The Richard Jackson Saga: Book 1: The Beginning Coming of Age 1950s
Author: Ed Nelson
Date: 2019-08-08T18:00:00+00:00
Description: The Richard Jackson SagaAn Alternative HistoryBook 1: The BeginningHandsome young Rick is on a cross-country trip, hitchhiking from a small Ohio town to California. Along the way, there is a bank robbery, bull riding in the rodeo, a western movie, and rustlers among other events. With humor, we follow a young man’s coming of age in the late 1950s. Starting in the summer before his freshman year it follows him through his high school life where he learns golf is his game and beyond. He finds fame and fortune as an inventor and wealth in Hollywood as he searches for a girlfriend. Wealth and fame
Publisher: Eastern Shore Publishing

The Richard Jackson Saga

Book 1: The Beginning

By Ed Nelson

Other books by Ed Nelson

The Richard Jackson Saga

Book 1 The Beginning

Bookv2 Schooldays

Book 3 Hollywood

Book 4 In the Movies

Book 5 Star to Deckhand

Book 6 Surfing Dude

Book 7 Third Time is a Charm

Book 8: Oxford University

Book 9: Cold War

Book 10: Taking Care of Business

Stand Alone Stories

Ever and Always

Other books by Ed Nelson

The Richard Jackson Saga

Book 1 The Beginning

Bookv2 Schooldays

Book 3 Hollywood

Book 4 In the Movies

Book 5 Star to Deckhand

Book 6 Surfing Dude

Book 7 Third Time is a Charm

Book 8: Oxford University

Book 9: Cold War

Book 10: Taking Care of Business

Stand Alone Stories

Ever and Always

Dedication

This is dedicated to my wife Carol for her support and help as my first reader and editor.

Also, the Bellefontaine High School Class of 1962 just because.

Quotation

“That’s the way it happened, give or take a lie or two.”

James Garner as Wyatt Earp describing the gunfight at the OK Corral in the movie Sunset.

Copyright © 2019

E. E. Nelson

All rights reserved

Eastern Shore Publishing

2331 Del Webb Blvd. West

Sun City Center FL, 33573

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-7331190-9-2

Contents

The Richard Jackson Saga

Dedication

Quotation

Copyright © 2019

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter  31

Chapter  32

Chapter  33

Chapter  34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter  42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter  48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter  51

Chapter  52

Chapter 53

Chapter 1

“Your homework for your first day of English class, due tomorrow is one on your summer vacation,” said Miss Bales.

This should be interesting I thought should I tell the truth or make up the usual crap, as we went to the beach on Lake Erie or to Columbus to the zoo.

I guess I should explain why I am even thinking of making something up. I have proof of what happened, but I don’t know if I want all the nonsense that will go with it when it comes out. It will become public anyway after that last bit in Philadelphia, so I might as well go for it.

It all started late May of last year. I had just finished 8th grade, and my dad Jack Jackson and I were discussing what I would do for the summer.  Dad was a child during the great depression and had been in the Civilian Conservation Corp, as a youth out in Idaho, killing coyotes. He was in the Army during World War II, where he met my English mother. I think I was the reason they got married but this wasn’t discussed, but I could do arithmetic.

My name is Richard Edward Jackson, known as Rick or Ricky; I am large for my age at five-foot-ten inches and one hundred seventy pounds. From my Father, Cousins, and Uncles' sizes, I still had a lot of growth left. I am fourteen years old, turning fifteen in October. I am known as Ricky to friends and family.

Anyway, Dad said, “By the time I was your age, I had been all around the country. Hell, when I was twelve. I ran away with the carnival, but your grandmother had the Sheriff chase me down. Later, she swore she should have just let me go.”

“You wouldn’t mind if I traveled around a bit?”

“Not at all, but your Mother might care.”

“If I mention it to her would you say it is okay?”

“That would be better than running your paper route and sitting around reading all the time.”

Now, Dad was happy that I worked and had been doing so since the fifth grade. He didn’t mind that I read all the time, which was easy because the library was a stop on my paper route. What he minded was me sitting on the porch swing for hours at a time reading and getting a little pudgy.

Taking my life in my hands; I broached the subject at dinner that night. My two younger brothers and sister had not acted up, and Dad hadn’t gone on a toot (what he called a drinking spree) for a while so there wasn’t any tension at the table. Additionally, money must have been okay, because Dad had moved up from the extra board as a switchman on the railroad to become a conductor.

This wasn’t like a conductor on a passenger train. His job as a supervisor was making up a freight train by having the cars put in the correct order. The switchmen and brakemen had to take their direction from him. This irked two of my Uncles, who did those jobs.

I asked, “Mum would you care if I saw a little of the country on this vacation?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I only go up to Indian Lake, about ten miles, with you and Dad. Would you care if I rode my bike or even hitchhiked up there?”

In those days, hitchhiking was quite common and not considered a bad thing.

“I might even get to Cincinnati to see a ball game!”

”That sounds ambitious; I doubt that you would have the nerve for that, it is one hundred miles there.”

“I won’t know if I don’t try.”

Mum looked at Dad and asked, “What do you think?”

“Well I sort of put it in his mind, so I am okay with it.”

Mum then gave me a look and said, “You can do it. Now tell me what you really have in mind?”

I should have known I wouldn’t get anything past her.

“I would like to hitchhike out west and see as much country as I can during the summer.”

“I thought it was something like that. Actually, I don’t see anything wrong with it. You have the size, seem to have common sense. I certainly did more adventuresome things when I was your age.”

“Like what?" I asked.

“Well you know we lived in Grays, a small town on the Thames River between Dover and London. We used to make rafts to cross the river. You don’t know fear until an Ocean Liner is blowing its horn for you to get out of the way when you are on a homemade raft. So I do understand. Just be careful of who you take rides with.”

And so my summer vacation started. I saved forty dollars from my paper route which I no longer had. This was almost a grown man’s week’s wages in those days.

I had a thin sleeping bag, ground cloth, shaving kit and an old army rucksack to carry several changes of clothes. Plus the Barlow pocketknife which was required of all boys my age, and a comb.

What I did have that was unusual was my American passport. Since Dad was a GI and Mum British, I had dual citizenship. My parents thought we could afford a trip to England several years ago, which didn’t work out, but I did end up with an American Passport. It was very handy for impressing the girls.

It was the only ID that I had on me, other than my library card.  Mum gave me five dollars to be used in an emergency and told me I had to send a postcard every few days, so they knew about where I was at.

I had already learned in life, what parents approved one day might change the next. So I was up early May 31. The school calendar was easy to follow those years. School ended the day before Memorial Day and took up again the day after Labor Day.  The dinner conversation was on Thursday night May 30, and school was over for the year. I passed eighth grade going on to the ninth.

I was up at daybreak and packed, Mum had breakfast waiting. It was my favorite bowl of cereal, Quaker Oats puffed rice.  While I ate she made me two baloney sandwiches for lunch. Dad had left an Army surplus canteen for me. He was at work, but both figured I wouldn’t waste time once I had permission.

After a hug from Mum, I walked the five blocks to Main Street, which was also US 68 in Bellefontaine, Ohio.  From there I started walking south. It didn’t take long before Ernie Nevers slowed down. He was an older paperboy who could drive. He offered me a lift. He thought I was heading out to the fairgrounds south of town.

When I told him, I was heading towards Springfield, he really questioned me. I explained my summer mission, seeing the West.

He scoffed, “You will be home tomorrow, but since I’m heading to Urbana, I will take you that far.”

We spent the half-hour drive talking about going west. The truth was neither of us knew much. If I went to Springfield and followed US 40 to the Ocean, then turned left, I would get to LA. In those days the Interstate system was just being built, and US 40 still went all the way to San Francisco.

Anyway, Ernie dropped me off in the center of Urbana at the roundabout, and I started walking south. It took me about half an hour to get to the edge of town and stick my thumb out. Of course, the first person to stop was a county sheriff’s deputy.

He was polite and wanted to know who I was. Where I was going and the usual things, a cop might ask, like had I run away from home. I in return politely gave my story.

He laughed and said, “Few people do that anymore. I tried it just before the war. I got clear to Indianapolis before I got homesick. Good luck and have fun.”

Things were different in those days.

At about that time an old farm truck slowed down, and the Deputy flagged him over.

“Hey, Bill we got a young man on his way west. He needs to get to Springfield to pick up 40.”

“Well hop in, youngster! I remember those days; I used to ride the rail when I was your age. We would jump a boxcar to Dayton; then go south to Cincinnati to watch a ball game at Crosley Field. We were thirteen and would drink Hudephol Beer. The kid who sold it to us probably was ten. It was a dime a bottle.”

The old farmer regaled me with the fun stuff he did as a kid halfway to Springfield. He let me out at his turnoff and wished me luck.

My next ride took forty minutes and was an insurance man going to his office in Springfield. He wanted to know where I was from and did my parents need insurance. I couldn’t really answer him so it was a quiet ride. He let me off downtown Springfield on the main drag which was route 40.

Chapter 2

Since it was Memorial Day, a parade was lined up on 40 getting ready to head west. The floats were lined up along the street. One float, the Future Farmers of America had boys and girls my age.

One of the girls a cute brunet said, “Hi,” as her float was slowly going by.

Of course, being nobody’s fool I said, “Hi” back.

She got a funny look and said, “Oh I am sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

This gave me the opening to ask, “Who did you mistake me for?”

I continued to walk along beside the float.

After that, a more general conversation ensued with me telling her and the other kids on the float of my big trip. This resulted in getting an invitation to ride the float out to the edge of town. All the kids thought it was neat that my parents would let me do that. We weren’t cool in those days, just neat.

I felt like I was King of the World on that ride. Then reality caught up with me as we reached the cemetery at the edge of town for the Memorial Day ceremonies. I went my way, and they went theirs.

I stood by the road with my thumb out for half an hour according to my glow in the dark Timex watch. This became boring so I started walking, putting my thumb out whenever a car comes by.

It took me the rest of the day to reach Dayton. As it was getting dark, I left the road and camped in a small wooded area. My food was long gone. I was tired hungry, lonely, and a little scared of being out alone. I was jumping at every little sound.

I managed to get through the night and if there were any tears, you will never know. Daylight comes like it usually does, so I did my morning duty and headed out. Being fourteen I didn’t think what my hair would look like, so for some reason, no one wanted to pick me up.

Later at a small gas station after looking in the mirror, I wouldn’t have picked me up either. After cleaning up as best as I could, I bought a couple of candy bars and a Coke to hold me until I got to real food. The station also sold outdoor goods, and I found a small metal mirror. This way, I could use my comb and avoid looking like some deranged killer.

Not too far down the road was a small diner.  I paid seventy-five cents for a couple of eggs, bacon, and hash browns along with my first cup of coffee ever. Everything but the coffee was good. I had to kill the taste with so much sugar and cream that the waitress was laughing at me.

I made fifty miles that day. At this rate, it would take me two months to get to California. I kept trudging along.   I did learn that the Burma Shave signs were further apart than I had thought; furthermore, the Mail Pouch Tobacco advertisements painted on the side of barns weren’t really put on that well. The fancy work from a distance was pretty sloppy hand painting when viewed up close.

I realized I was far from home when I had to reset my watch when I was west of Indianapolis. I dialed my watch one hour from Eastern Daylight Savings Time to Eastern Standard Time.

A week later, I was leaving Indiana for Illinois when I saw a farm truck with a flat tire. The driver was an elderly lady (at least forty). She was just sitting in her truck.

I asked if she needed help, and she told me that she couldn’t handle the spare. I changed the tire for her, and she gave me a lift down the road as far as her farm. She then invited me in for lunch she asked about what I was doing. Her husband came out of the field to eat with us.

He laughed at my story and said, “I bet you would like nothing better than a bath right now.”

I told him he was correct.

“I thought that would be the case, I was all over Europe with Patton, and a bath was the goal of every soldier. Home and girls were the dreams, but a good soak was the goal.”

While I cleaned up, Mrs. Whaley washed my clothes. They had some old things I could wear while mine was on the clothesline. By then it was getting late, and they invited me for dinner and the night. I wasn’t shy. It was so good to be under a roof.

During dinner, Mr. Whaley asked if I would mind staying for a couple of days to help with some chores. He had some fencing to replace, and it was a two-man job. He would pay me five dollars for the two days plus meals and a bed. I immediately took him up on it.

The next day I was asked if I had let my parents know how I was doing. Of course, I was in the middle of my second week and had not done so. Mrs. Whaley gave me a postcard and one of the new four-cent stamps. Postage had actually gone up since my trip had started.

On June first, it went from three cents to four cents. The way prices were raising we would all starve, at least according to Mrs. Whaley. I wrote several lines saying I had just got into Illinois, and that I was fine. I put it in the mailbox and raised the flag for the mailman.

After two days of fencing, I was ready to move on. Mr. Whaley paid me my five dollars and we shook hands and I was off again. Mrs. Whaley had packed me a little something for the road. If I was careful it might last for three days.

By this time I was getting my road legs. I choose to walk with my thumb out rather than stand and wait. Walking became easier and that pudginess was going away. This got me feeling all virtuous, so I decided to do pushups and sit-ups every morning. In the back of my mind, I probably thought it would last several days as I had tried this before, but it actually took and it became part of my morning ritual every day.

I hate St. Louis. It took me an entire day to walk across town. It was sidewalk all the way so my feet were killing me by the time I hit the western city limits. By this time several problems were becoming apparent. I was halfway through my money and my shoes were wearing out.

I had put cardboard in the bottom of the shoe but the hole in the sole was getting too large. I stopped at a farm store and bought a stout pair of Mason work shoes. They should last. They did but were really hard to break in. By the time I had hitched and walked to the Kansas border I had blisters.

I was ready to stop for a while so I bought a loaf of bread, baloney, mustard, and band-aids at a local IGA. I then found a secluded dell and took two days off. On the third morning I woke up feeling like a new person, so I hit the road again after performing my new morning ritual.

After many different rides, I was dropped off just over the Kansas state line in Colorado by a Mr. Serling.

He had to say, “Toto we aren’t in Kansas anymore.”

I laughed and wished him well in his writing. His delivery of that line was sort of spooky.

I got lucky and caught a ride with a long-distance hauler who took me to Craig, Colorado. In those days Craig was a small town that was little more than a crossroads.

When Chet the truck driver let me off he joked that I should be careful, not get lost in town. With a grin and a wave, he took off like all the other people in my life recently.

Chapter 3

My first goal was to exchange my last and only money in the form of a twenty-dollar bill to smaller bills and change.

The First Bank of Colorado was right there so I went in. I was fifth in line, and the tellers were really friendly. As a matter of fact, they were so neighborly that I had only moved up two spaces in fifteen minutes.  No one else had come in, so I was last in line, and when the door behind me opened, I turned to look.

It was two men, and they had guns out!

“Stick’em up' this is a robbery," one yelled.

He pushed his way to the front of the line and handed the Teller a pillowcase and said, “Fill it up!”

The other came up beside me and said, “We are taking it all, give me your money.”

I probably did the wrong thing. He thrust his handgun close to me. Without thinking I grabbed his hand and turned the barrel away from me. His finger was within the trigger guard. I almost ripped his finger off as I turned the gun.

He let go of the gun, and I had it. I never thought. It was all happening so fast. I pointed it at his chest and pulled the trigger. A loud Bang and he went down.

The other guy was turning towards me, but I was facing him so the gun I held was already aimed in his direction, so I pointed at his chest and pulled the trigger. Another Bang and the robbery attempt was over. I had just killed two men in about three seconds. It all happened so fast the other people in line had not time to move.

I stood there feeling numb. About that time, heck broke loose as the Burglar Alarm was set off by a teller. The bank guard came out of the back room where he had been using the bathroom and immediately got the drop on me.

This was easy since I was standing there with the gun hanging down trying to process what had just happened. The tellers got him straightened out as the Police came charging in and had the drop on me again.

Again, the tellers got it all straightened out. I surrendered the handgun to the police, which I learned later was an M1911A 45 caliber semi-automatic. The cops found the robbers get-away car with the engine running around the corner.

They closed the bank and set me in a conference room. A male teller brought me a glass of water and closed the door behind him. I promptly got the shakes.

I was pretty well settled down when the FBI showed up two hours later. The agents were very nice to me, and I appreciated that they didn’t pull their guns on me as everyone else had. It was more like a conversation than the grilling I expected.

After getting my version of events they told me that it agreed with what all the others had told them. They then proceeded to tell me that the two guys, brothers by the name of John and Ernest Johnson were wanted for bank robbery and murder in three states.

They had robbed nine banks and killed six people, wounding four others. These were bad people. I was eligible for the reward because it was, dead or alive, and there was no doubt about the dead part.

The rewards totaled twenty-five thousand dollars! The agents had the paperwork and helped me fill it out, and attested to the facts. The bank was kind enough to let me use their phone to call home.

Boy was mum surprised and relieved to hear from me. I assured her all was okay, so then she started to get mad because I had only sent one postcard.

So I dropped the bank robbery on her, and she got all shook up and even madder when she learned that I had almost got killed. Then I told her of the reward. She got very quiet. I ask for Dad's checking account numbers so the money could be deposited there.

“Mum, when you get the money, pay off all our debts, buy a new house and a new car.”

“It is your money!”

“I know but what do I need all that for, let’s do some good for our family. And I only mean our family, don’t let Uncle Wally get his hands on it and drink it away. Maybe you can let Dad go on one big toot, but that is all.”

“Jack doesn’t need to go on a toot; he will be too busy house hunting and buying new furniture.”

“Your call Mum, I just want to help the family.”

“It is appreciated; now don’t wait so long until you let us know how you are doing.”

“I won’t Mum, talk to you later.

When I got off the phone, the Bank President wanted to talk to me. “Ricky, our Board of Directors has authorized five hundred dollars on top of the reward you have earned. Do you want it sent with the other money?”

I thought for a moment, and then replied, “Could I have it in cash?”

“Do you think that will be safe,” he started; then coughed.

“I remember what happened to the last person who tried to take your money. Of course, you can have the cash. I will be right back.”

After he got back with my money he said, “The FBI has asked that you stay in town for several days in case something else comes up.”

“I guess I have no choice, is there anywhere I can stay?”

“I checked and there aren’t any hotel rooms available. I did make a phone call and a member of the local school board, Clint Easterly is willing to put you up. He’s here in town and will be stopping by in a few minutes.”

Chapter 4

It was a very short few minutes because just then Mr. Easterly walked into the room.

“I hear there is a young man who needs a place to stay.”

Bank President Mr. Weber introduced me. I told him I would be very pleased to have a room as I was getting tired of sleeping out. I was willing to pay for it, but he would have none of that. In short order, he had me in his pickup and headed out to his ranch.

I met his wife Sally, who treated me like a long-lost son. I had a bath before dinner and put on my only clean clothes. At dinner, I mentioned that I had to find a laundry mat in town. She laughed and asked if I had looked in a mirror recently.

Of course, I hadn’t. Well, it appeared that I was now six feet and one-half inch tall. My pants and shirt sleeves were both too short. I needed all new clothes! Fortunately, I now had the money.

The next day Mr. and Mrs. Easterly took me into town; our first stop was at the local newspaper. They wanted my description of what happened during the bank robbery.

The reporter, a Mr. James Olsen, asked me so many questions, like where I was from and about my family that I felt more intimidated by him than the FBI.

When he first introduced himself, he chuckled as he made a point of telling me he wasn’t a photographer.

I laughed and said, “You must be asked about Superman a lot.”

“You have no idea, but I have learned to live with it.”

The laugh we shared got us off to a good start, but I still felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of his questions.

Mr. Easterly let me fend for myself during the interview, but later told me I did okay. Not much praise but I had the impression that an “Okay” from him was actually a lot. He also promised to mail a copy of the article to my parents.

The next stop was at a newly opened Sheplers. They specialized in western gear, so I ended up with cowboy boots, several pairs of jeans along with cowboy style shirts, a belt with a large brass buckle, and a straw cowboy hat.

Other than the fact, I had only ridden on a fairground pony when I was really young I was a rough-riding cowboy. I mentioned that to Clint, and he told me he had the cure for that.

I thought he was going to put me on horseback.

Well, he did that, but what he meant was that he raised and provided Brahma bulls for the rodeo. He gave me the basics and loaded me on the back of one. I think he thought I would go flying. I was as surprised as he was when I stayed on.

It seems I had the natural reflexes and balance required. He gave me some pointers on waving my hat and showing off on the ride by waving my arms and hat during the eight-second ride, which I did without any problem. After riding two more bulls that morning, he said he had never seen such a natural as I had turned out to be.

He had me up on a horse and also taught me how to saddle and care for one. It all came easy and was fun, except for the half dozen times I was thrown off by both bulls and horses. After three days of this, word came from the FBI that I wasn’t needed anymore and could move on.

Clint asked if I wanted to join him as a helper on the rodeo circuit and several other projects as a wrangler (fancy word for helper and dung shoveler.) Those bulls needed a lot of wrangling!

Since he was headed towards California, it made sense. He was giving me a ride and paying me. The pay was for the spit, but since he helped me, I would have done it for free. Our first stop was outside of Denver to provide riding bulls for a rodeo. The rodeo was a lot bigger than I thought it would be.

It was more like the Ohio State fair than our local Logan County fair. He had talked me into joining the American National Bull Riding Association Junior Division, so I could enter the events.

I thought it would be neat to tell my friends in school about entering. When I won the Junior Division at the rodeo, it was more than neat.

The prize was one hundred dollars, and they gave me the neatest big silver buckle for my belt, a trophy, and a blue ribbon with the rodeo name and date on it.

We boxed the trophy and ribbons up and shipped them to my parents. They would be surprised! We then headed up to a rodeo in Cheyenne Wyoming. Wouldn’t you know I won first place and another one hundred dollars?

I packed the trophy, and mailed it, then headed down to Fort Collins Colorado for the third rodeo. It was almost anti-climactic when I won that one, but their first prize was two hundred dollars.

I now had more money than I ever had dreamed of. I started talking about becoming a professional rodeo rider. Clint told me not to get too big for my britches.

I had enough points in the Junior Circuit to enter the Grand National Junior in Dallas at the end of August. Again, he helped me with the forms but let me know that I would now be going against the real riders and that I would have to step up my game.

Heck, I was happy to hang on, how could I step that up?

We went out to a dude ranch in Nevada near Reno. They were filming a show which was part of the Mickey Mouse Club. It was the Adventures of Spin and Marty. There was to be a segment about rodeo. We were providing the bulls.

When the child actor who was supposed to be the bull rider refused to get on one they were lost until Clint pointed out that I rode and even won some rodeo contests. They had me join the Screen Actors Guild and made me an extra.

It turned out a little more than that because the writers heard Annette say I was cute. That gave them the idea to have me in several episodes.

In the first episode, I won the rodeo, and Annette swooned over me, much to Spin and Marty’s dismay. The next one I made headway with her, and they were getting more frustrated.

In the third one, the writers had me overstepping my bounds and trying to kiss Annette (Gasp!). They catch me in the act and toss me in a horse-trough. That was the end of my Disney career.

I didn’t get a chance to know any of the actors. They had their own trailers. As soon as a scene was finished, they would disappear with their chaperons, and that ended one boyhood fantasy.  The scenes were shot out of sequence so, my work was done in two days. They had me in a black hat which I thought was neat, but they wouldn’t let me keep it.

Chapter 5

From Reno, we headed down to Yuma Arizona. Clint was providing the bulls for a movie down there starring John Wayne, Elvis Presley, and Tab Hunter with a working title of, “It Never Happened.”  My job was to clean up after the bulls, feed, and water them.

I was doing that the second morning when John Wayne came out all hot and bothered.

“Where the hell is everybody, we got a scene to shoot,” he bellowed as only John Wayne could.

He saw me and told me, “Get your butt over to costuming now. You are not being paid to stand around.”

Well actually, I was being paid to stand around with the bulls but when you’re fourteen and John Wayne yells at you; you move!

It was just around the corner of the set and since my dress met the requirements, they strapped a prop gunfighters rig on me, mounted me on a horse, and gave me my direction. Now if I could really ride it would have ended up differently.

My job was to be in the back of the pack of bad guys and when I hit a mark in the sand, I was supposed to slide off my horse away from the camera. Well, it worked until I tried to slide off the horse. My boot caught in the stirrup and the horse started to drag me.

My weight was enough the horse tried to turn away from me. In doing so he dragged me right in front of the camera. He went about a hundred feet down the road and figured out I was too much to drag and stopped. Then I worked myself free.

When I stood up, there was Wayne and the Director followed by the rest of the cast and crew. Wayne wanted to know if I was okay, the Director wanted to know if I could do a retake if they didn’t get the shot.

I guess my mouth hung open because they all started laughing at me.  Elvis accused me of being a scene-stealer. He was laughing, so it was okay.

Clint showed up about then and it came out that I wasn’t even an extra, but a bull wrangler. When I confessed that Wayne’s yelling got me in the scene they all thought it was a hoot.

Since I had a Screen Actors Guild card for being on the Mickey Mouse set they decided to use the shot as it was too dramatic to pass up. This was during the time when they had to do the stunts instead of using computer-aided backgrounds.

The next few days I bummed around with Elvis, and we both were taught Western gun handling with real Colt 45’s, and how to quick draw. We even got to go out in the desert and plink at tin cans. Elvis was a little upset that I could hit them repeatedly and make them ‘walk', and he couldn’t. We got along anyway.

The shooting ended for the week. Elvis and Tab Hunter asked me to go to Tijuana with them. Since Clint was heading home, I told them yes. Clint reminded me that I was entered in the National Junior Bull Riding Championship and not to forget to go to Dallas. I promised him I would go. We parted company on a good note.

We arrived in Tijuana early on a Saturday night. We walked around eating food from the street vendors. I stayed with corn on the cob as the most likely not to give me stomach problems. It worked, but then neither of the others had problems, at least of that sort.

What I really remember of Tijuana was the buses, the stop signs, and the shoeshine boy. I had never seen so many people on a bus.

When I say on the bus, they were old school buses, which ran up and down the main road. Those who couldn’t afford or too cheap to pay would hang from the frames of the open windows on the outside of the bus. Some would climb and sit on the roof. It lent a new meaning to being full.

The Stop signs were something else, of course, they said, “Alto'” Spanish for “Stop," what was different was the bottom of the signs. They said, “Drink Seven Up," apparently the Seven-Up bottler sponsored the Stop signs!

We were followed by street urchins our whole trip. One finally through persistence got to shine my boots. They gleamed when he was done. I gave him a US Dollar, a gross overpayment. I really regretted it two days later when all the stitches on my boots had dissolved.

I had to walk over a mile to buy a new pair while the soles flapped with every step.  I have no idea what was in his polish, but it was potent. However, that would be several days in the future; we were in Tijuana tonight to have fun.

I found Elvis’s and Tab’s idea of fun was to go to a cantina and drink too much,  flirt with the pretty girls (at least they were pretty to them after drinking, I didn’t care to drink, and I didn’t think the girls were that pretty), then get in a fight with their boyfriends. It was one heck of a brawl. It was the three of us against about eight of them.

We were holding our own until we heard the police whistles. Everyone headed for the backdoor. I was the only one of our three that made it out. The others got jammed up in the doorway and hauled away by the police.

When I got out of the backdoor, I followed the guys I had been fighting. They jumped up on the roof of a low standing shed. We all hunkered down. It is a wonder the cops did not hear the giggling above them. Anyway, the cops moved on.

The boy next to me said, “That was a good fight gringo.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “It was fun.”

“It is a shame we can’t bail our friends out. They will have to spend the night in jail.”

“If you show me where the police station is, I will bail everyone out.”

I was led to the police station. Everyone was stuffed into the drunk tank. For Elvis, Tab, and three Mexican boys, it cost me fifty dollars. The Police took group pictures of Elvis, Tab, and me with them in various poses.

They recognized Elvis when they saw his ID. Tab was a little put out that he had to tell them who he was.

I was nobody, but they included me in the pictures anyway. When it was done everyone shook hands and declared it a wonderful night. I loaded my friends in an International cab and headed back to the US.

Fortunately, we had all managed to hang onto our ID, so we made it across the border okay.

We checked into a suite at the Coronado Del Rey a fancy hotel in San Diego. The next day was a bad one for Tab and Elvis. I worked on my tan. They both swore eternal friendship to me for bailing them out of trouble.

Well, they did avoid a night in jail but the cops sold the pictures to Variety magazine, the trade journal for the movie industry.  Wayne mailed a copy to my home and signed it to me with a note saying, “Wish I was there.”

Chapter 6

This was all in the future. Early Monday Tab and Elvis headed to their next destinations, as for me I stuck my thumb out and headed North on Highway 101.

It turned out to be an easy trip, and I found myself out by Long Beach midafternoon. One of my rides told me that if I were looking for work he knew the oil rigs were always looking for roughnecks.

This was a high-paying dirty hard job that required a strong back and a fairly weak mind. I met those qualifications. All the walking and daily exercising I had been doing certainly had me in better shape.

I got a hotel room for the night as sleeping on the ground in Long Beach was out of the question. I could not resist the name, Hotel California. It showed I was really there. Years later when the song came out I wished I had sent some of their postcards.

However, the next day, after breakfast I did check out and leave the Hotel California. My first stop was to buy a new pair of boots, seems the stitches had all dissolved, from my Mexican shoe shine. After that, I found my way to the Union hiring haul.

My SAG card and ten dollars got me into the International Oil Rig and Drillers Union. I asked the guy who took my money if he thought I would have a hard time getting on. He just pointed to all the derelict drunks sleeping on benches in the hall.

It turned out one oil rig was hiring roughnecks at sixty dollars a week for a two-week stint. They had some extra stuff going on and thought they would need the help.

Well, I was hired. I had to buy a hard hat, safety glasses, and steel-toed work shoes. I was taken by water taxi to the rig which wasn’t that far from shore. I spent the next week dirty, tired, sore, and absolutely certain that I would never want to do this regularly.

They had so many men on board, that we had to hot bunk. One guy would get up. Another would take his place in the bed. Drilling for oil was around the clock; talk about a stinking mess of unwashed, farting men. The food was a horrid greasy mess, and showers were salt water. This was not what this Ohio boy was ready for.

I toughed it out but knew I would never come back. All my clothes, but one set were ruined in the first two days. I saved one set after I realized I would have to buy new ones when the job was done. They gave us coveralls, but they didn't help.

That all said the guys working the rig were a hard lot, but they didn’t seem to resent me in any way and would give me pointers on how to do things. I quickly became known as Kid. “Hey, Kid, do this”, “Hey Kid wake up," “Hey Kid get your head out of your butt.” This was all yelled, but never in a mean way.

I mentioned that to one of the supervisor types one day, he told me, “Kid these are really hard cases; they have learned to be polite to each other and the world in general. They have nothing to prove and if a fight broke out here, there would be dead men. You don’t want to see a dead man.”

I didn’t tell him at my young age I had already killed two men. As a matter of fact, no one on the rig had asked my age, and I didn’t volunteer.

Events took a sudden turn on the second week when I heard a big voice yell, “Hey pilgrim. What are you doing here?”

I turned and there was John Wayne. It seemed he was doing some location shots for a movie called ‘Hell Fighters,’ a take on Red Adair the oil rig firefighter. That was why the extra crew had been added on.

Since I already had a SAG card, I was hired to be an extra in the movie. I was being paid twice, once to do the job and the second time, so they could take pictures of me doing the job. When the finished movie came out you had to look quick to see my face.

My stock certainly went up with the other roughnecks when Wayne told a group at lunch one day how I had got in a fight down in Mexico and had to bail my buddies Elvis Presley and Tab Hunter out of jail. That is when I found out there were pictures in Variety magazine.

After my second week, the job and the movie deal were done, so I hitched a ride back to shore with John Wayne. He had his own boat which we took directly to his house on the water in Newport Beach. His wife made me clean up at once and throw all my old clothes away. I had no problem with either.

After dinner that night we went to the recently built Del Webb hotel and listened to a new group trying to get together that the Wayne’s knew, ‘The Beach Boys.’

During one of their breaks, John let Brian Wilson know that I was a bull rider and would be appearing in his next western. Brian asked, “Rick can you sing?”

“My singing scares the cattle, but not bad enough to start a stampede.”

“Seriously, we are hunting for a cowboy type to sing a song. It doesn’t meet the image we are establishing, but it is too fun not to do. We would be the backup band, and our studio would handle all the distribution.”

In a moment of weakness, I agreed to an audition the next day. The first thing I did was to replace my destroyed wardrobe. I learned all the fancy terms like wardrobe hanging around the movie sets.

The wardrobe on the oil rig was funny. Instead of the rigs grey coveralls, we wore red ones. That was the extent of the difference; I even used my own hard hat.

After buying several sets of jeans and western shirts, a pair of boots, and a new belt for my largest buckle, I splurged on a real black Stetson. It cost sixty dollars but looked sharp. I wanted one ever since the Disney show.

Everyone knew the bad guys wore black hats and that was the look I was going for. Hey, I was fourteen!

It was amazing that I had grown again. I was now six feet two inches and weighed one hundred and eighty pounds. I was tall and thin, and hard from the work and exercise I was doing. No longer, the trending towards the pudgy kid who left Bellefontaine!

My audition went well enough that we did the record. After several false starts due to me, we did a complete cut, and "Rock and Roll Cowboy,” was born.

The band carried me because my voice wasn’t that strong or even pleasant sounding. Brian gave me his business card and a copy of my contract.

He asked me to call him in a couple of weeks to see how things were progressing. I promised I would. That also reminded me to send a postcard home. I was doing better at mailing postcards, meeting the weekly goal.

They only said I was doing fine, etc., but they did let them know I was alive and where to start the search if I went missing.

From there I hitched up to San Francisco and finally got to see the end of US 40. While exploring the area I ended up on the Berkeley campus. While looking at the buildings I merged with a group heading into a hall.

I wasn’t thinking, just going with the flow. The next thing I knew I was being welcomed to freshman orientation. I was too embarrassed to get up and leave so I listened to the talk. I am glad I did. I heard something that got my education headed in the right direction.

Paraphrasing the speaker, “If you want to do well here, then read the book and work all the problems at the end of the chapter BEFORE you come to class. This way, you will understand what is being said, you will know what you don’t know so you can ask the right questions.

If you are really lucky, any homework will be problems that you have already done so you will be that far ahead, if not at least you will have a firm understanding of the material. Treat going to school like a job. Plan to spend the time to do it right.”

For some reason, it rang true to me. I had straight A’s up to the eighth grade, but I never had to study to get them. My eighth-grade year grades dropped to B’s and C’s. Maybe I would have to do some work!

Chapter 7

I went out to the old goldfields from sheer curiosity and of course the fantasy that I would find my fortune. My first stop was a working gold mine where they let tourist pan for gold.

They did give an interesting lecture and movie on gold mining, but it didn’t take me long to figure out that they were mining the tourist for their gold. I had rented a pan and was taught how to use it. After an hour of swirling sand, I had one small flake or what the miners called a “color”.

I took it up to the young attendant who said it looked like a nickel's worth. He took my pan with its single speck in the remaining water and held a strange-looking gun at it. The gun had a two-inch barrel.

When he flipped a switch on it, it blew extremely hot air on the water drying it up very quickly.

I asked about it, he replied, “It is an industrial heater. It has a heating element inside and a small fan so it blows hot air. This is much better than having an open flame around the tourists.”

He offered to sell me a glass vial for a dime to keep my gold in, but I declined and let him keep the flake.

I decided I would rather spend my time hiking in a nearby National Forest. It was really neat and I enjoyed my outing immensely, those big old trees made it feel like being in church, though my family wasn’t really churchgoers.

One of the things we had been shown in the gold mining movie was to look for quartz, it was associated with gold. If we found a big enough outcrop it might even have a pocket of gold in it. It would be in nugget form still, as erosion hadn’t broken the gold down into fines.

At the head of the hiking trail, there was a sign that said, “Do Not Feed the Bears.” I didn’t have any food with me, so that wouldn’t be a problem. I did have the nasty thought that a bear might consider me to be food!

That put a different much stronger connotation on not feeding the bears. There was a sheet pinned on the sign that gave information about the local black bears. Strange enough the black bears were almost any color but black, mostly a shade of brown.

The important information to me was that bears have the right of way. In other words, if you see one, get out of their way. Don’t turn and run, just slowly back up until you are out of sight. Then turn and run.

It sounded like a good plan to me. The chances of me running into a bear were slim and none, but now I knew what to do.

The hike was very pleasant. The giant trees gave a hush to the area that felt peaceful.

The peaceful feeling continued until I heard a grunting sound. Two half-grown black bear cubs walked out onto the trail right in front of me. The brochure was right, they were more brown than black.

I don’t know who was more surprised me or them!

I stopped dead and slowly started to back up. They just watched me. I was feeling like I might get away when a loud roar came from the trail. Momma had shown up.

I kept backing up, but Momma started towards me. Now the instruction said too calmly back up until you were out of sight before turning and running. Of course, I immediately turned and took off.

I could hear growls and yowls behind me. At this point, I wasn’t about to turn and look. I wasn’t a fast runner, but I set a personal best that day.

I was still on the trail with bears on my heels when I came to a turn in the trail. I had just traversed this part, so I knew what to expect. The turn was at the top of a rise, not a big one. If I followed the trail it would go down to a creek.

Instead, I went straight, half running and half plunging down the hill to the creek. Gravity is a wonderful thing. I really picked up speed. At the bottom, the creek wasn’t wide or deep, so I high stepped it across, splashing as I went.

I risked a look back when I got to the other side. Momma and the kids were still at the top of the trail. The bears had stopped and been sniffing around. It appeared that I had got far enough away they couldn’t see me anymore. The question was did they care enough to track me. As I continued downstream the answer was no, as they turned and started back up the trail.

Now my only problem was that I had left the trail and had to get back to it. I knew it wouldn’t be that far down the creek, but my goal was to find it and get out of there.

As I made my way downstream I saw the small footbridge ahead which marked the trail.

Before I got that far there was a flash in the corner of my eye. The sun had reflected from something. It was an outcrop of quartz that appeared to be newly uncovered by a small mudslide. It had rained heavily in the last few days. So being no dummy I used a large rock from the creek bed to break up the quartz.

They were correct; there was a pocket of gold nuggets. Later at home, it weighed out at a little over one hundred and twenty pounds. I now had the problem of being two miles deep in a National Forest and I had taken a bus to get to the area. How to get the gold home?

The first thing I did was carry the gold nuggets to the nearby stream and collapse part of the bank to bury them. I then hiked back to the tourist gold mine and caught the next bus back to town.

From there I rented a hotel room for several days. In those days they were a lot easier about renting rooms. The fact I had a passport for identification and paid cash up front was all it took.

The next morning I bought a heavy-duty three-wheel bicycle with a basket in the back. I also picked up a shovel, some feed sacks, and shipping cartons. I took the cartons to the hotel.

I pedaled the six miles back to the Forest from the hotel and dug the gold out of the steam then loaded it into the feed sacks. Then it was back to the hotel to package the gold in the shipping cartons.

I next took the cartons down to the railroad station and paid extra to have a wooden crate built to contain the boxes of gold.

Then I shipped the crate via Railway Express back to my parents in Bellefontaine with a note, to not open till I was home. At the gold mine, they explained that gold was legally priced at thirty-five dollars an ounce, but they were talking about taking the price controls off. If they did that gold might go up to four hundred dollars an ounce.

Actually, I sold the gold in 1979 for eight hundred dollars an ounce; or one million four hundred thousand dollars.

Chapter 8

It was now time for me to head to Dallas for the Rodeo Championships. I hitched most of the way there. I had finally learned to stick my thumb out near restaurants where long distant trucks were stopped.

There were even some places out West that had combination restaurants and gas pumps. They called these Truck Stops. I could get longer rides much quicker.

I had got into the middle of nowhere Texas and my ride luck had worn out. I was on a deserted road with nothing in sight and it was getting dark. Rather than fight it, I walked over a small rise beside the road and unrolled my sleeping bag. I dropped right off but was awakened about three in the morning by the sound of cattle.

I peeked over the hill and saw two cattle trucks and a pickup towing a horse trailer. One of the trucks had already been loaded. I crept close enough to hear them talking about this was the easiest heist and most profitable job yet. These were cattle rustlers! There were five of them.

Three of them were riding out and collecting the cattle and two were staying with the trucks. I checked the loads on the two Colt forty-fives Mr. Wayne had given me for target practice.

On the movie set, we used special pistols that would only fire blanks. Apparently, people had been killed on sets where they used live weapons.

When the three galoots left to rustle some more cattle, I snuck up on the two stay behinds. They were just talking and didn’t have any weapons in sight so I just stepped out with weapons cocked and told them to reach for the sky.

I knew the lingo; I had been watching westerns for years. They were very surprised and did put their hands up.

Now I was like the dog that chased the car and caught it, now what was I going to do with them. I had them drop their jeans down to their ankles. They both wore boots and were now effectively hobbled like a horse.

I then checked around the truck and trailers and found a rope. I had them lay on their stomachs near where I had been sleeping and tied their hands behind their backs. They looked like they were related and were different ages so I asked the younger one if that was his Dad. He said, “Yes”.

I let that go for then. I checked the cabs of the three trucks out and did find several empty lunch sacks from the Fort Worth Cattle Auction House. I wandered back over to the kid (early twenties) who I had kept apart from his Dad. I asked the kid his name.

“Eric,”

“What’s your Dad's name?”

“John, John Bear.”

“After you drop off the cattle at the Fort Worth Auction House where were you heading?”

“Home I guess, Mom doesn’t like us to be gone too long.”

“Okay, just be quiet and this will be over soon.”

Over soon I thought, and your Mom is going to be really mad when you and Dad don’t get home for another five to ten years.

I waited patiently for the other three to come back and start loading the next truck. They yelled for the other two and when they didn’t appear went over to the smaller truck with the horse trailer.

They dismounted to talk and I braced them in the same manner. Jeans to ankles, down on their stomachs and hands tied behind their backs. I also ran a rope between their legs and up and over their jeans. This really locked them together.

I had found a full five-gallon gas can and several bales of hay in the trucks. I had a nice fire going in the center of the road and in about fifteen minutes two Texas Ranger pulled up.

It didn’t take long for them to figure out I was the good guy and had captured five rustlers in the act.

One Ranger stated that I had done it as if John Wayne had taught me. I let it go.

I showed them the lunch sacks and shared what the youngest rustler had told me. They talked to him separately like I had and he reconfirmed that they were meeting someone he didn’t know. He would recognize him but didn’t know his name.

The Rangers told me that this gang had hit the area pretty hard and that was why they were on patrol in the area. When they questioned the other guys they wouldn’t say anything.

The Rangers weren’t surprised as this had happened before. The low-level people when caught kept quiet and had all sorts of high-level legal talent on their side. They would get very short or suspended sentences.

I asked, “Why don’t we deliver the cattle? The boy seems dumb enough to help us.”

They went and struck a deal right there. If he and his Dad would take us to the leader in Fort Worth we might lose them in heat of the moment. If two low-level rustlers got away no one would spend a lot of time and effort chasing them. They agreed to the deal.

We loaded everything including the other crooks up and headed to Fort Worth. Our numbers added up. There were five just like the gang. When we pulled into the Fort Worth Cattle Auction House there was a guy waiting for the trucks to pull in. He had a briefcase with him.

Later I learned; the Dad who was in another truck with one of the Rangers pointed out the guy and said that’s him. I was with the son in the truck with the horse trailer. The Rangers had deputized me so I could legally hold a gun on the young guy if needed. I kept it handy but he made no moves.

Dad got out of the truck and the guy with the briefcase came right up to him and handed him the case. The Rangers were right behind the guy and collared him. They had him in cuffs immediately.

The guy blustered and asked if they knew who he was.

“Yes, you are the guy with a briefcase full of money in the process of buying two loads of stolen cattle.”

“I’ll have you know that I am the biggest donor to the Governor.”

That probably was the wrong thing to say because that Governor had been trying for years to cut the Rangers budget and powers. Texas did get a new administration in the next election.

I noticed that dad and son had disappeared. I hope they got home before mom got mad.

The Rangers explained to me that this was a big deal and it would make the national news. I told the head Ranger, Mr. Walker they could have all the credit and leave me out of it.

He told me that wasn’t possible, he would like the credit but they couldn’t lie about this, it would bite them in the butt if they did. The Rangers would look good from this, but so would I.

The reward for the information leading to the capture and conviction of the largest cattle rustling operation in the twentieth century was eighty-five thousand dollars. I wouldn’t get that till after the trial and conviction and that wouldn’t be until sometime next year.

In the meantime, they gave me a real Texas Ranger badge and swore me in as a permanent Deputy.

I was told this was really an honorary position and I wasn’t to wear my guns and arrest people. There was even an ID card and a leather case to hold it and the badge. I bet when I was old enough to drive this would get me out of speeding tickets!

Chapter 9

The Rangers delivered me to the Rodeo headquarters and got me checked in. This started some questions about a young rider being escorted by the Rangers. They just told the people at the check-in desk that as an unaccompanied minor they were making certain I got to where I needed to be.

After checking me into the rodeo the Rangers took me to an address Clint Easterly had provided. When helping me register for the championship he had contacted some Dallas people he knew so I would have a place to stay with a local family, the Ewing’s.

They had a ranch and a lot of oil wells but were really nice to me, and became my supporters at the event.

They did seem uptight about the Rangers showing up with me but soon relaxed when they were told what had happened. The older brother was quite pleased to hear the sitting governor would be having some questions to answer. Seems the Ewing’s were a power in Texas.

My skills as a rider held up but that wouldn’t have been enough to win the Championship. I got lucky; the last bull dislodged me and tossed me to the right, and while I hung on the bull tossed me to the left and then swung me right back onto its back.

Watching the movie reel of the event it looked like a planned move. When asked later how I had perfected it I said it was a once in a lifetime gamble and did not recommend anyone else try it.

I received a check for one thousand dollars and the largest silver belt buckle and trophy I had ever seen. I then found a payphone and made the promised call to Brian Wilson to see how our new song was doing.

Brian was really glad I called, he had been contacted by the TV show, “American Bandstand” and they wanted us to appear as soon as we could while the song was still hot.

I only had one week left before I had to be home so we agreed to do it the following week. I was to fly to Philadelphia on Eastern Airlines and he would have my flight met by a car and driver.

I also called Clint Easterly and thanked him profusely for his introducing me to bull riding and that I was now the American Grand National Junior Champion. I had to describe the ride and my winning move.

He mumbled something about being born with a horseshoe up my butt, but I probably misheard him. We promised to stay in touch and ended the call.

I took a Taxi to a local Sheplers and bought more new clothes and suitcases to carry them in. There was one carryon bag for suits that had compartments for boots! The outline of the boots shows on the outside. It was really neat.

The salesman convinced me that I needed a suit and the carry-on, and by the way, I should probably have new boots while I was at it.

The grey suit with gold edging had that western look; it went well with my black Stetson. I had a hard time choosing between the Ostrich skin and Alligator boots. The helpful salesman pointed out that I could buy both, keeping one pair in the carryon while wearing the others. I left my old rucksack and sleeping bag with them as they were plumb worn out.

When I was buying my ticket at the airport I was asked if it was in first-class or coach, I found that it would only cost seventy-five dollars for first class. I peeled the money off my money clip and paid the lady. This sure was a change from the beginning of the summer!

The flight on the brand new jet plane was smooth and I looked out the window most of the flight. This was really neat and I decided I would learn to fly one day. The meal was a nice little fillet mignon. They kept bringing me Cokes the entire flight. I really needed to pee when the flight landed, I didn’t learn till later they had toilets on the plane.

I thought about swiping the silverware as a souvenir but decided that it didn’t fit my new status as a Texas Ranger. I was learning about pictures in the paper.

A man with a sign met me at the airport and after a quick trip to the restroom we went out to the car. It was a long stretched out car he called a limo. He took me to a big old hotel downtown. At the front desk, they were expecting me and told me my suite was ready.

A man in a funny uniform took me and my bags upstairs and showed me all around my room. He seemed reluctant to leave. He just stood there with his hand in his pocket jingling some change. I didn’t know what to do so I just looked back at him. He turned and left but didn’t seem happy.

Brian Wilson called my room and asked me if everything was okay. I told him it was but that the bellhop seemed unhappy. He asked how much I had tipped him. Uh oh! A small-town kid strikes again. Brian and I agreed to meet in the lobby to go out for dinner.

I got cleaned up and put my fancy new suit on and went down a little early. I explained to the front desk my error with the bellhop and asked what a proper amount would be to tip. They told me a dollar a bag was normal but if I could afford it five dollars would go a long way to making the guy happy.

I was lucky and the bellhop, Johnnie was still on duty. I gave him five bucks and explained I was green as grass. He told me he figured that was the case and thanked me.

Brian and I had a really good dinner at a restaurant called Bookbinders or something like that. The other guys in the band were going elsewhere. I got the idea it might involve drinking and women. Recently things like that were sounding attractive, especially the women part.

The next morning we had breakfast in my hotel suite and went to the studio where they did American Bandstand. The host Dick Clark was real nice to Brian and me and introduced us to another singer a little older than me that was appearing, Paul Anka.

Waiting in a little room called for some reason the Green Room, which was painted grey, we had a really good talk about my possible career as a singer.

Paul had listened to my song. Both Paul and Brian agreed I didn’t have the voice for a career. The song was a novelty hit but that was it. I didn’t disagree with this harsh estimate of my talent.

Paul who turned out to be an astute businessman said, “You might consider donating all the profits from this song to a charity. From what little I know of your story from Brian you will be hit with some hefty taxes.”

Brain agreed that made sense so I made a decision right then and there.

When we were introduced I told the audience that this was a fun song and that I wouldn’t have a career singing so had decided to donate all my profits to the Leukemia Society. Later I was told that was a little overboard, I had just blown fifty thousand dollars.

I do know that before I got off the air I had a phone call from the Leukemia Society wanting to get it in writing. Later in the year, it turned out to be a good move according to Dad’s tax accountant.

The show went well but I later learned that if newspaper stories got around TV did it in spades. I had worn my Texas Ranger badge on my suit. The camera’s focused on it several times.

This caused questions to be asked of the Texas Rangers who told the whole story of my help with capturing the cattle rustlers. This made me national news. Since it wasn’t breaking news it didn’t come out till the weekend and I was safely home.

It was now a week till school started so it was time to head home. The next morning I flew to Dayton Ohio and hired a taxi to drive me to Bellefontaine and home. I had too much stuff to hitchhike now. There was only one problem when I got home, there was no one there.

The house was empty! A neighbor Twyla came out and told me where we had moved to, it was in the nicest area of town, Indian Heights. The driver took me there and this time I had a wonderful welcome.

That was my summer vacation in 1958 and exactly how it happened, give or take a lie or two.

Chapter 10

The cab dropped me off at my new home a week before school was to start. My parents had moved while I was on my summer trip but at least they left word where we had moved to. I knew right away that it was the correct house. My two younger brothers were shooting hoops on the basket attached to the two-car garage.

Denny the oldest yelled, “Mum, he’s home!”

Younger brother Eddie took the opportunity to steal the ball from Denny. This set off one of their typical yelling matches. Yep, I was home.

To say my arrival home was tumultuous would be putting it mildly. I had been gone all summer and had enough adventures for a lifetime. On top of that, I had raised our family's standard of living by providing a new paid-for home, a new car along with money in the bank.

Mum came running out the door and swept me into a hug. Dad was right behind and started to shake my hand, but instead swept me into his own hug. Mary wrapped herself around my leg. At first, it was a continuous babble about the new house, new car, me being home, the adventures I had. No order for anyone of us. The words just flowed. I was home!

Things finally settled down and Mum gave me a tour of our new house. I was shown my new bedroom. Each of us had our own bedroom in the five-bedroom home. There was an eat-in kitchen, dining room, living room with fireplace, family room, a mudroom between the kitchen and garage. The master bedroom suite was downstairs. The upstairs had a junior suite with a small bathroom which was mine.

The other kids shared a bathroom. I suspected that one day my four-year-old sister Mary and I would be switching rooms, but that was in the future.

There was also a full basement with a recreation room. The rec room had a regulation size pool table, with a table tennis top which set on top of the pool table. There was also a fireplace and a wet bar. The laundry room was big and airy; there was a laundry chute on each floor so you could drop dirty clothes all the way to the laundry room!

The lot was about one acre in size which meant I would have a lot of mowing to do. Fortunately, the neighborhood was new enough that the trees were not full-grown, so I wouldn’t have to rake any leaves. I would miss burning them though. There was a brick fireplace out back for grilling, and I could still burn the trash in it, so my inner firebug would be satisfied.

The house had a gas furnace which meant I wouldn’t have to shovel coal and clean out ashes like the last house. That I wouldn’t miss at all. There was nothing worse than getting out of bed on a cold morning, with the coal fire banked, and having to go to the basement to get it going, and then waiting for the house to warm up. There would be five of us standing on the main warm air register on cold days.

I didn’t know if we would have a garden here as we did at the old place, as there weren’t any in our new neighborhood. There wasn’t a clothesline strung, but there was one of those whirly things that always seemed to need restringing.

After my tour of our new house, the family settled into the family room. Things had settled enough we could have a real conversation. There were a hundred questions about my trip.

My rodeo and ribbons were brought out, and I showed off the belt buckles I had won. After showing off my Colt 45’s Mum insisted that I keep them locked up in the gun cabinet in the basement.

My brother Denny pontifically stated, “You told us you camped in a dell. Dell is a proper name, like Mum’s sister Aunt Dell.”

“Denny, Dell can be a proper name like Aunt Dell, but when it is not capitalized it refers to a small secluded valley, similar to a dale. However, while a dale is a small valley, it is not necessarily secluded,” I told our budding young grammar Nazi.

“I was even given a ride by a Mr. Michael Dell out in Texas so Dell can be a first and last name.”

My now pouting brother was told to quit interrupting or go to his room by Mum. I started to tell about the bank robbery but Dad broke in, “We will talk about that later.”

John Wayne had sent the autographed copy of Variety that told about how Elvis Presley, Tab Hunter, and I had got in a fight in Mexico and I had to bail them out of jail. The Mexican Police had sold pictures of us all together with the Police so I couldn’t deny it. Actually Mum and Dad were okay about it.

I think Mr. Wayne's writing; “Wish I was there”, helped.

They wanted to hear all about the movies I was in; even Denny and Eddie were impressed that they would see me on an upcoming Mickey Mouse Club TV show.

They both thought it a shame that I hadn’t a chance to get to know Annette. Denny even wanted to know if I kissed her. As if I could get past those chaperons!

Mum and Dad wanted to know all about John Wayne. They also let me know that Elvis had been drafted and was now in the Army! They also liked the way I had worked my way across the country and not just hitchhiked.

The story about the Texas Rangers and the Rustlers had everyone on the edge of their seats. Mum made a point that I was lucky not to get killed. She seemed to forget I was the one with the guns.

My singing career was amazing to the whole family because we weren’t noted for our ability to keep a tune other than in a bushel basket. None of the family had seen my appearance on American Bandstand. They were all interested in how I was treated in Philadelphia.

When I told them about my promise to the Leukemia Society Dad about had a cow. When I told him about Paul Anka’s and Brian Wilson’s comments on taxes his words were unprintable.

He hates taxes. He blames all of those on President Eisenhower. When he calmed down he reached the conclusion we would have to talk to an accountant.

Luckily I had kept all the paperwork from my trip. This included the record contract, reward notices, rodeo winnings, movie and TV pay, plus my roughneck pay. Mr. Easterly had paid me out of pocket and it was only twenty dollars a week for three weeks.

My brothers and sister left us alone after they established I had not brought them any presents. I wish I had thought of that, especially for Mum and Dad.

When I mentioned that I was sorry about no gifts.

Mum laughed at me. “Ricky you just gave this family this wonderful new house and you haven’t even seen the 1958 Buick Roadmaster we have in the garage!”

This led us into a financial discussion. I had sent home twenty-five thousand dollars from the bank reward. There was probably going to be another eighty-five thousand dollar reward within six months but we wouldn’t count that till it happened.

I also had nine hundred dollars left over from my trip but I intended to keep that separate for my use.

The house had cost sixteen thousand dollars and the car twenty-four hundred. After the new furniture, electric washer, and dryer we had a little over six thousand dollars left. My parents asked me what I wanted to do with that. I turned the question around to them.

“You know more of what the family needs than I do. What do you think?”

Mum and Dad exchanged looks and Dad started.

“Rick, work hasn’t been good. You know I’m only on the extra board on the railroad. I only get called for work after all the regular full-time employees have been scheduled for their forty-hour work weeks. Many weeks there aren’t forty hours of work available to me.”

“I thought you have been working there since you came back from the war. Don’t you have seniority?”

All railroad kids knew about seniority.  Dad’s time book where he kept track of his hours even had a list of employees and their starting years. When he started in 1946 the most senior person had been there since 1898.

“I have, but the railroad has been declining faster than my seniority has been building. Trucks, buses, and the new jet planes are taking over the freight and passenger business. I am afraid the railroad days are numbered for me. We own some stock in the New York Central and it keeps going down. I don’t think the government will let it shut down but it will be much smaller and consolidated with fewer employees than ever.”

“What are you going to do?”

Chapter 11

“Mum and I have an idea; we have been talking about this ever since you sent the reward money. We still own the house on North Detroit Street. We would like to fix it up and rent it out. If that works we would like to buy others and do the same thing.”

“How will the finances work?”

“The Detroit Street house is worth eleven thousand dollars. We put twenty percent down and started with an eighty-eight hundred dollar mortgage.  At two percent interest, for thirty years, that works out as thirty-two dollars for the monthly house payment.”

“We have checked with two local realtors and they both suggested we ask for seventy-five dollars a month for the house. We would put away twenty dollars a month for repairs, insurance, and it sitting empty.”

“That would give us twenty-three dollars a month for the family budget. Our thinking is to get that house into shape, rent it out, and then buy others.”

“Duplexes seem to be the best bet as the cost wouldn’t be that much more and you could rent each side out for sixty dollars a month. That would be one hundred and twenty dollars a month income with a set aside of forty dollars or eighty dollars to the family for every duplex we own.”

Mum stepped in, “If we owned five units like that we would be making four hundred dollars a month which would more than replace Jacks's railroad income in a good year. Seven units would allow for units sitting empty. Ten and we would be rich.”

“Let’s go for rich,” I replied.

“Dad I am big enough I now could help with home repairs and keep lawns mowed and things like that. We have enough leftover that we could buy two units right now with twenty percent down.”

“Rick we can do better than that, the North Detroit house has seven thousand dollars in equity,” said Dad.

“What’s equity?”

The difference between what the house is worth and the amount we owe on it. We can take out a new loan up to eighty percent of the amount of equity we have. If we are careful about what we buy and how much money we need for repairs we can start out with five duplexes.”

“What do we have to do to start?”

“We have identified three units we would like to buy if the price and building conditions are right.”

“I am all for it!”

“Okay son, your mother and I feel that ownership should be set up that the houses go to you if anything should happen to us. We are going to talk to a lawyer about how to make that happen.”

And that was the beginning of Jackson Housing.

My parents had one last question, “What is in that shipping box that is marked, Do Not Open?”

I told them about finding the gold and what the gold miners told me about gold being deregulated. Dad remembered everyone having to turn in their gold during the Great Depression. He remembered because it was a bitter joke in his house, they had no gold to turn in.

They agreed that we should look into that possibility because it could end up as a small fortune. In the meantime, Dad would look into a safe deposit box to store it.

They also had some information for me.

Dad said, “George Weaver of the Bellefontaine Examiner will be contacting you. He was called for information on you by James Olsen out in Colorado after the bank robbery. George did not know much other than you weren’t known as a juvenile delinquent and had been a paperboy.”

While not a loner I didn’t have any close friends in my middle school years. Those friends from my grade school days had moved away. I knew most of the kids from my grade school but didn’t get invited to their birthday parties.

That was how you knew your social status in those days. I hadn’t any social status. I wasn’t an outcast. I just wasn’t in any of the groups.

The first thing I did the next day was going to J.C. Penny and buy new school clothes. All that I had that would fit me were my cowboy outfits. Those would do for the rodeo circuit and my singing appearances but would get me teased to death in Bellefontaine.

Even if I must say so myself I looked good with my Ivy League pants (a buckle in the back) and a Cardigan. I also splurged on a pair of dirty bucks, a brown suede shoe. I thought about blue suede shoes, but Elvis hadn’t worn them when we went out together so I figured they must just be from the song.

I had mixed feelings about the start of the school year. I couldn’t wait to try out the idea of reading ahead and working on the problems in advance of the class.

I did hate the idea of going back to school because I was fourteen years old, and all fourteen-year-olds disliked going back to school, I think it was a rule or something. I did like the idea of being in High School instead of Middle School. This meant I would be meeting new people (girls).

I didn’t know how I would be treated once word came out on my summer vacation. I wanted to tell everyone my story, but I didn’t want to be a braggart.

Getting the story out was taken care of before school started. George Weaver of the Bellefontaine Examiner rang the doorbell of our new home and asked for me.

He knew I was due home about now and wanted to talk to me before they printed anything. When Mum and Dad told me about the interview we agreed that I should tell him about the whole summer and share all the evidence that I had that it was true.

Dad was downtown talking to a lawyer about how to set up a business so Mum sat in on the interview. Mr. Weaver asked me to tell my story.

I prepared him with, “The story is more than you know, and I hope you have some time.”

I then launched into my summer trip.

The run-up to the bank robbery I covered quickly. I shared the news article written in Colorado, the reward posters for John and Ernest Johnson. I also had a carbon copy of the FBI report and a deposit slip for the rewards.

I then moved onto the bull riding and winning rodeos right up to the National Championship. For that, I had trophies, ribbons, silver belt buckles, and prize monies receipts.

I then showed him my Screen Actors Guild card and the deposit receipts for my Mickey Mouse Club appearances. They had also given me the viewing dates which were still a month in the future. At this point, I think Mr. Weaver was going to have a fit. He was bouncing around in his chair.

When I got to the John Wayne and Elvis parts he couldn’t sit anymore. He kept notes while walking around the room. I showed him my salary receipts for “It Never Happened” and “Hell Fighters” along with my John Wayne autographed copy of Variety.

There was also my Oil Workers union card and paycheck stub for being a roughneck.

I thought he was going to have a heart attack when he learned about the rustling episode and my Texas Ranger badge.

We actually had to stop the interview for a while in fear of Mr. Weaver’s health. Apparently, this was the biggest story he ever had. Mum offered him tea but he declined by saying he had an ulcer. She then brought him a glass of milk for which he was grateful.

The last news I had to tell him was about, “Rock and Roll Cowboy” and being on Bandstand.  By now I think he was numb because he just kept taking notes. When I finally finished he asked if he could use the phone.

He called his office and had them send a photographer out. He then proceeded to spend the next three hours going over my story for the fine details. He was professional and I didn’t feel pressured.

After the pictures were taken of trophies, ribbons, badge, etc. he told us that the story was long enough that it would be spread out several days next week or even the week after. He wanted to get this one right as he thought it might go national.

Chapter 12

The first school week was a short week as Labor Day fell on a Monday. So on Tuesday, September 2, 1958, I started my High School career. The previous Friday I had gone to the school office and picked up my class schedule, and paid my school fees.

These were for Biology and some poor frog I would have to cut up a Biology workbook, and two locks. The locks were for my coat locker and gym locker.

I also took the time to check out where my classrooms and homeroom were. Since my Middle School was attached to the High School I knew the building fairly well.

After that, I walked downtown to G.C. Murphy Five and Dime and bought a three-ring binder for my homework, pencils, paper, and a fountain pen. I splurged on the paper; they now had it in a green tint and with narrow lines instead of the boring white paper with wide lines. I soon regretted that purchase the first time my assignment was, “Write one full page on…”

The first day was taking attendance, getting seating assignments straight. Some teachers didn’t care where you sat. Others wanted you in alphabetical order. Books were handed out and we wrote our names on the pasted in book slip on the inside cover. I also got the soon to be famous, “What did you do on your summer vacation,” English assignment.

I ran into several kids I knew at lunchtime and it was amazing how much some of them had grown over the summer. The boys up, and the girls out. Well, many of the girls were taller, but that isn’t what I noticed. I was surprised when my growth got the most comments.

Not only my growing taller but by being in shape. My friend Tom Pew wanted to know what I had been doing. I went all mysterious to him and told him he would have to read about it in the newspaper like everyone else.

He laughed and moved on with a, “See you later alligator.”

I brilliantly rejoined with, “After while crocodile.”

He came back with, “Don’t get wise beady eyes.”

Then I gave the conversation topper, “Understand Rubber Band.” We were such wits.

My growth was really brought home to me in gym class. Coach Crowley gave us the rules of the road. We were told what type of shorts, shirts, and shoes we had to buy. It was made clear we had to shower after class, and to bring a clean towel from home. We might even want to buy a gym bag!

He then went around and talked to some of the freshmen. I knew this was to talk to the kids going out for sports. I was surprised when he came up to me and asked if I was going to try out for football.

The regular varsity team had been practicing for two weeks but they had freshman tryouts after the school year had started. They did this because of the growth spurts that teenagers had between the eighth and ninth grades.

“I never thought about it.”

“Did you grow a lot this summer?”

“I did, Coach.”

“I thought so, or I would’ve noticed you before. You are of a size you could be a running back or even a quarterback if you have the arm.”

“When are tryouts?’

“After school this Thursday, come on out to the football field if you are interested. We could really use some new players this year. We lost most of our first-string Varsity to graduation last year.”

“I will give it serious thought, I never thought I would be big enough to play so haven’t given it any thought.”

Coach laughed, “You know I teach one of the English classes. You might want to think about how many times you used “thought” in that sentence.”

“After I said it, I thought it might be a problem.”

Coach gave me a swat on the arm and moved on.

When I got home that afternoon about 3:45 I had brought all my school books with me, a first. My first duty was to wrap all my school books in book covers. I used the ones sold by the band club.

They were expensive at fifteen cents each but they were in the red and black school colors and had BHS with a bell on the front.

I then proceeded to get ahead. I read the first chapter in the English book. It was the start of diagraming sentences. It took about half an hour to read the lesson and diagram the practice sentences at the end of the chapter.

I found that the correct answers were at the back of the book and that I had them all right. I could see where this would work out well. I was going to English class tomorrow and would understand what Miss Bales was talking about.

She was known as a tough grader and I needed every break I could get to make an A in her class.

Algebra was easy after I got it through my head that subtracting a negative number turns that number to a positive. Does that mean two wrongs make a right? Anyway, it only took about twenty minutes to get the problems worked. The correct answers being in the back of the book sure helped.

Latin was easy but tedious; I wrote out each vocabulary word ten times while saying it out loud along with its meaning. Then I had to translate the simple sentences in the back of the chapter. Again the back of the book helped a lot.

Biology took a while because I had to read the first chapter; then do the first chapter in the workbook. The workbook questions were filling in the blank so I did them as I went. I had no correct answers for those so I would have to wait and see.

World history was not so easy, after reading the chapter the questions at the end required writing a paragraph about each event covered in the book. It also referred to other references that I didn’t have.

We did have an Encyclopedia Americana so I used that as my basic reference. It took about ten minutes to write about each question. I wrote each out on a separate sheet of paper so I could turn in what was requested.

I got everything done in time to watch the Mickey Mouse Club with my two brothers. After that, I helped Mum by setting the table for dinner.  After dinner, I told her I would wash the dishes.

She wanted to know who I was and what had I done with her son! This did not stop her from letting me do the dishes. When I was done Dad asked to speak with me.

We went down to the basement and he closed the door behind us after telling Mum to keep the children upstairs.

I was beginning to wonder what was going on! It came out quickly.

“Rick, let’s talk about that bank robbery. You killed two men. How do you feel about that?”

“Dad I really don’t know how I feel. It all happened so fast it didn’t feel like I did anything. All of a sudden they were dead.”

“How did you react after the shooting was finished?”

I proceeded to tell him how I just stood there almost in shock and felt numb for several hours.

“Have you had dreams or intense memories of what has happened?”

“How intense are the memories you are talking about because I do think about it at times?”

“Do you all of a sudden feel like you are there again and it is happening all over again?”

“No.”

“Good let me tell you why I am asking. I saw some fighting during the War but not like some people. You know Bill Samson who always sat on the wall down by the courthouse?”

“Yes, he would be there every day, if he wasn’t on his front porch drinking a beer.”

“Well Bill and I got drunk one night and he told me about his war. He was on the second wave of landings that hit Omaha Beach on D-Day. He was with the 29th Division, a group from Virginia. He told me how he could hear the bullets rattle off the front of their landing craft and knowing that when the front was lowered to let them out, that most of them would die.

He was lucky; he was one of the last off. He had to climb over his dead friends to get out. They had landed in the wrong spot because of the wind and tide. With very little cover they had to scale a cliff rather than the smooth beach they were supposed to be at. All-day long his friends were killed and he had to keep going.”

“Today almost fifteen years later he still can’t sleep a complete night. He wakes up screaming not wanting that landing door to open. That is why he never was able to hold a job”

“Was? What happened?”

“He committed suicide last month. He stuck his pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger. He left a note saying he was leaving to visit some old friends.”

“Anytime death is involved it can affect people, especially if it is by violence. Your mother and I were concerned about how you were handling this.”

“Dad I haven’t felt anything like you are describing.”

“I am so glad to hear that, I think that it was so fast that it didn’t really register with you. If you do start to have flashbacks about the shootings, please let us know.”

“I will.”

Dad then changed the subject. “I had a talk with Eugene Burke an attorney. He suggested that we form a corporation. It will be expensive, two hundred dollars, but will protect the family from general lawsuits from the business and split everything between your Mother, you and me.

“That sounds like it sets us up as you talked about. Do I have to do anything?”

“No, as a minor we sign for you. The corporation will be split three ways with a third for each of us.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

That night in bed I thought about Bill Samson. We kids had joked about the town drunk for years. If only we had known. Another thought that kept running around my mind was that I thought I was a tough guy after the bank shootings.

The thought of sitting in that boat waiting for the door to drop and let in all those bullets was frightening beyond belief. I wasn’t a tough guy.

Chapter 13

The next morning after going through my exercise routine I had pretty well shaken off the dark thoughts of the night before and was looking forward to the school day. From our new home, it only took about ten minutes to walk to school.

When I came out of the front door there were several kids going towards school, so it was natural to join them. We kept picking up kids along the way till about ten or twelve of us arrived at school.

We had a casual conversation on the way to school. After we went through the front door of the schoolhouse I couldn’t tell you about anything we discussed.

School on Wednesday proved interesting in several ways. First of all, I have never felt so on top of things as in my classwork. I quickly learned that I only had to pay half attention to the lecture as they were going over material that I had studied the night before and felt comfortable with. I started reading the next chapter ahead. That worked very well.

At the end of Algebra class, I realized there was something I didn’t understand in the next chapter. Mr. Buckley our teacher gave out that night’s assignment in the last fifteen minutes of our forty-five-minute class session and told us to get to work.

If we had any questions we were to raise our hands. Since it was every other problem at the back of the chapter I had those done and correctly.

I raised my hand and Mr. Buckley came to my desk. I showed him what I didn’t understand. He started to get a little huffy about working the problems at the end of today’s chapter.

I quickly showed him that I had worked ALL of the problems. He got a great big smile and invited me up to his desk and showed me what I was missing on tomorrow’s homework.

I wasn’t able to finish all of tomorrow’s Algebra problems, but it wouldn’t take that long at home or study hall. I had two study halls on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Tuesdays and Thursday only had one because of gym class.

World History was a revelation. Mr. McMillian told us we could pick any one question at the back of the chapter to write an essay on. All the references quoted in the book were either in the school library or the study hall library.

Since I was excited about school work I decided to do every question that was at the end of the chapter. Fortunately, we were doing one chapter a week, so I only had to do one essay a day.

Mr. McMillian then really made my day by saying we would get extra credit for every essay we turned in over and above the one required.

One interesting thing other than schoolwork was girls. They noticed me! It was nothing exciting (other than to me) or sexual. Just that the girls that sat next to me in every class would say, “Hello” and make inquiries about my summer or the fact that I had grown so much. I gave nothing away about my summer and made polite conversation for the one or two minutes before the teacher started.

Thursday is when it all started. The beginning was when I got my English paperback.

It had the comment, “Well written but I did not ask for a work of fiction.”

The grade was an “F”. I was totally crushed and I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing. Well, I guess I flushed very red because Miss Bales glared at me like she was waiting for me to open my mouth. She was well known for assigning detention. I kept my mouth shut.

After thinking very evil thoughts for a while I realized that the Bellefontaine Examiner article would make it clear that I was telling the truth. I would approach her with a copy of the paper and ask her to revise my grade.

The rest of the day went by quickly. I had to hustle to keep ahead in my reading and answering all of the questions. I was doing about twice as much as most students.

I say most students because I realized that other kids were in the libraries every day and working diligently in study hall. Until I had stumbled into that orientation session at Berkeley I had never known that this level of schooling existed.

I hadn’t planned any goals in life, but it did not take much to figure out this would keep a lot of options open.

After school, it was time for football tryouts. I would like to report that I was a natural and the Coaches wanted me to play on the Varsity team for Friday’s first game.

What the reality was that I was strong, I could catch the ball; I could pass the ball fairly well, but couldn’t run worth a darn. I didn’t have the stamina needed and was too slow to boot.

My discouragement must have shown because Coach Crowley took me aside and explained that stamina could be earned. I just had to run every day.

I had to run long distances to build my wind and do sprints to work on speed. As he pointed out I had grown a lot recently and my body hadn’t had a chance to catch up.

“What time do you get up in the morning Rick,” he asked.

“Seven o’clock to be at school at 8:30.”

“Try getting up at Six o’clock and see how far you can run. Don’t push it, just get a comfortable speed and keep at it as long as you can. At first, you will be doing good to go for five minutes before you have to walk for a while.

Keep that up for several weeks and I guarantee that you will be able to run for the whole hour. Not real fast but your stamina will have increased that much.”

“In the meantime, we will carry you on the squad and let you practice. We aren’t really limited on how many we can carry for the first month.”

I decided that I would get up early and run. I’m not certain to this day what was driving me, but I was taking control of my life and making good things happen.

When I got home that night, Mr. Weaver had dropped off a copy of the story that was going to run in the paper for three days starting Monday. It was all correct, but it made me look like some sort of super kid.

All the high points were there, but none of the low points like camping in the desert because of no ride or that first lonely night on the road or how falling off of a horse got me in a John Wayne movie. I wondered if this was how most hero stories really went.

On Friday I set the alarm for 6:00 o’clock and crawled out of bed. I did wonder how anyone could jump out of bed. I ran and walked till 7:00 o’clock.

Okay, I walked more than I ran.

When I came into the house; Mum said, “PU, up to the bath with you boy.”

The bath in my room also had a shower with it. I tried it for my first shower ever. I don’t think I have taken a bath since.

My hair was still wet when I left for school. I wished I had one of those industrial dryers I saw at the gold mine.

At school, before I went to my homeroom I stopped into Miss Bales room and asked her if she had a minute. She did.

I handed her a copy of Mr. Weaver’s story and explained that it would be published in the Examiner starting next Monday. She took the papers absently and laid it on her desk. I didn’t get any reaction from her.

When I went to English class late in the day I did get that reaction. She started out with a statement.

“There is a student whom I owe an apology. Mr. Jackson turned in his paper on his summer vacation and I gave him an F. I had asked for a factual report on your summer. He turned in a well-written piece of fiction, or so I thought. His grade has been changed to an A and I urge all of you to read the Bellefontaine newspaper Monday evening.

This, of course, had the school speculating for the rest of the day on what would be in the paper. More kids came up to me and asked what was going on. More than I usually talked to in a month.

I told everyone, “Just read the paper, it is too long to tell here.”

Chapter 14

Friday night was quiet. I went to the youth center, but for some reason couldn’t get into the conversation or antics of the other kids. The only cute girls there were traveling in packs, and I couldn’t get close to them, so I went home early. Being in at ten o’clock when I had an eleven o’clock curfew about floored my parents.

They wanted to know what was going on. I told them it just was boring.

Dad laughed and remarked, “After your summer, the rest of your life might seem boring.”

That was really frightening, had my life peaked at fourteen?

Mum said dryly, “I suspect he will get up to something to relieve the boredom.”

I went to my room and listened to records on my portable stereo record player while reading the latest from Robert Heinlein. I made a mental note to get some more of the plastic inserts for my forty-five rpm records. The insert went into the large center hole of the 45’s so they would adapt to the spindle which was made small for 33’s.

On Saturday I was up early and did my exercises, including my new one-hour run-walk. My stamina was getting a lot better. I could now run the whole distance without getting winded. The first couple of tries I would get a stitch in my side, but Coach had told me to run through that. It worked. I guess that was the second wind.

The bad part was, I couldn’t seem to run any faster, no matter how much I practiced sprinting. After running I mowed the lawn. Once I got cleaned up the rest of the day should be mine.

After taking my shower I went downstairs to look for some breakfast. Mum was there and came out with a typical Mum statement.

“Your hair is still wet. You will catch your death.”

Since it was a beautiful fall day I didn’t think it would be a problem now, but when it got cold out, I would have to rethink the situation. I remembered that handheld industrial dryer I saw at the gold mine. I should check up on that. It would be neat to be able to dry my hair quickly.

I had a Boy Scout meeting at the Lutheran Church so I rode my bike down the hill coasting most of the way. The whole town of Bellefontaine was on the side of Campbell’s Hill. It is the highest point in the State of Ohio. At fifteen hundred feet above sea level, it wasn’t really that tall.

At least it didn’t seem that tall going from east to west in town. Going from west to east you realized that it was long and steep! I could pedal all the way going home but it was a strain.

The scout meeting was to plan for an upcoming camporee. There would be contests such as knot tying, chopping logs, and fire building, swimming and orienteering.  I was a patrol leader and had to decide who in my patrol would compete in which contests. The trick was to pick the best at each event, but also not leave anyone out. If my patrol didn’t have someone that was good or wanted to perform I had to do it.

My Scout Master cornered me. He asked, “Rick, when are you going to complete your Citizenship in the Nation merit badge? You have twenty-nine badges so you have more than the twenty-one required for Eagle, you just don’t have the last required badge, or would you rather switch to the Brother in the World one?

You were the Senior Patrol Leader last year, and still are a Patrol Leader, so you have met the leadership requirements. That spring cleaning we did at the church took care of service so you only need the one badge for Eagle.”

“I will complete the Citizenship in the Nation badge within two weeks,” I promised.

“Why the push to do it now, I have till I am eighteen?”

“Simple Rick, it is well established once a boy discovers girls and cars all thoughts of Eagle Scout go out of their head.”

I couldn’t disagree with that, as he was talking, a couple of girls walked by the window distracting me.

“What is holding you up, Rick?”

“The tours of two federal facilities requirement, I have to do that yet.”

Mr. Geist, my Scout Master shook his head. “Rick, remember that tour of the radar base on top of Campbell’s Hill we took last year?”

“Yes.”

“What about the tour of the Post Office?  If I remember right you organized that when you were Senior Patrol Leader.”

“Yes, I had to call the Post Master Mr. Williams to make arrangements.”

“Who owns the airbase and the Post Office?”

“Oh, I have been dumber than dumb.”

“Who is your merit badge counselor for this?”

“Mr. Wolfe my eighth-grade history teacher.”

He rummaged around in his ever-present briefcase and came up with a blue merit badge card. He then signed off on the federal facility tours.

“Take this to your teacher and if he has signed off on everything else you are good to go. By the way, who did you write to, a Congressman or Senator?”

“I wrote to Senator Taft about the Russians getting to space before we did with Sputnik. We need to get serious or they will get to the moon before we do. His reply was that he was supporting a bill to do just that. I was able to use the letter and his reply for extra credit in the class.”

“That is the way we want you to think, how to get the most for your efforts. I expect to see the signed off card next week now that I know you are so close.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Sunday was a nothing day. We didn’t attend church as a family. I got in a pickup football game early in the afternoon. That evening my parents told me I was babysitting while they went to my Uncle Ross’s house to play cards.

I was able to get Denny and Eddie playing with tinker toys while I played house with Mary. While it was still light we all went outside and tried out the new toy Dad had picked up. It was called a Hula Hoop.

Before long half the kids in the neighborhood were there, trying to make the hoop go around. Eleanor Price really looked good as she twisted around. She was sixteen and had really filled out.

We then started a game of ‘Hide and Seek’ but since I had Mary with me it wasn’t that fun. Hiding with your four-year-old sister isn’t the same as hiding with Eleanor! Of course, Eleanor had never paid any attention to me, as she considered me one of the little kids.

Monday morning opened the school week. I didn’t worry about any of my classes as I had read ahead on all of them and done all the problems. I didn’t even have any questions for my teachers.

I walked to school with Tom Morton and Bill Cairns. They lived further from the school than I did so I just blended in with them as they walked by. They were sophomores but were friendly enough.

Tom started out with, “Knock, Knock.”

I played straight man and came back with, “Who’s there?”

“Butter”

“Butter who?”

“I butter not tell you, it’s a secret!”

At my age, we were great wits.

They had heard that a story about me was going to be in the Examiner tonight. Both of them tried to get me to tell all. I was able to hold them off until Eleanor Prices' house. She came out in front of us kids and swayed down the walk. We were so mesmerized that there were no further questions.

Before going to my homeroom I went to the middle school side where Mr. Wolfe taught. He was already in, so I was able to explain to him about the Federal facilities I had already visited. I gave him the blue Merit Badge card that my Scout Master had signed off. He stapled that to his copy which had everything else signed off.

He asked me if I had ever been in a bank, our local National Guard Armory, or out to a Civil Air Patrol show. Of course, I had been to all of them.

“Ricky all of them under special circumstances are part of the Federal infrastructure and can be called on at the time of need. Even the New York Central Railroad was nationalized at one point.”

I really felt dumb again because I knew of all of this but never thought of it that way.

“I remember Dad was so mad when President Truman seized the railroads to avoid a strike in 1950.”

For me to remember, Dad must have been really mad because I was only six at the time.

I told Mr. Wolfe that I now had everything to turn in for my Eagle Scout Badge. He shook my hand and congratulated me.

As I turned to leave he remarked, “I am looking forward to today’s newspaper.”

This really concerned me. It seemed everyone had heard that something was going on. The rest of the day was like that. I did ask for a pass to get out of study hall. My reason was to talk to the shop teacher. Since I didn’t take the shop, Mr. Hurley the study Hall monitor wanted to know why I wanted to see him.

Chapter 15

I explained there was an industrial dryer that I wanted to find but didn’t even know where to start so I hoped he could point me in the right direction.

“Ricky, ask Mr. Donaldson to see the Thomas Register.”

“What is that?”

“A listing by product, and what companies make them.”

“Great that is exactly what I need.”

Mr. Donaldson had a complete set of the 15 volume book in his office. It was dated last year, but he told me that the school would only buy a new set for the shop every three years.

He helped me look up Industrial Dryers. The most promising company was “Conair” in Franklin PA. I wrote their address down and thanked him. When I returned to the study hall I immediately wrote a letter to them asking for information on their Industrial Dryers.

After study hall, I was able to buy a stamp at the school office, drop the letter in the mailbox, and still make class on time.

The school day took forever. I was waiting for the newspaper to come out like many others. I wanted the day to end. My school work plan was proving stronger than I thought it would. We had several snap quizzes in Latin, Algebra, and English. I was getting A’s without any strain.

Finally, the last bell rang and I went to football practice. Coach had us run many laps, doing push up’s and setups, we also had to run through a long row of old tires, lifting our feet. I had good wind and was able to do everything Coach asked. I just couldn’t do it as fast as others. I began to realize that I may not have a football career.

After practice, I approached Coach Crowley. “Coach, I have my wind and stamina built up but I can’t seem to go any faster.”

“Ricky I don’t have an answer, your body isn’t built for the running speed you would need. You are tall and thin, so you don’t have the weight to play the line. I don’t want to tell you no today, but you probably won’t make the cut.”

“I’m disappointed, but only a little. I didn’t have my heart set on playing football. You’re the one who asked me to try out. It has been good for me anyway. My ability to run has improved and that can’t hurt. Maybe I can go out for the cross country in the track event.”

“That would be an option, but don’t get your hopes up, there are some boys on the track team that have your stamina and can run much faster.”

“Darn, there goes my professional sports career.”

“Have you thought of something like golf?”

“No, I don’t even know how to play.”

“You have the body type. Why don’t you talk to Coach Stone, I will mention it to him that you might be interested.”

“I would appreciate that Coach. I have an urge to play some sport, but not any that I can’t do well.”

“So are you officially dropping from the team?”

“Yes, this has helped me, and I intend to keep running, but I don’t want to waste our time.”

“Good luck Rick, I will be watching you win the USA PGA amateur!”

“Yeah, that’ll be the day.”

“Now we are done with that, what is going to be in the paper tonight?”

I laughed, “You will have to wait till you get home.”

I took a shower after my exercise. A couple of kids, led by the ex-Mayor's son Tom Humphreys started riding me about quitting football.

“Look at the pansy, he is afraid to get hit,” came from Tom.

They kept this up for a while but since I didn’t respond it went nowhere.

I walked home and finished up what little work I had to do in tomorrow’s lessons. Kate Smith had just sung “God Bless America” when the newspaper arrived. I skipped the Mickey Mouse Club on TV to read the story. It was exactly the same as the copy that Mr. Weaver had given us, so I hadn’t any complaints.

About five minutes later the phone started ringing. It rang all evening. All my relatives wanted to talk to my parents to see if the story was true. The story started with stopping the bank robbery by killing two men.

It then continued with my rodeo career. Mr. Weaver took things out of sequence as he went from my third rodeo win to the National Championships.

My Mum and Dad would take turns answering the phone. About seven o’clock the front door opened and staggered my Uncle Wally. He was drunk as usual when he was home.

His job as a union organizer would have him all over the country. He would get a job inside a factory and get the workers all riled up so they would vote for the union. I didn’t care for him.

Wally wanted to borrow money as he figured that my parents had control of the reward money. He had a scheme to buy stock in an oil well which would make us all rich. Mum asked him to leave. He kept talking and talking. She finally picked up a broom and chased him out of the house. Mum wields a mean broom!

Dad was lucky. He was on the phone the whole time so he didn’t get dragged into it. We kids were watching out the window as Mum chased him to the car hitting him about every other swing.

By this time Wally had quit talking except to say, “No Peg, Please Peg. Quit it Peg.”

Wally was able to get in his car and drive away. Mum was waving her broom in a Victory dance as the neighbors looked on. I bet they wondered about us.

The next morning I met Tom Morton and Bill Cairns in what had become our routine walk to school.

Tom asked me, “Did you really kill two men?”

“I did.”

“That must have been terrible.”

“It was.”

Bill Cairns wanted to know about the reward money and did I have it.

“Bill, go down to see our old house on North Detroit Street and look at this. You will see where the money went.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Well, it wasn’t all the money. I was allowed to keep some to spend this year.”

I wasn’t about to tell them I had nine hundred dollars. Seeing my Uncle Wally in action had taught me a lesson on how people try to get your money. I wondered if Mum would let me borrow her broom.

When Eleanor came out she didn’t take her usual place in front of us, sigh. She joined us and started asking questions about the story. This set a pattern for the day. Every guy I talked to wanted to know about the bank robbery, killing people, and the reward.

Girls focused on the rodeo for some reason. The conversation would start with bull riding but very quickly go to Western fashions.

What did the girls wear out west? Was it like they saw on TV and in the Movies? I was able to tell them the fancy Western dress was for special occasions, that most of the time the girls wore the same clothes as they did.

Actually, I had no idea what they wore when but saw they wanted some sort of answer and wouldn’t give up till I came up with one.

This went on between every class and lunch all day long. I walked down to Wilcox’s grocery to avoid the cafeteria but still ran into many questions.

The only question that got my attention was Mr. Hurleys. He took me aside in the study hall and asked, “Ricky, are you having any flashbacks to the robbery?”

“No Sir, my Dad went over this with me, and I appear to be okay. The events seem to be further away and more remote every day. I just remember it in general terms now. Not every second and I haven’t had any dreams about it.”

“That’s right your Dad was in the Army, he would know. I just wanted to make certain you were all right.”

“Thank you for your interest, it is appreciated.”

I wondered how Mr. Hurley knew about flashbacks. For a moment I thought of the front door dropping open on a landing craft. I gave a small shudder.

Mr. Hurley noticed and asked again, “Are you certain you haven’t any issues.”

“No Sir, I recently heard about Bill Samson and what he went thru during the war. Knowing what he went through makes what I did seem like nothing.”

Mr. Hurley smiled as he said, “You’ve learned one of life’s lessons, no matter how hard, how bad. Someone else has had it worse. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and glanced down at his bare arm as he said this. He had some numbers tattooed there. I hadn’t any idea what they meant.

Chapter 16

After school, since I didn’t have football practice, I went straight home. After shooting hoops with Denny and Eddie, and helping Mary with the Hula Hoop, we all marched in to see the Mickey Mouse Club. Spin and Marty were on, but I wasn’t in it yet.

Shortly after the show was over, the paper arrived with part two of my story. Again it was the same as Mr. Weaver’s advance copy. It was really weird when I read about being in the Mickey Mouse segments, two different films with John Wayne plus bailing Elvis out of jail.

Mum and Dad got home at that time. They had been grocery shopping, picking up hot dogs, hamburgers, and all the buns plus soft drinks. They told me to answer the phone and just invite whoever called over for a cookout. We would answer questions then, they didn’t want to go through as many calls as last night.

They no sooner said this than the phone started ringing. I grabbed my school notebook and kept track of everyone who called and asked how many they would be bringing. Altogether there would be forty-three people at the cookout. It was five-thirty. I was to tell them to be here at six o’clock.

Uncle Wally called and I told him he could come over but remember Mum still had her broom. He called me some names I’m not supposed to use. He showed up and behaved himself.

All my cousins and friends wanted to know if I had kissed Annette. I told them it would be on the show next week and they would get to see how close I got to kiss her.

The guys thought it was really cool that I met John Wayne. We snuck down to the basement and I showed them the Colt 45’s he let me have, I was careful to lock them back up after we left.

Then we went to my bedroom to show off my black cowboy hat made by Resistol. The Resistol brand wasn’t as famous as Stetson but I thought it was a better hat. I wore the hat for the rest of the evening. No one gave me any grief.

The girls all had questions about Elvis. They were disappointed that I didn’t have anything autographed. All the kids wanted to know about the fight in the Mexican Cantina. The guys assured me they would have whipped the Mexicans. I didn’t contradict them. However, the eight guys that I remember would’ve had our crowd for lunch.

The adults all wanted to know how much I had been paid. I explained that I received the SAG daily rate for bit players of sixty dollars.

A neighbor exclaimed, “That little!”

Of all people, my Uncle Wally quietly asked him, “He made that in a day, how much did you earn last week?”

That cut that conversation off.

We all had a good time. My little sister Mary kept answering the phone. She would say, “Jackson’s come on over,” and hang up. Listening and watching the serious look on her face was fun. We were surprised when Mr. Weaver showed up. He said, “Mary told me to come on over. I wanted to do a follow-up and see how the story was being received.

He was invited to have something to eat. He promptly dug in but also asked almost everyone what they thought of the last two days' stories. They all agreed the bank robbery was scary. The rodeo wins puzzled them because I wasn’t a known athlete. The movies were all wow, that lucky stiff.

Again I was really surprised when my Uncle Wally said, “Just think Ricky wouldn’t have had these adventures if Jack and Peg weren’t willing to let him take a chance.”

Wally really puzzles me, just when I have him pegged as a bum he acts like he has tonight.

The evening ended at nine o’clock as it was a school night. Mum and Dad told everyone they were doing it again tomorrow. It worked much better than being on the telephone till eleven at night. As he left Mr. Weaver asked if he could come the next day.

Of course, he could, he was getting to be a member of the family.

Mary looked at him and solemnly said, “You don’t even have to call first.”

He thanked her profusely. He also said, “I will behave myself, I hear your Mum can hit hard with her broom.”

My Mum put in, “Yes I can George and if that is in the paper you will find out how hard.” Mum always said what she was thinking.

The next day which was Wednesday it was raining so we all rushed to the schoolhouse and there weren’t many questions on the way. The day was like a replay of yesterday, questions in the hall between classes, and in the cafeteria. The questions were all variations on those asked at the cookout last night.

During study hall, there were so many whispered questions Mr. Hurley asked if I would mind standing up in front, and answering them, so we could put it behind us and get on with our work.

I couldn’t say no to him. Especially, since I had read about tattoos of numbers on arms in the encyclopedia last night. Now when I thought of the landing craft doors coming down I would also think of the pictures I had seen of the German concentration camps. What a world I had been sheltered from!

One thing that was very noticeable was that girls my age were going out of their way to talk to me. All wasn’t bad!

The rain had let up by the evening so there was another cookout. Now the story was about the cattle rustlers, capturing them and being made a Deputy Texas Ranger. The guys wanted to know every detail.

The girls listened but then started with the questions about Brian Wilson and The Beach Boys, and my appearance on American Bandstand.

The girls grilled me for half an hour about what the girls on bandstand wore if Paul Anka was as nice as he was cute. I felt like the police had me under their spotlights.

A couple of people there had seen the show, and everyone loved “Rock and Roll Cowboy.” But not one of them had associated Rick Jackson the singer with me. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or not.

I did find out about my nice Uncle Wally, he cornered me and asked if I wanted to make a lot of money. I told him to talk to my parents. He got a little nasty and left. Now I know that he was just trying to get in good with me last night. What a bum!

Thursday at school was a replay of the past two days. Mr. Hurley must have shared what he did in the study hall with Mr. Gordon our principal. I was called to the office during homeroom.

He asked me if I would take questions from the whole school if they held a special assembly. I agreed to that, so he announced over the school PA system that the second period would be an assembly, and that teachers were to collect questions from their classes for me to answer.

I had been answering questions for days now and had some answers thought through. When I was asked what it felt like to be a hero I replied.

“I am not a hero, the bank robbery went so fast I had no time to think, it just happened. The rustlers didn’t have guns, I did. I see nothing heroic in those actions.”

“If you want to know about real heroes read up on what our troops faced when landing on enemy beaches. Imagine hearing the machine gun bullets hitting the door, knowing that the door was about to open and let them in.

“Think about people who had survived the concentration camps and being prisoners of war, now those were heroes. They all knew what they were facing and kept going. I just reacted.”

That quieted the auditorium down. No one had expected this response.

I continued, “I didn’t mean to come across so grim but I learned a few things this past summer. I learned there are a lot of good people out there willing to help a stranger. I learned there are others who would take advantage of you, even family members.”

“But most of all I had a lot of fun. You think the rides at Indian Lake Amusement Park are fun. Try getting on the back of an eighteen hundred pound Brahma bull and going for a ride.  You want to know about work, be a roughneck on an oil rig. Every boy ought to do it for a week. It will show you what hard work really is.”

“Being an actor is not what you think it is, they work very hard to make everything appear easy. They have more patience than I ever will. I saw Mr. John Wayne repeat the same lines twenty-seven times, and he had the same strength and conviction every time. By the way, Elvis can’t memorize a script worth a darn.” This brought the house down with laughter.

I then told my fellow students about how my singing career was already over. That Paul Anka, Brian Wilson, and I all agreed that my voice wasn’t really strong enough to sing most songs. Rock and Roll Cowboy would be an onetime event.

Since Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys had been my backup I would have to start a new band. This would take time and money and wasn’t worth the effort.

I then concluded, “However, any cute girl that wants to date a rock and roll star see me after school.”

This was intended as humor and I saw all the boys laughing and nudging each other. The girls were strangely quiet.

Now the time was up, Mr. Gordon thanked me, and asked the whole student body and teachers if we now could get back to work.

As I was leaving I saw Mr. Weaver at the back of the room taking notes. He waved to me to stop as I was leaving.

“Rick that was a pretty strong speech you made about not being a hero. I had the impression that you were talking about specific people.”

I thought for a moment. “Investigate Bill Samson’s war record. Since he can’t speak for himself anymore maybe you can. The other story isn’t mine to tell.”

From behind me, I heard.

“George it is my story and maybe it is time for me to tell it,” Mr. Hurley said softly.  I looked at both of them and left.

Chapter 17

As the day went on I found out I had friends I never knew. I was polite to everyone but remembered something a slightly drunk Elvis had told me at the Coronado Del Rey.

“Kid they are all sincere. They all want just a little piece of you. You give enough little pieces away there won’t be any you left.”

So I was polite to everyone but kept them at arm’s length. If they still wanted to be friends in several weeks we would see.

Coach Stone stopped me in the hall.

“Rick I hear you could be interested in playing golf.”

“Coach, I have never played but I am looking for a sport. My body type doesn’t seem to fit for football, but Coach Crowley thought I might be a golfer.”

“Well, tall and lean makes you a human lever. Do you have any plans for this Saturday?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I have around with the country club pro out at the Bellefontaine Country Club on Saturday. Why don’t you meet me here at school at the front door at eight o’clock? We will loan you the equipment and see how it works on the practice tees. Our tee time is at nine-thirty so we will have enough time to see how it goes.”

“Okay Coach, I would like that.”

I also thought having an English mum who had tea all the time should help me, though for the life of me I didn’t see the connection between tea and golf.

I walked home with Tom and Bill, now that they had heard my whole story they were almost in awe of me. We had only met when I moved to this neighborhood, so they didn’t know what to make of me.

At dinner I told my parents about dropping out of football, and what Coach Crowley had recommended. They were okay with me meeting Coach Stone on Saturday. I asked what tea had to do with golf. After some confusion, I found out what a golf tee was.

I am glad I had asked my parents. It could have been really embarrassing on Saturday. Maybe my parents knew more than I thought.

Dad told me he had to work the third trick on Friday night, but that he would like to take me with him back to the old house on Saturday afternoon to see what had to be done to rent it out.

After dinner, I rode my bike to my scout meeting. I handed my merit badge card to Mr. Geist. He said he would turn it into the Council in Springfield, but it would be after the first of the year till we could hold the Eagle ceremony.

There were elections that night, and I was stepping down from Patrol Leader. I was now on the golf team and couldn’t make the meetings till November and I would even have to skip the camporee. No one got excited, in Scouts someone was always moving on, and others stepping up.

When I got home even Denny and Eddie hadn’t been fighting, so I knew we were all tired. It was an early night at the Jackson house.

After a good night’s sleep, my morning exercises, a brisk run, and a full breakfast, I felt like a new person. I took my shower. Even toweling my hair as dry as I could get it still got me, “You will catch your death if you go out with wet hair.”

I really had to figure something out. The shower was so easy and refreshing in the morning. It was a shame that the shower head was in the ceiling and pointed straight down. If I didn’t have to stand directly under it, I could wash up and not get my hair wet.

It was like a light bulb went on. Why were shower heads built into the ceiling, why not into the wall?

I thought about the shower construction as I walked to school. None of the other kids were walking this morning which was odd. Some would ride with their parents some days or be late, but neither Tom nor Bill was walking today. I saw Eleanor run out of her house and get in a car with an older boy, so much for those romantic hopes.

Since I was early to school I stopped into the shop and asked Mr. Donaldson why showers were made to just dump down on the person. He thought for a moment.

“I guess that is the way they have always made them. The first showers were just buckets with small holes in them which were suspended over the top of the tub. Why do you ask?”

“We have a shower at home and I have to get my hair wet every time I use the shower.”

“I bet your Mother tells you, you will catch your death going out with wet hair!”

“How did you know that?”

“It is what my Mother told me.”

“It must be in the Mother's handbook.”

“Remember when I was a kid, antibiotics weren’t available. You could die from a cold.”

“Wow, that’s hard to think of.”

“How long ago did you get your Polio shot?”

“I got the Salk shot in the fifth grade like everyone else. Then I took the Sabin sugar cube in the sixth.”

“Medicine has come a long way in the last few years. So don’t make fun of your Mother!”

“Yes Sir, now I better hurry, or I will be late for class.”

The school was kind of strange that day. Some kids were all over me, wanting to talk and hang around me. Others would turn their heads when I came into the classroom.

At lunch, I saw Tom and Bill sitting at our usual table. When I sat down they both got funny looks on their faces.

“What,” I asked, “Do I have a booger hanging?”

Tom spoke without raising his head, “My parents say you are too wild and I can’t do things with you anymore.”

I looked at Bill, he just nodded his head and said, “Me too.”

“Can I sit here?”

Tom replied, “I am supposed to leave when you show up.” At that, he and Bill took their trays and moved to another table.

I was in shock, I just ate my lunch and left. To this day I have no idea what I ate.

The other side of this coin showed up in my last study hall. One of the guys who we called a juvenile delinquent, Tom Hamilton said, “Hey Killer, do you want to go riding around with our group after the football game?”

“No Tom I have other plans, thanks anyway.”

“Anytime, we could use a tough guy like you when we go to Urbana.”

Urbana was the next town south of us, and there was a rivalry between the two towns at every level. This extended from the sports teams to the gangs.

We knew Tom and his friends were juvenile delinquents because they wore leather motorcycle jackets and wore their hair greased back in a DA, which stood for Ducks Ass, but we couldn’t say that.

They also smoked across the street from the school. They bragged they drank beer. The beer was three point two percent alcohol by weight. You could get drunk, but you had to drink a lot.

I didn’t want to be like them. I thought it was neat to wear a black cowboy hat, but not a black motorcycle cap with a short bill. I was happy to get home to my family that night.

My Dad asked the usual, “How did school go today?”

I almost gave the ritual, “Fine.”

Instead, I said, “Not so good.”

“Why?”

I then explained how good kids couldn’t associate with me, and the bad ones wanted me to go with them. Mum went through the roof when I told her I had been called, “Killer.”

Dad told me, “Rick this is one of those things that time will have to take care of.”

“How?”

“When you don’t get in trouble things will calm down and people’s attitude will change. Think about it, we know you are a good kid, but Tom and Bill’s parents haven’t known you for years. All they know is what they read in the paper.

You don’t come across as running from trouble when it comes to you. As a matter of fact, those poor rustlers were minding their own business doing what rustlers do until you jumped in. Now, how would you feel if you were a parent?”

“It’s not fair.”

“What has that got to do with anything?”

That stopped me cold. I could almost hear machine-gun bullets rattling off the door of that ship. Life wasn’t fair. I would do well to remember that and learn to live with it.

“You’re right, I will try not to get into trouble, that will bore the bad guys and maybe the good guys will be allowed to be near me.”

“Sorry son. That is the way it has to be. I could knock on their door and talk to them, but it wouldn’t change anything.”

I had a lot to think of before I fell asleep that night. Doing exciting things appeared to have some cost to them.

Chapter 18

Once I fell asleep it was sound and I was awake at my usual time. I cleaned up after doing my run and exercises. I was at the school front door five minutes early, but Coach Stone pulled up as I got there.

It was only a fifteen-minute drive to the Country Club. Once there we went into the Pro Shop, that’s what the sign said. Coach had me hold various clubs and finally settled on a set for me to rent for the day.

He paid seventy-five cents for me. From there we went to the driving range. He handed me a tee and showed me how to tee up in the tee box. Thank you, Mum, for explaining the difference between tea and tee. I would have been so mortified I never could have come back.

Coach took me through what he called the mechanics of the swing. He explained I didn’t have to get under the ball. That was why the clubface was slanted. He explained how a swing must be repetitive and smooth.

He showed me how power was achieved by rotating the hips into the swing as the arms came down and turning the wrist through the swing. He explained how follow-through was important.

He had me do several practice swings without a ball. Next, he showed me how to tee one the proper height. Then he told me to take a swing without thinking of all the things he just told me.

Of course, I thought about them as I slowly did my backswing. When I started moving forward it happened too quickly to think about. The ball went straight but it just barely made it past the two hundred yard sign. I would have to really work to get it out to the three hundred yard sign.

Coach just said, “Do it again.”

I must have hit twenty balls, they all cleared two hundred yards but none of them made three hundred. I figured Coach was going to tell me I had no future in golf. I turned around and realized that there were over a dozen adults standing there.

I asked Coach, “Do you think I might be able to make the team?”

For some reason, everyone started laughing.

One guy said, “The question is kid, when are you going to turn pro?”

That’s when I realized I must have found my sport.

Coach Stone let me know in no uncertain terms the fact I could drive was wonderful. However, I needed to take to heart the old pro golf saying. You drive for show, you putt for dough.

We went over to the practice green and he gave me a demonstration of how the slightest hill or depression in the green could change the path of the ball. He called it “reading the green”. It was a combination of visualizing the path of the ball, and what speed was needed to follow that path.

Putting was harder than driving.  As soon as my ball was fifteen feet or more from the hole I would miss some. Coach didn’t get on me about it so I guess it wasn’t a total disaster.

Finally, Coach slowly said, “I have seen enough, let’s now play an eighteen-hole round and see how you do.”

The club pro joined us. They both worked with me on what club to use and why. The course had a par of seventy-two. Mr. Collins the club pro had a seventy-six, Coach a seventy-seven and I had an eighty-two. My problem was that the ball would fly over the green on par threes. I had to keep using higher number irons.

By this time I understood that I was doing pretty well for a first-time golfer.

When I expressed this to Coach he replied, “More than pretty well, your timing is perfect. That is probably why you did so well bull riding.”

Coach continued, “There are many things you don’t know about the game, as the rules for one. Are you interested in going out for the team?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Good because our fourth man is moving, his dad has taken a job in Lima at the tank factory. We will have to get you some accelerated lessons. State rules are that I can only work with students for so many hours during the season.”

“Can Mr. Collins work with me?”

“Yes he can, but he is a Golf Professional, that means he gets paid for teaching.”

“Mr. Collins, how much do you charge?”

“It would be five dollars a lesson. I can give you two lessons a week for the next six weeks so that would be sixty dollars plus forty dollars for a good set of clubs along with a bag and another ten dollars for shoes and balls. That is a lot of money for someone your age. Can your parents afford it? ”

“They can, but I will be paying for my own lessons. Do you want the money for the lessons all at once?”

“In advance, each month will do.”

I gave him twenty dollars for the rest of September.

“Since you are joining in the middle of the season Coach Stone will tell me what I should teach each week.”

We agreed on lessons back to back on Sunday morning starting at seven o’clock. This would fit in with Mr. Collins's other weekend appointments.  If the weather was too bad and we couldn’t use the outside we would go over the rules and things like golf etiquette. It seems golfers were very polite. I shook hands with Mr. Collins.

My coach was kind enough to drop me off at my house. He asked if Dad was at home. He had just got there. He and Dad had a private conversation, I don’t know what was said but Dad really encouraged me to play golf from then on. He even volunteered to drive me to the golf course when he could.

After lunch, Denny and Eddie kept their squabbling down to a dull roar and Mary only spilled her Kool-Aid once, Dad and I went to our old house on Detroit Street.

Twyla was outside so Dad talked to her for a while. She was ten years older than me and was newly married. She and Mum had become good friends while they lived next door. I think Mum helped her understand and put up with her husband who could be demanding and unthoughtful.

I knew this because on summer nights with all the windows open you could hear her explain this to him. The neighbor’s three houses, down probably heard it all.

He drove in the drag races and that was all he talked about. Anyway, after Dad made nice for a while we opened the old house up. After living there for years it really seemed strange. It also felt lonely sitting empty.

I had never noticed how beat up the walls were. The house had been built in 1890 so it had aged. Every wall had been papered. When seeing it empty you could see every smudge and smear. One thing I noticed was that in several rooms in the corners the paper was torn.

I realized that the paper didn’t fit squarely with each corner. It made a curve around the corner. Not much, but someone had taken their finger and broke the paper at the curve. Hey, what else do you have to do while you are spending time standing in the corner?

Dad had the grace not to point this out to me. He did observe that all the paper would have to be replaced. We would have to steam the old paper off and then repaper the room. We went through every room in the house. The rooms were all smaller than I remembered. It was amazing that we all fit in that house.

The biggest expense was going to be taking the old coal-fired furnace out and replacing it with a new gas furnace. Also, the bathroom tub would have to be taken out, as the floor under it was showing signs of rot. I asked Dad if he planned to put a shower in the new bathroom.

“I haven’t given it a thought, why?”

“If you do, could we have the plumber install the showerhead coming out of the side of the wall instead of the ceiling?”

He asked me why I wanted that. I explained how nice the shower was but that I had to get my hair wet every time. Dad smiled and said, “My mom would always say I would catch my death.”

He wondered why I laughed so much at that.

He made notes and assigned me the chore of mowing the yard and neaten things up after my golf lesson on Sunday.

Sunday was another quiet day at our house. Dad drove me out for my first golf lessons.  The lessons went well. I practiced “chipping, plus pitching and running.”

After this Mr. Collins took me into the pro shop and helped “fit me” for a set of clubs. He told me this was my starter set and that I would probably own many sets of clubs in my playing days. Fitting was making certain that the clubs were the right length for my reach.

I ended up with a set of Wilson woods and irons. It didn’t include a sand wedge so I bought a McGregor. These along with the shoes, balls, and tees came to ninety dollars.

The pair of shoes felt really comfortable though it sounded and felt weird to walk around with the metal spikes hitting the floor. He told me never to wear them anywhere other than golfing or in the clubhouse.

Even I could figure out Mum would kill me if I tore up the carpeting. The new house had wall to wall carpets and she loved them. I liked them because they were soft and that I wouldn’t have to take them out in the spring, wrestle them over the clothesline and beat the dust out of them.

He gave me a tour of the clubhouse and the locker room. He showed me a locker I could use and loaned me a combination lock so I wouldn’t have to haul my equipment back and forth.

This was a standard procedure for the school golf team he explained. I asked how one joined the country club. He explained that you had to have a sponsor, voted on at a member's meeting, pay a two hundred dollar initiation fee, and fifty dollars a year dues.

I said, “Wow, you have to have a lot of money to play golf!”

“Money helps but you have to be known in the community to get voted in. They are a little snobbish. Since you will probably be on the golf team you will have a standing invitation to events. They have a monthly dance and the dining room is the best in Bellefontaine.”

“As long as I don’t have to pay for it,” I remarked.

“Oh no, it is free, as long as you are on the team, and only in season.”

After that Mr. Collins took me home.

I had done all my school reading ahead so I just had to mow the lawn on Detroit Street and I was done for the day. I towed the push mower behind my bike to Detroit Street to do the yard. It was easy going downhill and a lot of work coming back up.

I spent the rest of the afternoon outside as the weather was still holding. I was reading one of the classics I had inherited from my Aunt Merle. I thought being sent to prison and ending up a galley slave was harsh for stealing a loaf of bread.

I was early to bed as the next week would start early on Monday. I wondered if anyone would speak to me at school.

Chapter 19

Monday started out clear, but it looked like it might rain later. I was able to do my exercises and get in my run. I wondered how much longer I could do this. It was still September and I should be able to run till Thanksgiving. That did make me think, how was I to practice golf all winter? I needed to talk to Mr. Collins about what could be done.

Again when I started out to school no one was there. I didn’t even see Eleanor. The best description of Monday is that I just went through the motions. At lunch, I didn’t want to cause problems or embarrassment, so I sat at a table by myself. Even the delinquent’s left me alone.

On the previous Friday, we had several exams. They were returned in class. I had straight A’s going, so something was working right. It was like I was invisible, last week everyone wanted to know me, now no one would speak to me.

They weren’t rude, they would say excuse me or thank you if I did something for them but it was like I didn’t exist. I was glad when school let out.

I boarded a school bus with the other members of the golf team. There were four of them, John Scott a senior, Gary Matthews a junior, Tim Green a junior, and Phil Thompson a sophomore. Phil was the boy that was moving. He was the fourth man. That was a polite way of saying he was the fourth-best golfer on the team.

The guys asked what my handicap was. I told them I had no idea since I had only played one round in my life. I explained that I had an eighty-two last Sunday at the country club playing with Coach Stone and Mr. Collins.

Phil actually was the one that got excited, “I am doing good to shoot a ninety-two out there. You will really help the team.”

Coach Stone was already at the club, we spent the day practicing our putting.

Later at dinner, I told my parents about my day’s experience. They had no answers other than to be patient. I did tell them that the guys on the golf team treated me well.

I started reading a new book that evening, it was some old guy talking about shadows on the wall and trying to decide, “What is truth.”

Actually, it was pretty interesting.

Tuesday was more of the same. Golf practice was more putting. I got the impression that Coach thought this was the most important part of the game.

Tuesday evening was better. Mr. Weaver stopped by the house to drop off a new story he had written. It was about how our family had changed and reacted to my summer vacation. He also wrote about the high school assembly where I explained that I wasn’t a hero, it was people like Bill Samson who landed on Omaha Beach who were the real heroes.

He was funny when describing my singing experience.  My down to earth interaction with people like Elvis and John Wayne impressed him, by the fact that I didn’t let it go to my head. Capturing the rustlers was what any red-blooded American boy would do if he didn’t realize the inherent dangers.

My family having the cookouts to answer all the questions impressed him to no end. He even described Mary answering the phone. About the only thing left out was Mum’s broom. I wonder why?

He presented us as an ordinary family thrown into some extraordinary events. Reading his logical presentation of events, I and my family hadn’t any choice in how we reacted. Needless to say, we all liked the story and told him that we would confirm everything he had written if asked.

He could have left out the part where none of the girls rushed the stage to date a rock and roll star.

Mr. Weaver then told us it was going to run in the Examiner on Thursday, they would build it up in Wednesday’s edition, to try to increase Thursday’s circulation. Thursday was the day all the weekend ad’s appeared. They were paid for ads on a sliding scale. The more papers they sold the more they were paid.

Wednesday was more of the same at school. I was glad to get it over with. Golf practice was more interesting because we spent time on the driving range. No one else could hit the ball past the two hundred and twenty-five-yard marker. I was now booming them out close to three hundred yards. Now I could understand why the adults were impressed last weekend.

Thursday was just another day of walking to school alone and having empty chairs next to me in the cafeteria. I tried not to think about it because I felt lonely, rejected, and just plain mad at it all.

I had taken to carrying a book with me all the time so I would appear to be busy. I was now reading about a guy who rode around thinking he was a knight and charging at windmills. What a loon.

Golf practice was fun that night as we got to actually play nine holes. I did better this time shooting a thirty-eight on the front nine. This was the best score. John Scott had a thirty-nine, while the others had a forty-one and forty-two.

I had thought they would resent me scoring better but they were all excited that we might beat our arch rival Urbana on Saturday. Phil’s last day was Friday so he wouldn’t be able to play.

We all wished Phil luck at his new school. We weren’t in the same league as the Lima schools so we didn’t know how well they played. His dad had brought a Lima paper home and it didn’t look like he would get to play anymore this year. We all made positive sounds about next year but the bigger the school the harder it was to make the first team.

Here at Bellefontaine, we could barely field one team, schools like Lima Public would have three or four. Private schools would have six or seven. That put us at a huge disadvantage in the District tournaments.

But as Coach said, “It doesn’t matter how many golfers you have, just as long as you’re better than the other guys.”

That sounded good, but the lessons on statistics, which we were covering in Algebra, said otherwise.

Thursday evening the newspaper came out with our family story. The phone started ringing again. This time after the first hour my parents allowed Mary to answer the phone and tell people, “No one is home, call back later please.”

That kid is going to have some strange telephone habits when she grows up.

I had finished the book on the Spanish guy in the study hall. I was getting so far ahead in my classes I had to slow down or I would have forgotten what that day’s lesson was on.

Now I was reading about a whaling ship with a crazy Captain. He was going to get them all killed, I just knew it. I fell asleep and dreamed of a huge white whale.

Friday morning came with me twisted in all my covers. I think I wrestled that whale half the night. Well, I was still there and he wasn’t so I must have won. I was still doing my daily exercises and run starting at six in the morning.

My showers were getting longer each day as my dreams were more vivid every night.

When I went out to walk to school Tom and Bill were waiting for me. Tom in his usual ivy league look and Bill in his blue jeans. Now what? Both of them were looking embarrassed but they were there.

“Hi, guys, what’s up?” I asked.

“We are allowed to walk, and have lunch with you again,” Tom almost whispered.

“That’s great guy’s, I really have missed seeing you.”

That broke the ice and we started the walk downhill to school.

“What changed your parent's mind?” I inquired.

Bill told me, “That article in the Examiner last night, my parents realized you weren’t the wild man they thought you were.”

“Yeah,” Tom added, “My dad was in the 101st Airborne, and he really liked the way you stepped up for true heroes in that assembly. Even though he said he wouldn’t be brave enough to get on the back of a Brahma bull.”

Several thoughts were flashing through my mind, Thank you, Mr. Weaver. The written word does have a lot of power, and people sure can reach wrong conclusions, if they don’t have all the facts, riding Brahma bulls isn’t so bad, now those rodeo clowns are the brave ones. I didn’t voice any of these, I just enjoyed the company of my friends.

Eleanor came out of her house just in time to walk in front of us. She was wearing a tight skirt. Bill changed the subject to football. “Look at that backfield in motion!”

I actually started to look around when it hit me what he really meant. I snickered and said, “I would like to sack the quarterback.”

That got both guys laughing and we enjoyed the view as we walked to school. By the time we got there, I wondered if I should go home and take another shower.

Chapter 20

Friday was a good day at school. We had several exams, but they all seemed easy. I think any exam is easy if you know the answers. At the end of the day, there was a pep rally for the football team. They had a good start to the year even without my being on the field.

Since it was an away game at Findley I didn’t go to the football game. The youth center was open as usual and I went there to just look around, and to see what was happening.

Eleanor Price was there and I about fell over when she came up to me. She got right to the point.

“Ricky, next week is the homecoming game and dance. Do you have a date?”

“No, I don’t,” I said cautiously.

“Janet Huber doesn’t have a date, and would say yes if you asked her.”

That is how I learned how the world of first dates worked for us. An intermediary that knew both parties would make the first overture. That way there would be no outright rejection. I could choose not to ask her, and she would not be publicly rejected. If I asked her I knew she would say yes unless it was some cruel trick.

Janet had been a classmate for year’s so I wasn’t worried about a cruel trick.

I told Eleanor, “I think I would like to ask her.”

“Oh good, she is sitting in the booth on the end.”

Now I had gone to school with Janet for years, but I guess I had never really looked at her for a while. My image was short and skinny with knobby knees. They really ought to send out updates to us guys on every girl.

Janet was now tall and thin and really filled out on top. Her hair was down to her shoulders and she had short bangs. The most important thing she was cute! Even though I knew this was supposed to be a sure thing I was still nervous walking over. Give me a Brahma bull any day.

I asked Janet if I could join her. She scooted over so I could sit next to her. The booth would hold six, three on each side. There were four other girls with her. Oh great, a public performance.

I figured just get it over with, “Janet, I don’t have a date for the homecoming dance, would you be interested in going?”

She opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind and gave me a simple, “Yes.”

I said, “Great, now what were you really going to say?”

“My friends dared me to tell you I had to wash my hair that night.”

“Oh if you did that you couldn’t go to the dance, you would catch your death.”

This got all the girls giggling. We then got into the mechanics of the date.

I would pick her up at her house on Friday before the game, we would go somewhere for dinner, then return home to change for the game, go to the game, return to her home so she could change for the dance. I could drop some clothes off at her house to save time on my changing.

Oh yes, buy a wrist corsage from the juniors, they were selling them to raise money for the Prom.

I don’t think General Patton had such logistic issues.

I was asked what I was going to wear.

“Is a tux required or is a suit okay for the dinner and dance?”

“A suit would be fine. What color is it?”

“Grey with gold edging.”

“You have a suit with gold edging?”

“It is the one I wore on American Bandstand, a modern cowboy suit.”

As luck would have it, the jukebox started playing, Rock and Roll Cowboy. I thought the girls were all going to have a cow the way they squealed.

I had a brainstorm. “For dinner would you like to go to the Country Club?”

“Are your parent's members?”

“No, I’m on the golf team and have membership privileges during the season.”

That I was on the golf team was news to everyone at the table. You could see my social status going up quickly.

“That would be wonderful.”

“I will ask my dad if he will drive us around, or we can take a taxi.”

“That would be good because my dad is on duty at the fire station that night. That reminds me, he wants to meet you before we go out.”

“Okay but he has known me since we were in the first grade.”

The girls promptly disabused me of prior knowledge. I was now an official date and had to be properly looked at, it was in the Dad's Handbook! I would have to ask my dad to borrow his copy.

We talked for a little while, I told them how my golfing career had just started and that my first match was tomorrow at Urbana. I then spent time asking the various girls questions about themselves.

I had watched Elvis and Tab Hunter get to know girls this way. They were successful until the boyfriends showed up. I kept a lookout of the corner of my eye to see if any boyfriends were charging my way. At least I had bail money on me.

None of that happened. We chatted for a while and then they all had to be going. I got Janet’s phone number and gave her mine. We agreed to stay in contact during the week.

On the way out I stopped at Eleanor Prices table and thanked her for the nudge.

She grinned and said, “All you kids need a kick start.”

Well, I already knew where I stood with her.

It was up the hill and home before curfew. I think I was beginning to worry my parents with this getting in early. I told them that I had asked Janet Huber to the homecoming dance, and could dad drive?

He told me he already was scheduled to work. I may have not mentioned this before but my Mum had never driven in her life, so that was not an option.

“I will call a taxi then.”

Dad brought up, “Rick you may want to call them early in the week, and get on their schedule because it’s probably a busy night for them.”

“Good thinking Dad, I will do it tomorrow afternoon.”

I was up at my normal time on Saturday and went through all my routines, now thoughts of Janet Huber were included in my morning routine. I was at the school at eight where a bus was waiting. Coach and the other team members all got there at about the same time. The bus first took us to the country club to collect our equipment then we continued south to Urbana.

We got to the Champaign County Country Club, called the 4C’s, by nine o’clock so we had plenty of time to hit the driving range and practice greens before our ten o’clock tee time.

Before we started the Coaches went over their list and matched players by handicaps since I didn’t have an official one I was the fourth rated on our team.

Coach Stone told Coach Yeager, “Bill, I don’t want you to think I’m sandbagging you. Rick doesn’t have a handicap but he is pretty good.”

“We will see shortly,” replied Coach Yeager.

We were split into two foursomes, the strongest players went first. The team Captains had stood facing each other. Coach Yeager threw a tee up in the air and it came down pointing to the Urbana Captain, so they had the honors, this meant they hit first. It also meant I would be the last player to hit, plenty of time to get nervous.

Except I didn’t get nervous, this wasn’t like a Brahma bull might throw me off and stomp me to death, it was only a game.

The first foursome got off okay with everyone staying in the fairway and hitting at least two hundred yards. When they had moved up enough it was my group's turn. Bob Turner the Urbana player ripped one almost two hundred and fifty yards. Tim Green from our team groaned as he was playing him directly.

Despite groaning Tim let one go straight up the middle for two hundred and twenty yards. That left both of the first two in the perfect position to hit around the slight dogleg to the right. Then Urbana player Jim Unger was up, he shanked it off the tee about fifty yards down the fairway to the right.

Now it was my turn. I tried to blank everything out and just prepare for the shot. When I made my swing I knew it was good. I followed through completely rather than trying to watch the ball. I think it was my best golf shot to date. It didn’t go three hundred yards, but it went every bit of two seventy drawing right into the center of the dogleg. I was now left with fifty yards to the green.

The first foursome was still on the green and one of them saw my ball come rolling up towards the green. Two of the players were waving their clubs back at me. I bet it was John Scott and Gary Matthews doing the waving.

After the other players had hit near the apron of the green, with poor Jim Unger hitting twice to get up with us, I had an easy pitch and run to the green. It went exactly as it should, the ball was in the air to the green, hit then released and rolled within three feet of the hole. When everyone was up on the green and in the hole but me, I was able to roll the ball into the center of the hole for a three, and my first competition birdie.

The entire day went like that. I was relaxed and joked around with Tim, as we played. We were all nice to Jim because we all knew we could have bad days.

As I played better he played worse. His coach talked to him trying to get him settled down. On the par seventy-four course, I got a seventy-nine. Jim got a ninety-seven. I not only won my match, everyone on our team had won as well. My score was the low player score of the day.

Chapter 21

My day hadn’t been perfect. I proved once again that sand traps were invented by the devil. They added seven strokes to my score. I knew what I would be practicing with Mr. Collins on Sunday. We finished the match and were on our way home by three o’clock arriving at the country club to drop off our equipment by four.

I was able to check with the reservation desk about dinner for two at six o’clock next Friday. This was the time Janet suggested. There wasn’t any problem. The lady there told me that it was a good thing I was doing it now because there were always a lot of requests for seating homecoming weekend.

I asked Coach if I could be dropped off by the bus at the cab company downtown, as I had to arrange a ride for next Fridays, homecoming.

He said, “Run in and take care of business, we will wait five minutes for you.”

Coach was smiling on the way home. We had actually won all of our individual matches to clean Urbana’s clock. This had not happened since 1949.

We stopped at the taxi company, and I explained that I needed several rides for homecoming. Pick me up, and then my date at her home. Then go to the country club. Pick us up at the country club take us to her house, wait while we changed then take us to the game. Pick us up after the game and go to her house to change and to the youth center for the dance. Then pick us up and take her home, lastly drop me off at my house!

The dispatcher John Sullivan said, “That makes me tired just hearing about it. I have a suggestion. All of that riding around will come to about twenty-five dollars. Why not rent a car and driver for the evening for forty dollars including tip? That way the car will always be ready and waiting for you.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Even better we have just purchased a new vehicle. It is called a stretch limousine or limo for short. You will be our first customer to ride in it. It will hold three couples.”

About that time the bus driver started honking his horn, so I went out and waved them on. I wanted to see this new car before I put my money down. It was shiny black, it gleamed, it had chrome everywhere and it was big. What was not to like. It was a Cadillac Coupe De Ville that had been modified or stretched out.”

Mr. Sullivan told me they had it a week and were anxious to get it out on the street in front of people. The homecoming was perfect. It might even become a tradition of kids taking limos to big events. I asked him why they had bought it.

He looked around and told me, “I don’t think we bought it, I think the boss won it in a card game from some big wig in Columbus.”

I agreed to take the car and driver for the evening and paid twenty dollars upfront, the rest would be due when they picked me up the night of the dance. I had another brainstorm. Since I just rented this, could you guys give me a free ride home now?

The redheaded Mr. Sullivan laughed and told me his shift was ending, wait five minutes while he wrote me a receipt, and turned things over to the night dispatcher, and he would give me a lift.

Getting home I intended to take a brief nap before dinner, but there was mail. The Conair Company had sent me a catalog. I immediately looked up industrial dryers. They had one very similar to the one I had seen at a gold mine out in California.

It was eleven dollars which I thought was really expensive but if it worked in drying my hair it would be worth it. I didn’t want to “Catch my death!”

They had an order form in the back. Nonbusiness payment could be by check or money order. I didn’t have a checking account and didn’t know what a money order was. I asked Dad, he explained about money orders. I could get a money order from our bank.

Mum was the guardian of the family checkbook, and I didn’t want to have to explain spending eleven dollars on a device to dry my hair. Mum was tight with a dollar and I didn’t think this would pass her need test. So I would have to go to the bank on Monday after school.

It had been quite a day. It was neat telling my parents about the golf match stroke by stroke, at least until Denny and Eddie started squabbling at the table. Dad made a light swat towards Denny when he wouldn’t shut up. Denny overreacted, jerked away, and managed to chip his tooth on the edge of the table. Mum got mad at Dad.

My parents were a contrast when they each got angry, fair-haired dad got very red in the face. Mum had jet black hair and is pale. When she gets really mad she gets paler, to the point, you could think vampire. I retreated to my room even skipping the rice pudding Mum had made for dessert.

When the noise died down I went back downstairs and called Janet Huber. She wanted to know all about my golf match. It felt good to tell her we had all won. I got to the main reason for my call. I told her about talking to the taxi company and ending up with a car and driver at our disposal for the evening.

She was ecstatic, but I opened up a can of worms when I told her it would hold three couples. That led to many questions about the limousine. Being the worldly person I am, I referred to it as the limo, as the conversation progressed. She adapted quickly.

She told me that she and a friend would be checking out this limo tomorrow. I was able to tell her our dinner reservations were confirmed at the country club. She told me to reconfirm for a party of six. I asked her who the others would be. She countered with orders to find out if my friends Tom and Bill had dates and let her know by noon tomorrow! What am I getting into?

That night I was reading a story about families who moved to California from the dustbowl of Oklahoma during the 1930s. It was a hard-working life but it seemed simpler and easier than mine.

Sunday morning after getting my exercises out of the way and cleaned up, I rode my bike the half-hour ride out to the country club. It didn’t take long because I could really roll down the hill on Sandusky Street. Coming back up would be different.

Coach Stone had talked to Mr. Collins about my problems with sand traps. After several hours of work, I no longer felt they were the work of the devil, just one of his lesser demons. Every time I hit one that was buried in damp sand it felt like I was going to send it a mile. Instead, they plopped nicely on the green.

I also learned to hate the way sand spread out when you hit the ball and would end up in your eyes, nose, and ears. I decided right then and there to quit hitting the ball into sand traps. I’m sure many other golfers made the same decision and failed as miserably as I have.

I stopped in at the restaurant front desk and told Kathy I would like to increase my party to six. That wasn’t a problem. The fact her name badge said, ‘Kathy’ is the only reason I knew her name. She asked how I would be paying for all the dinners. I told her cash after dinner.

She explained that the club host (me) was responsible for the check, and they weren’t set up to take cash. It would normally be billed to the member's account. Since I was a courtesy member I didn’t have an account.

This was all surprising to me. I thought it would be like a regular restaurant where you paid after the meal. She suggested I talk to Mr. Hastings the club manager.

She led me to his office and explained the situation. He was very helpful. He first congratulated me on the victory over Urbana. He had already called his counterpart at the 4C’s to rub it in.

He told me that a party of six with no alcohol could expect to spend about four dollars a person. If I could pay fifteen dollars upfront I could then pay the balance later. Fortunately, no tips were allowed in the restaurant, so the math would be simple.

At this point, I didn’t think I had any choice so I gave him the money and he wrote me a receipt. I asked him if something happened and we couldn’t make it what would happen. He told me that I would get a complete refund if not all of us made it to dinner I would be charged only for what was on the check.

As I was pedaling the long ride home I considered how lucky it was that I had stopped in today to make the reservations, it would have been an embarrassing disaster to have the payment question brought up after dinner. I could see this social stuff could get complicated and that I would have to check things out before committing in the future.

While I was on the subject of payment, I added it up and realized that I had spent almost two hundred and fifty dollars since school had started. I hoped that reward money from Texas came through before I was broke. I was so busy thinking about this that I hardly noticed the long bike ride uphill.

Chapter 22

When I got home I walked over to Tom and Bill’s, my legs were killing me from the ride. Their families were up and I was welcomed. At Tom’s we talked on his front porch, when I asked him if he had a date for homecoming he said, “No, but I would love to go with Tracy Gallagher.”

“Did she say no?”

“I haven’t asked her.”

“Oh, then she probably won’t go with you.”

“I know, I am a real Melvin when it comes to girls.”

“If you found out a girl would like to go with you, would you ask her?”

“Well yeah, I would ask her if she wasn’t a skag.”

“That’s what I needed to know.”

“Wait what’s going on?”

“I am just following orders from Janet Huber, my date for Homecoming.”

“Wow, you have a date with Janet, you lucky dog.”

At Bill’s house, it was different. I was invited in by his Mom. What a change from a week ago. I think she was trying to make up. When it was apparent that she wasn’t leaving I went ahead and asked Bill if he had a date for homecoming, but before he could open his mouth.

His Mom said, “No he hasn’t, is there some girl want him to ask her to go to the dance?”

There must be a Handbook for Girls.

“Not yet Ma’am, I was supposed to find out if he had a date. I think things are in progress.”

In the way of Mom’s and Mum’s everywhere she got the details out of me in short order. She thought it would be a nice evening if it could be brought together. Poor Bill just sat there.

After his mother had decided she had all the information available I was allowed to leave. After I was out the door I realized that Bill had never said a word.

After lunch, Dad and I went to the house on Detroit Street and worked for several hours. We managed to move the bathtub to take the rotten floorboards out. Now, Dad knew what he faced. He would buy the lumber to repair the floor and new linoleum. He intended to do it tomorrow, Monday, if he didn’t get a call to work.

We had moved the bathtub an inch at a time. Those cast iron tubs must have weighed three hundred pounds. It didn’t help that the clawed feet on the tub kept catching and hanging up on the rotten floorboards. While we were moving it I thought about putting a shower attachment on the tub. It would have to attach to the current faucet. It would go straight up for about four feet then have a curved neck so the showerhead would spray out at an angle instead of straight down on your head.

There were several issues to overcome. Now there would have to be the framework to hold a shower curtain around the whole tub, like at our new home, or there would be a mess.

Also, it was critical that the showerhead is aimed just right. I wondered if they made adjustable shower heads, I know the one at home wasn’t.

By the time we had finished, I got home just in time for a call from Janet, wanting to know why I hadn’t let her know yet about Tom and Bill’s date status. I had forgotten all about calling her.

I let her know that neither had a date but that Tom would really like to go with Tracy Gallagher, but didn’t have the nerve to ask her.

She thought for a minute and said, “That will work, I will call Tina who knows Tracy pretty well and find out if she would go with him.”

Now I know why men don’t have a chance.

I thought I had gotten off, from forgetting to let her know, about Tom and Bill’s availability. I quickly understood the old joke of, ‘You’re right, I’m wrong, I’m sorry dear.’  She wasn’t really a pain but it had gotten to the point that she had to make a lot happen in a short time to bring everything together. All I wanted to do was go to the homecoming dance.

She let me know that she and Nancy Sparks had gone to the taxi company and checked out the limo. They both thought it was really neat. I thought that I knew who Bill’s date would be.

Dinner was a lot calmer than last night and there didn’t seem to be any friction between Mum and Dad. Denny and Eddie both kept their mouths shut and ate. Mary was funny.

She offered to save one of her teeth from the tooth fairy, so he could replace his chipped tooth. It was so sincere that no one cracked a smile.

Mum wanted to know where we were on the homecoming dance. When she found out about Tom and Bill, she said she had better talk to their mothers and Janet’s. I swear Patton had it easier.

That night I finished up the story on the migrant workers during the depression. After finishing it, I realized that I had it pretty good. I dozed off thinking about getting a money order, checking out showerheads, doing whatever Janet required, and golf practice.

I had just about dropped off when I realized I had better get my suit down to my Uncle Gene’s dry cleaner tomorrow. Bell Cleaners was next to our bank, but it meant I had to come home tomorrow before going to the bank.

Cripes it struck me. I had golf practice after school. I wouldn’t be able to get to the dry cleaner or the bank. I would have to ask dad to do it. The easiest thing I had going was my school work.

Chapter 23

My mind was racing as soon as my alarm clock went off. My life was getting so complicated. There were so many details to handle, none of them hard, just so many. I literally raced through my morning exercises, running then showering. I had a busy day ahead. Dressing in my normal chino’s and cotton plaid long sleeve shirt I got ready for a busy day.

At breakfast, I bit the bullet.

“I need to get my suit dry cleaned and buy a money order, but I have golf practice. Could you do it for me, Dad?”

After taking a sip of his black coffee he replied, “I will have time, I have to go downtown and rent a steamer to peel a lot of the old wallpaper off the living room walls on Detroit Street. How much do you want the money order for?”

“Eleven dollars,” I said while looking at Mum out of the corner of my eye.

She was busy buttering toast, but she turned around quickly.

“What is the money order for?” she asked quietly.

“For an industrial dryer for my hair, I saw one at the gold mine in California. It will prevent me from catching my death.”

“Is it like the ones at the beauty parlor?”

“Oh no, it is handheld. At least the barrel is that the hot air comes out of. I didn’t get that close of a look at the mine, so I don’t know how big the heater and motor are. It gives the RPM of the motor and watts of the heater, but they really don’t mean anything to me. The total weight of the unit isn’t included.”

She surprised me with, “Well if it works it will be God sent around here.”

I didn’t push my luck on that subject any further. I had the money ready and gave it to dad. My suit was rolled up in a bag for him to take to my Uncle Gene’s Bell Cleaners.

“Thanks, Dad, this will help a lot.”

He smiled as he said, “We have to have you looking good for your first date.”

He just had to say that, Mum now followed up.

“I have talked to Janet’s Mum. Today the dates for Tom and Bill will be made ticky boo.”

At times Mum talked real funny I think she meant everything was coming together.

On our walk to school, Tom and Bill pressed me for what I knew about their dates for homecoming. I told them not to do anything until I heard from Janet.

Today noticeably was cooler than it had been, it was getting near the end of September and we were due for the first killing frost. We would have to start wearing coats to school soon.

I heard lots of “Go Bellefontaine” as I walked through the hall. They were directed at me! This was traditional whenever we beat our arch-rivals in Urbana. I suspect if our trash men could pick up garbage faster than theirs it would be, “Go Bellefontaine.” Still, it was neat.

Janet looking fine in a navy blue skirt and white blouse cornered me on the way into the cafeteria for lunch.

“Ricky, tell Tom to ask Tracy, and Bill to ask Nancy to homecoming and dinner. They will both say yes.”

I walked over to the two guys and gave them their marching orders. Tom got an enormous smile, Bill looked worried.

Just then Janet came walking up with Tracy and Nancy. The two girls standing side by side looked like Mutt and Jeff. They were both good looking.

Tracy was tall, maybe five foot eight inches and slender with brunette hair and brown eyes. Nancy was considerably shorter, a little over five feet tall, blonde with blue eyes and a fair complexion. She was built like you wouldn’t believe it.

Tom who was several inches taller than Tracy couldn’t ask her out fast enough knowing that she would say yes. Bill stuttered at the much shorter Nancy but did manage to ask her out.

Both girls seemed to appreciate the pressure the boys were under and responded with a simple, “I would love to go with you.”

The girls had their lunch trays with them and joined us.

They started going over the details with the two guys. I thought I knew all the arrangements. That was when I found out all the women had been talking back and forth. That meant nine females; the girls and all our mothers were in on this operation.

Tom and Bill were informed they had to wear suits to dinner, bring a change for the game, and then back to suits for the dance. All the changes would be at Janet’s house. Also, the mom’s would be meeting at Janet’s for pictures.

After the general order of suits and changes for the game; the color of suits, ties, shoes for dinner, and dance were discussed. After several hesitant starts, Bill confessed he did not know how to tie a necktie. I volunteered to tie his tie around my neck in a Windsor knot that could be loosened and slipped over his head.

That would make for a quick change from dinner to the game to dance. I had learned to tie a Windsor knot at church of all places. I was taken by a neighbor as our family wasn’t church-going. One of the men saw my sloppy four in hand knot and taught me how to tie a Windsor.

After describing his ties, which were clip on’s Tom was told to go to Wolfeins and get Henry’s help in selecting a narrow Vic Damone tie, preferably in blue.

The one really good thing that came out was that the costs would be split between us three guys. That meant my share of the limo would be thirteen dollars. I would only be on the hook for two dinners, a corsage, and tickets to the game and dance.

The corsage was only two bucks, the game a buck fifty, and the dance two dollars. My share would be about twenty-five dollars for the whole night. That still was almost half as much as a grown man-made in a week.

My friend’s moms had taken their suits to the dry cleaners and had ordered their corsages. I just had to order a corsage. Janet and I stopped at the junior class table outside the cafeteria after lunch and took care of that.

The one that she liked had pink baby roses; she thought it would go well with her cream-colored dress and my grey suit. The girls had decided they didn’t need to wear hats and gloves to the dinner or the dance.

Now, all we guys had to do was formally meet the parents of our dates. At lunch, we were told it would be after dinner this evening, each of us was to go to the respective girl's house and meet the parents, and don’t worry the dad’s bark was worse than their bite. Our parents would be driving us over. I think I said it before, guys didn’t have a chance.

I wondered if, after the dance, Janet would now be my girlfriend. I’m not quite certain what being a boyfriend would mean. I know it might get me a chance to get her alone and kiss her, but what a boyfriend’s other duties were, was a mystery.

I was keeping one or two chapters ahead of each class and was now completing most of my future homework during the class. What I didn’t get done there such as essays I was able to finish in the study hall. I found some of the subjects so interesting that I was doing ten and fifteen handwritten pages when three would do.

One problem of all the writing was ink pen leaks. I had several Shaffer pens and they would all leak after I put them in my shirt pocket. I gave up and just would wear the shirt with a blotch on it. Mum hated it but refused to buy new shirts when these shirts still fit and didn’t show any wear except for a little mark.

I was hoping for new shirts at Christmas. Turns out I was like Mum, I hated to waste money when I had these perfectly fine shirts except for a little blotch. Maybe I should start using a pocket protector like the geeks.

There still was time to read books from my inherited collection. I had just finished one about a huge plantation before and during the civil war.

I thought it was so neat when he said, “Frankly, I don’t give a damn.”

If I tried that I would be in so much trouble.

Chapter 24

The golf lessons after school were fun, Coach put a bushel basket in the center of a practice green, and we had to try to put the ball in the basket from fifty yards. I did the best of the golf team making one out of four but thought I could do better with practice. Even the ones I missed stayed within a few feet of the basket.

At dinner that night I had to relate the events of the day that involved dating to Mum. She expressed her opinion that things appeared to be under control, but that no doubt there would be a snafu. I asked what a snafu was; she blushed and just said it means things will go wrong. Somehow I think there was more to it than that. I would ask Dad later.

Dad ignored that conversation and showed interest in my schoolwork, but I had been bringing home the A’s from my exams, so they were mild questions, not the inquisition.

Mum was satisfied with my answers, and Dad had dropped my suit off at the dry cleaners, so all was on schedule. Dad had also stopped at the bank and picked up a money order for me. I immediately placed it along with the order form into an addressed stamped envelope and it was ready to go.

We had to drive by the post office on the way to Janet’s house so I was able to put it into the new drive-through mailbox.

On the way, Dad asked me if I was nervous. I told him I was a little. He laughed and told me he was scared to death when he had to meet Mum’s dad. His full name was Ernest Thomas Smyth Butler. He had been a Regimental Sargent Major in the British Army during World War I. Dad told me that granddad Ernie was probably the hardest man he had ever met. This was from a man that had been through the Battle of the Bulge.

I was brought to America when I was three in 1947 and hadn’t been back, so I didn’t know my English grandparents.

Dad’s talking was interesting enough to get me to Janet’s house without throwing up. I think that’s why he did it. When I went in, Mr. Huber was waiting. I remembered him as a nice friendly man. The person I met looked like he wanted to tear my head off.

Dad lent me moral support by waiting in the car, thanks, Dad.

Mr. Huber took me out to the kitchen for a Man to Man talk. When we got there all of a sudden he relaxed and was Mr. Huber I remembered, a smiling friendly man. What really got me was I now was taller than him.

He said, “Ricky I had orders to scare you to death so you would treat my daughter with respect. You will, won’t you?”

“Yes sir,” I replied.

“Good, now that is over tell me about beating Urbana in golf.”

I described the match as best as I could. He then said, okay let’s join the women, and please try to look a little frightened. Maybe hang your head down till you get out the door. I did and was glad to escape.

When dad asked, I told him how it went.

He snorted and said, “Just be glad you weren’t any older or he would have been cleaning a gun while he talked to you.”

I wondered if I would ever be issued a handbook on life, it sure would help.

I cheated on my reading that night; I reread an old favorite, “A Study in Scarlet.”

Tuesday I woke up to a downpour, it was the nasty cold fall type of rain. There would be no running today. Dad hadn’t been called to work for several days, so he loaded us, kids, into the car, and drove us to school. Having an attached garage was really neat that day. The garage on Detroit Street wasn’t attached and was so stuffed with junk you couldn’t park a car in it anyway. We would have drowned getting to the car.

Thinking about that garage made me wonder, there was a stout workbench there, were we going to leave it? I asked Dad during the drive and he told me he intended to move it to our new garage. There was plenty of room in the garage as we had only one car.

He was just waiting for the time and a nice day for him and Uncle Jim to move it. My Dad has four living brothers all local, Ross, Gene, Jim, and Wally. Dad fell between Ross and Gene. Jim and Wally were half-brothers. This gives me a lot of cousins but I’m the oldest, so I don’t have a lot to do with them.

At school, the place smelled of damp wool as the radiators heated up and dried all the wet coats. It was cool now but would be roasting before the day was over. Mr. Harper the school janitor continuously mopped the floor, as we brought mud in.  He normally wasn’t the most cheerful person; today he wore a large frown.

Since they couldn’t wait outside today, sneaking a smoke or just talking, students were milling around in the halls. Fortunately, I was large enough to push my way through to my locker. Some of the smaller freshmen just seemed to push in place getting nowhere.

I took pity on a classmate, Linda Harvey, and helped her and two friends through the crowd at the door. A quick, “thanks” and we separated.

Homeroom was full early and noisy. My homeroom teacher, Mr. Watkins stood by the door and watched the class while also doing hall monitoring. Pretty soon announcements came over the school PA; among these, no golf practice today. After the announcements, we all stood for the pledge and prayer.

The bell rang and it was time to go to our first class. I was caught up as usual on all my work, so I spent time keeping ahead. The day seemed to take forever; I think it had to do with the rooms getting warmer all day long. Those radiators kept putting out the heat. After lunch, everyone appeared sleepy, even our teachers!

By the time school was out it had stopped raining, so I walked downtown with the intention of getting something to eat at Don’s Hamburgers. It was a general hangout for kids after school who could afford it.

Only freshmen and up were seen there, and this was my first visit. I wanted to see how the elite of Bellefontaine lived. Somehow I don’t think John Wayne or Elvis would be overwhelmed by the ambiance.

The busiest intersection in town was Main and Sandusky, US 33 and US 68 meet there. If you were passing through Bellefontaine you used these roads. Travelers didn’t know how dangerous crossing this intersection could be. When I was the paperboy on this route I saw near misses several times a week.

I was waiting for the traffic light to change. This is about the only light in town that people waited for before crossing. I watched as a long-distance truck slid through a red light; he was coming down Sandusky Street with its long hill, he applied his brakes, but the road was wet and he just slid into the intersection.

It collided with a southbound car and tore it up pretty bad. He had hit the front end and spun the car around so it was now facing north. The engine compartment was open with the hood bent right over the roof of the car. Smoke was starting to curl out; a fire could start at any moment.

I ran over to the car to see if I could help. There were two people in the car. I later learned they were a married couple from Kenton, Ohio. They were John and Marge Sutton. That didn’t matter at the time.

He had hit the steering wheel pretty hard and she had broken the windshield with her head. They were both unconscious. As I was looking in the window I noticed that now flames were coming out of the engine.

In Scouts, we were taught not to move injured people if we could avoid it. This time moving them couldn’t be avoided. I got her out of the car, carrying her over to the library. The library was right at the corner and had a small lawn that was raised above the sidewalk level. I laid her in the grass and ran back for her husband.

By now the car was really starting to burn, but I was able to get him out of the car. Seat belts weren’t required and were only used on race cars, so I was able to get them both out of the car without any problems.

He was very heavy, so I put him in a fireman’s carry and got him away from the burning car. As I carried him I saw people just standing there like they didn’t know what to do.

By the time I got him to the library lawn, his wife was coming around. I looked back and the truck driver had gotten out of his truck and wasn’t moving away, he was too close to the flames so I led him to the others. He must be in shock because he went with me with no resistance. By this time other people had arrived. Dr. Costin’s office was across the street so he and his nurses had come out and were just starting to examine the Sutton’s.

Chapter 25

There was really nothing more for me to do, so I walked downtown with every intention of going to Don’s. I wondered if I would go into shock as I did after the Colorado bank robbery, but apparently only killing people did that to me.

Walking by Wingers Plumbing I had a thought and went in. I asked Mr. Winger at the counter if they carried adjustable showerheads. He didn’t know what I was talking about.

After I explained what I was looking for he pulled out catalogs from Moen and Delta. They didn’t have anything like that. All shower heads were made to send out a stream of water straight in front. What direction you aimed it when installing was where it went.

Mr. Winger laughed and said, “That sounds handy, you should invent one.”

I thanked him and left.

At Don’s there was one good thing, ‘Rock and Roll Cowboy’ had been removed from the jukebox, that thing had run its course.

I had a hamburger, fries and a coke. While I was eating at the counter several kids came in and talked about the big wreck downtown. Two people were hurt, but no one was dead. A car caught fire and burned completely.  Some guy ran into flames ten feet high and got the people out. The fire department had put the fire out, but traffic was a mess.

I thought about what those kids had said, there were no ten foot high flames when I carried the people out. If it got out that I did it, would I have to go through the hero-worship then shunning that occurred after my summer vacation. Neither the hero worship nor shunning was an experience I wanted to repeat.

There weren’t any of my classmates to talk to at Don’s. All the tables and booths were filled with juniors and seniors. Eleanor Price was there but didn’t say, “Hi”, I’m not even certain she had noticed me.

I went on home. I had already read my chapters ahead and worked the problems in the back of the book so I didn’t have much to do till dinner.

So I started to read another book, this one about the injustice of being wounded in World War I while being an ambulance driver. He makes many bad decisions and ends up alone. What a sad useless story with no point other than life isn’t always fair and war is bad. Bill Samson had taught me that lesson.

At dinner, Dad told Mum about a big wreck downtown. They were looking for the person who had pulled the passengers out of the burning car. He made it sound like fifteen-foot tall flames and a gas explosion. The hero had just walked away and they didn’t know who he was.

Now I had a decision to make, but I didn’t want to talk in front of Denny or Eddie, they would blab it all over their schools. After dinner as I helped with dishes, the other kids had moved to the TV so I let Mum and Dad know I was the one who pulled the people out of the car. I also told Dad the flames had just started and weren’t that strong, and the gas tank hadn’t blown up, at least while I was there.

They asked why I had left and I explained they were being cared for by professionals, so there was nothing to do. I explained that I had time to think about it and that my last brush with fame had some problems that I would prefer to avoid. They weren’t real happy but were willing to let it all go.

That lasted for all of about two minutes; then the doorbell rang. It was the police.

Dad answered the door and they asked if Richard Jackson was home. He called me to the door. They didn’t look like they were here to sell me a ticket to the policeman’s ball. When I identified myself, they asked if I was at the earlier scene of the accident. There wasn’t any way I could get out of this. Someone had recognized me and given them my name.

“Yes, I was.”

I had been told by Elvis and Tab in Mexico when dealing with the police to only answer their questions and don’t volunteer anything. I didn’t know if that only held with Mexican Police but I decided not to take any chances.

“We know you pulled the Suttons out of the vehicle.”

“I didn’t know their names.”

“Did you actually see the accident occur?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What happened?”

“The truck was trying to stop for the red light, but the road was so wet, he just slid into the intersection.”

“Did he appear to be speeding?”

“Not really, it looked like he had enough clear distance to stop if the roads weren’t wet.”

One of the policemen was taking notes as I was speaking.

“Why did you leave the scene?”

“I had helped all that I could; the team from Dr. Costin’s office was there, so there was nothing else I could do.”

“You certainly saved their lives. For your information, both will live. She has a lacerated scalp and is being kept under observation for a possible concussion. He has broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and definitely a concussion. They would never have gotten out before that fire if you hadn’t helped.”

“I’m glad I could.”

“You shouldn’t have left the scene, but since we have been so busy this has been our first chance to interview you, so there is no problem. If something like this ever happens again please stick around.”

The cop then relaxed his demeanor, “Rick you are a hero here, I know about your notoriety recently and can understand why you are trying to keep a low profile. However, the law is pretty sticky about leaving the scene, so please be careful in the future.”

“I will Officer Wilgus,” reading it off his name badge.

They thanked me for my time and turned to go. The officer whose name I had missed; started laughing.

“At least we got here and are done before George turned up this time. Half the time he beats us to the person.”

Reporter George Weaver had just pulled up. As he came up the walk Dad invited him in. He was now like a friend of the family.

“George took you long enough, there should be some coffee on.”

George said, “I have been at the hospital checking on the accident victims, a Sutton family from Kenton. The truck driver is being charged for going too fast for conditions. Can I have milk instead?”

This was all in one breath.

“So, you’ve heard about Rick’s latest?”

“Yep, you might have to keep that boy locked up at home.”

As this banter was going on we had moved to the kitchen and sat down. Mum got busy with the coffee for Dad; and milk for George. Apparently, I was on my own. As I was mixing a glass of Tang I asked, “How did they know it was me?”

“Ricky you have been going to Dr. Costin’s since you were five years old, how would they not know it was you.” There went the last thin chance of keeping things quiet. I patiently answered Mr. Weaver’s questions.

When he asked me how I knew what to do I gave credit to my Boy Scout training. It then came out, from a proud Mum that I had my first aid merit badge, and had completed my Eagle requirements and was just waiting for the award, which would be after the first of next year.

We talked about my leaving the scene. George thought for a moment.

“I will present the truth. The police knew you were the hero. They didn’t have time to talk to you so they interviewed you at home later.”

That was very interesting. What Mr. Weaver was going to write was absolutely correct, but far from the whole story. I wondered how many other things I heard and read were like that.

That night I couldn’t get into reading. I kept wondering about what I had read in my history books. Were they telling the truth, but not the whole story? I had read somewhere that the winners write the history books. This put a whole new perspective on what I was learning at school.

Chapter 26

Wednesday I had a preview of what school would be like when Tom and Bill said, “Hello Hero,” as I came out the door.

At least they were being nice about it. My recent experiences had taught me that everything wouldn’t be seen in a good light.

“Hi guys, all I did was to help get them out of their car before the fire spread. The fire was just starting and I was never in danger.”

Tom said, “How can you be so calm about that? I would have stood there too long wondering what I should do. I probably would’ve run into the library and called the fire department.”

Bill helpfully added, “I would’ve crapped in my pants.”

“Not a pleasant thought Bill,” I replied.

That started an argument between Tom and Bill halfway to school about when it was acceptable to crap your pants. Finally, they asked my opinion. I considered it for a minute and finally came out with, “I guess when there are no other options it is okay.”

They wanted examples. “Well if the guy has a gun and you don’t and he is pulling the trigger and your feet are set in cement so you can’t move, why the heck are we talking about this anyway? It’s just plain stupid!”

This high toned conversation got us to school.

Of course by the time I was in my homeroom the car had not only burned and exploded plus the library was half gone. There was even damage to the Kennedy Funeral Parlor across from the library. Before lunch, the exploding car would probably be launched high enough to be spotted by the radar station on Campbell’s hill.

The word had gone out that I was the one who pulled the people out of the car. I tried to explain to everyone who would listen that it wasn’t that big of a deal. The story just kept going around and around. It reached its peak at noon in the cafeteria.

People kept coming up to me asking questions about risking my life. I couldn’t take any more. I stood up on a table and got everyone's attention. I started talking before the teachers on duty could get to me.

Once I said the whole story was wrong they slowed down to see what I would say. I gave the story as it really occurred. The flames were just starting and I was never in danger.

Yes, they would’ve been in trouble if I hadn’t got them out. I wasn’t some superhero, just a guy that moved two people from point A to point B at the correct time. Now let it rest, please.

When I shut up silence reigned. I started to get down from the table then the applause started, it kept going and going. Then someone started chanting, “Go Bellefontaine.” Even the two teachers were clapping. I left my lunch and walked out the door, kids were touching me as I went by. I marched out the door and walked up the hill and went home. These people were crazy.

Mum wanted to know what I was doing home so early. I didn’t even know what to tell her, the world didn’t seem real. I just walked by her as the phone started ringing.

Mary was in the front room and saw me, “Oh good Rick, you’re just in time for tea.” She had a tea party set up with her dolls. I spent the rest of the afternoon at the party.

Dad got home at about three o’clock, I could hear him and Mum talking in the kitchen. Mary was tired of playing tea party so she told us the royal audience was over we commoners could now leave.

Not wanting to be thrown into a royal dungeon I bowed to her Majesty and took my leave. Mum really has to quit reading the stories in that magazine to Mary. Some are fact and some are fiction, I can see the future Queen on the phone now, “Off with their heads!”

Dad was waiting in the kitchen. He gestured that I should sit down. Mum was nowhere around.

“Rick I hear it was rough for you at school today.”

“It was Dad, they don’t see the real me, they keep making things greater and better than they are.”

“That happens, Rick, it is human nature. You are learning one of the hard lessons of fame. So far you haven’t bought into it and I can’t tell you how happy I’m for that. Let me ask you a question.”

“Okay.”

“Is John Wayne the greatest cowboy that ever lived?”

“Of course he...no he is an actor that plays cowboys.”

“Did Mr. Wayne come across to you as someone who believed he was a great cowboy?”

“No, he was just a nice guy who was doing his job.”

“But many people want to believe he is a great cowboy, the embodiment of the American dream of the west. He has learned to separate what people think he is, from what he really is. If anything that is what makes him great.”

“You haven’t come to terms with that. It sounds like you are scared to death that you have to be what people think you are, rather than the person you really are.”

“Dad you have no idea what it’s like when people are chanting like you are some God or something. I wanted to smile and wave and let my subjects bow down. But that would be a fraud; I am just Ricky Jackson, a kid from Bellefontaine, that’s all I really want to be.”

“And that is all that you should be, however you have to realize that you have done some special things, things that most people will never have a chance to do in their life. They look at you as living their dream. Just don’t believe for one moment that you are their dream.”

“Then what should I do?”

“Be yourself, when people applaud like they did today or chant, ‘Go Bellefontaine’ just remember they are voicing their dreams and don’t let it affect yours. Take it in stride, don’t expect it; don’t reject it, just go on being Ricky. As you have already seen you can be a hero one day and a bum the next in the public eye.”

“Again, what should I do?”

“Damned if I know Rick, it’s your problem to sort out, not mine.”

My mouth dropped open, this was my dad; he wasn’t going to help me. Then I closed my mouth, he wasn’t going to help me because he couldn’t, I had to learn how to handle this myself.

“Thanks, dad, if I hurry I can still make golf practice.”

“Mum and I have talked to school; they don’t expect you until tomorrow. Mr. Gordon understands that the last two days have been hard for you. Tom is bringing your assignments.”

“Thanks, Dad, I think I am going to read until dinner time.”

Even that plan didn’t work out. Denny and Eddie had just got home from school. They pestered me to shoot some baskets with them. It turned out to be fun. They were both better shots than me. I just never cared for the sport. Eddie was the real surprise. He was now taller than Denny. For his age, he was quite tall.

We played horse until dinner time. For some reason, I felt better when we were done. I had forgotten about everything except trying to beat those two little monsters at the game. They kept calling me bad eyes when I would miss a shot. Insult to injury I was first out every game. No chance of me being a superhero here.

Dinner was like nothing had happened. The two boys hadn’t been told of my leaving school. They hadn’t even been told about me pulling the people out of their car. Queen Mary designed us with her presence. I know she did because that is what she told us.

Mum had got some magazines mailed from England that had news of the royal family. She had read it out loud to Mary and I guess Mary crowned herself. No messing around like a Princess she went right for the top job.

The Bellefontaine Examiner had the correct information about the wreck. Mr. Weaver wrote that I was trained by the Scouts on what to do, and I had done it. No big deal. He didn’t say that, but that was how he wrote it.

Tom had dropped my school assignments off, but it turned out I had already done them. They were all problems and questions from the end of the chapter. That guy at Berkeley was right on.

My reading that night had a difficult language but it was a hoot. Back in the seventeenth century Tom Jones had quite a life of his own it was certainly more interesting than mine.

Chapter 27

Tom and Bill were waiting as usual Thursday morning. It was a cool but clear day so I had done my morning run. The conversation today was about Elvis being in the Army; Tom had a picture of him as they cut his hair. We wondered if they saved it, or just swept it away.

Bill figured some barber saved it and was selling it. From there it was, well he could sell all the hair cut that day or any day and say it was Elvis’. Tom said, “I can just see him selling a bag of blonde hair or better yet red hair, as Elvis’s.”

The way we talked you would have thought we were teenagers.

Waiting at the front door at school was Janet. She wanted to make sure everything was okay for the dance. I thought that was a little odd. She didn’t ask how I was. She just wanted to know if everything was still on for the dance. Of course, it was.

Once she heard that it was, “Great, C’ya.”

No one said anything about my speech in the cafeteria or how I left school. At the same time, I got a lot of good mornings. I felt so much better today than yesterday. Being treated like I was normal was much better than being some fake hero.

Classes went well except the teachers gave us an early homecoming present. They knew that homecoming day wasn’t the day to give tests, so they all gave them today! What a present.

Golf practice was fun. We did the front nine, and I did some things right and got a thirty-two. Coach told me the course record was sixty-four so if I kept it up for nine more holes I would have tied it.

After practice, I stopped at the restaurant and confirmed that my reservations were still correct. They were. Kathy got me good. She asked me if I was so nervous about things because I was going to pop the big question.

“What big question?”

“Propose to her.”

She burst out laughing.

“You should have seen the look on your face. I wish I had a picture.”

I was blushing and feeling pale at the same time. I swear my life flashed before my eyes.

Kathy grinned, “I was just teasing.”

I know but it was a shock.

“I won’t be fifteen not until next month.”

This took Kathy aback. You are fourteen? I thought you were seventeen going on eighteen. You are certainly big for your age.”

I just nodded, not knowing what else to do.

The fact that Kathy had even looked at me was astounding. She was an extremely attractive twenty-something. Way out of my class. I retreated from this minefield as quickly as I could. Anyway, the bus was almost ready to leave to take us back to school.

Dinner was cheerful. Mary had decided she would rather be a pony. Not have a pony, be a pony. She talked Denny and Eddie into taking rides, but took one look at me and said, “Some people are too big to ride ponies, they ride horses.”

I continued my nightly reading and finished the adventures of Tom Jones. Now there was a life.

School Friday was a complete waste as far as learning went. All the talk was of homecoming. The biggest issue was that the Captain of the football team, Tim Jefferson was black. The Captain of the team was always the homecoming King.

He would crown the homecoming Queen and then kiss her. This created all sorts of potential problems but the senior class elected Connie Hastings. Connie was the only black girl in the class.

That solved the racial issue nicely. It was politely ignored that Tim and Connie were first cousins. I always wondered later how their families felt about that.

Right after the second lunch period, there was a big pep rally. The team and Coaches were introduced and we were told how they were going to beat the Kenton Wildcats. Many cheers were led and we were dismissed for the day. I picked up the corsage from the junior class. They had set up in the cafeteria and from the number of corsages being picked up; they would have a very nice prom. Not that I was old enough to go.

There wasn’t golf practice that night, but we did have a match on Saturday, so Coach Stone asked us to not stay out too late on Friday because we played Sidney on Saturday. Luckily it was a home match for us, so we didn’t have to be at the course until nine o’clock for a ten o’clock tee off.

I was dressed for dinner just on time. My suit still fits me, just. It was tight in the shoulders and the pants cuff should have been let down. The pants weren’t embarrassingly short, but I would have to have the cuffs turned down if I tried to wear the suit again. When the limo pulled up I was about to walk out the door; when Mum reminded me of the corsage in the refrigerator.

“Thanks, Mum; that would have been a bad start to the evening.”

“I would’ve brought it with me.”

“Brought it with you? What’s going on Mum?”

“Sue Ellen and Belinda and I are going together to Janet’s house to take pictures. You didn’t think we would let our boys go on their first dates without pictures did you.”

Actually, pictures never entered my mind.

“Oh, then see you there.”

The limo gleamed it had been shined so much. There was discreet lettering on the driver’s door which said, “Maverick Taxi Service.” The driver who turned out to be John Sullivan was wearing an old fashion driver’s uniform with buttons, he even had the hat.

He jumped out and opened the door for me. This was going to be neat. I told him so.

Mr. Sullivan said, “This is our big night, our opportunity to show this thing off and make some money. Speaking of which, you still owe twenty dollars.”

I had the money ready. He had a receipt already made out so it was an easy exchange.

My parents took pictures of me by the limo. Neighbors were coming out to take a look. Tom and Bill, who only lived a few doors down walked over, all dressed and ready to go. They were both awed by the limo.

Our Mum’s were taking pictures of us and the limo; dads were checking the limo out. After a few minutes, Mr. Sullivan opened a back door for us and said, “Gentlemen your chariot awaits.”

We boys have pushed aside by the Mum’s who had to check out the interior of the car, they were followed by the Dad’s. After the proper amount of Ooh’s and Ah’s the guys were allowed to get in. I started to apologize to Mr. Sullivan and he laughed.

“This is exactly what we were hoping for.”

There was even a small refrigerator in the back. It was loaded with soda pop, but we didn’t have time to open any, and besides, we didn’t know if we had to pay separately. When we arrived at Janet’s house, Mr. Sullivan again jumped out and opened the doors. I asked him about the soft drinks and he told me they were free and to help ourselves.

We marched to the door and rang the doorbell. The door was opened by Mrs. Huber. She invited us all in while telling us how nice we looked. I guess we dress up pretty well. Tom had on a dark blue suit with a thin red stripe. Bill a dark brown suit with a light cross-check pattern in it.

Both their ties were the snazzy thin Vic Damone style. The singer sure had set a fashion trend. Even Frank Sinatra had followed his lead in the super skinny ties.

I went with the full western rig, the fancy suit fit for the Grand Ole Opry, boots, and black cowboy hat. I wore a bolo tie with a turquoise slide. This would be a sight to see for staid old Bellefontaine. We had also pre-staged our clothes for the football game; all of us had jeans, long sleeve shirts.

It was cool enough we also had a light jacket. I was wearing one of my silver western belt buckles with the jeans and would still have a hat and boots.

We only had to wait for the girls to get ready for about five minutes. Nancy’s mom told us that this was almost a record time for an event like this. I tried to picture what they were doing upstairs, but I couldn’t even begin to imagine. I got a vision of girls in garter belts and nothing else would come to me.

They came down the stairs together. I must say our dates were lovely. All wore beautiful dresses with crinoline underskirts which their moms had starched so they really stood out. I knew this because Mum would starch hers. There was a corsage presentation ceremony. Thank god I didn’t have to pin one on Janet, I just knew I would draw blood.

Then it was the pictures, us with our date, us as a group, and us with our mum’s, then us with our dates and our mum’s, and finally all of us as a group. The Kodak Brownies were clicking like crazy. I had spots before my eyes because of all the flashes going off. I kept looking at my watch because we were getting close to our dinner reservation. We finally broke free and went outside.

We were greeted by the sight of half the neighborhood looking the limo over. You would think they had never seen a car before. Of course, the limo set off a new round of picture taking, with all the various groups. There was the obligatory examination of the interior of the car. Finally, we were ready to go. Mr. Sullivan was all smiles as he held the car door for us.

As the girls got in the car you could hear all that starched crinoline crinkling. It sounded like a small rainstorm. The girls had all changed their minds and were wearing white gloves and a small pillbox like hats. They also had on silk stockings which renewed my vision of garter belts. The Sears catalog had given me an extensive education on garter belts.

The trip to the country club went quickly as the girls recounted the trials and tribulations of getting ready. Who knew that so many disasters lurked in the closet, on the makeup table, and in the curling iron?

We arrived at the country club only a few minutes late and our table was ready. Mum had coached me on such refinements as holding the chair for my date, putting my napkin on my lap and using the silverware from the outside in. Also, I wasn’t to slurp my soup or belch. I promised not to slurp; the belch would take its chances.

The waiter took our drink order. Of course, we all had soft drinks. I went with a Dr. Pepper to keep up the western theme. The rest had a Coke. I flinched at the drink prices, fifteen cents each! I wistfully thought of the free drinks in the limo but knew it would be gauche to bring them in. I loved the new words I was learning from all my reading.

Each of us was looking over the menu; Nancy mentioned they had lobster, and that she had never tried it. I told the group I had it in a restaurant in Philadelphia and that it could be so messy you had to wear a bib.

She looked down at her dress and changed her mind. Bill heaved a sigh of relief. There weren’t any dollars mentioned on the menu for lobster, just Market Price.

We all settled on some form of steak. I hadn’t eaten many in my life so I wasn’t familiar with things like filet mignon. I ordered a T-bone medium-rare. Luckily I found out that I liked it that way. As the meal progressed we talked about school but it quickly centered on my summer vacation. The other kids asked questions about the people I had met and the places I had been to.

It was so pleasant from this day I can’t tell you what I had for dessert. This was the first time I was able to have a normal conversation with kids my own age since I got home. It was wonderful.

Chapter 28

Other kids were here with their dates, as a couple or in groups, their parents must be members. During the course of the meal, kids would walk from table to table to say hello. Our table was treated the same as the others.

Well other than the fact that in every group one of the guys thought he was a genius by calling me, “Tex.” I took it in the fun it was meant. I think my companions got tired of it before I did.

I was in such a glow that when the check was brought, I told the guys that I’ve got this. I signed my name and away we went. The girls exchanged looks and my social status went up another click. I would pay Mr. Hastings what I owed the club in the morning.

Mr. Sullivan was waiting in the car at the entrance to the restaurant. He took us back to Janet’s house where we changed into jeans, shirts with light jackets. I was able to wear one of my belts with the large silver buckle. Everyone asked about that. I explained it was for the National Junior Championship in bull riding this year and that it was 100% silver. You could hear my status click up again.

The game was great; we beat Kenton in a close game 21-20. At half time the homecoming Queen was crowned and kissed. After the game, we headed back to Janet’s to change. Getting in the limo I mentioned to Mr. Sullivan that this was the only way to travel and that he would see me again.

He chuckled, “Not in this car, the cards went the wrong way last night. We were allowed to keep this commitment and then have to turn it over to the new owner. Easy come, easy go.”

“That’s tough!”

“I had this job for ten years; this is the way it is. We always end up ahead but sometimes the road gets bumpy. After tonight I suspect we will actually buy one.”

It was chaos at Janet’s house as we all changed back for the dance. Bill had managed to mess up the tie I had pre-tied for him, so I had to stand in front of a mirror and tie it, then slip it off and slip it over his head. Okay, so I pulled it a little tight, he lived.

We were only going to be a little late, which was okay as it was only ‘fashionably late’, according to the girls. I wish someone would explain that to my teachers.

The dance was okay. The youth center had been decorated for the occasion and every table had a centerpiece. Tom had a chance to shine here. His older brother told him about past dances, so Tom had paid extra and reserved us a table.

It was a table for eight and there were only six of us. Linda Harvey and her date Jason Robertson joined us. None of us really knew them, the only interaction I had with Linda was to help her get through a crowd at school. It turned out that Jason was visiting from Louisiana. It was a town I had never heard of. Monroe. He came with his dad on business with Mr. Harvey. He seemed nice enough, but I bet he had to shave twice a day.

There were more kids than seats, so other girls would leave their purses at our table when they danced. This allowed us to talk to a lot of people without having to walk all around. It was a good thing because Tom Humphrey and some of his pals were kicked out because they tried to take some other freshman’s table.

Janet and I danced a lot and had fun. While she allowed me to hold her close it was not too close, if you know what I mean. I guess I had secretly been hoping for more.

It was towards the end of the evening that she broke it to me.

“Ricky, I have had a lot of fun and really appreciate you being my date tonight. I have to let you know that I’m not ready for a boyfriend yet, and my parents won’t allow me to go on real dates until I’m sixteen.”

I’m proud to say I took it calmly, but was crushed and upset inside and was on a slow burn. As she accepted a dance with another boy I thought about it. I had taken her to the country club, I had rented a limo…. Oh wait, I did that, she didn’t ask for any of that. All she had wanted, was a date. Maybe I better slow down before I say something really stupid.

The more I thought about it as Janet danced was I hadn’t been hunting for a date to homecoming. It was suggested to me that Janet was available if asked. I hadn’t been looking for a girlfriend; I just started assuming she would be because I was taking her to dance.

Heck, I didn’t really know what having a girlfriend meant other than trying to neck. Another point to consider was her parents wouldn’t let her date until she was sixteen.

What was my parent’s position on when I could start dating?  Last summer I was given a lot of freedom, so maybe I was making some poor assumptions. I should talk to my parents before I make myself look foolish. In the meantime be nice to Janet, as she had done nothing wrong. Enjoy the evening for what it is, a dance, not a romance.

When the boy who I knew from gym class brought Janet back I smiled at both of them and asked, “Are you going to dance again, or do I get a turn?”

Janet gave me a curious look and said, “If you don’t mind I will dance with Roger one more time.”

“Okay, I will ask someone else.”

As a matter of fact, I danced with a dozen different girls during the evening and Janet danced with a bunch of different boys. We both were smiling and overly warm when the evening ended.

The limo took us back to Janet’s home; the girls were having a sleepover. So it was three couples that walked to the door. Tom and I got a good night kiss on the cheek from our dates. Nancy laid one on Bill, when they came up for air he told her, “I will call you tomorrow.”

Someone had a really good time!

John Sullivan drove us home and dropped us off at my house, Tom and Bill made their way home on foot. Each was carrying his bag of clothes. I chuckled; they looked like they were ready to go on the road, except they would be hitching in suits.

When I went into the house Mum was waiting up. She wanted to know all about the evening. I shared all of it with her including Janet’s comment about being too young for a boyfriend.

From her face, you could tell Mum was happy to hear that.

“Good, we have never really discussed when you could start dating for real. Sixteen when you have your driver’s license seems good. You can go to special group events like this, but no dates alone.”

Well, that took care of that I thought. Now it was either sneak around or wait. Since there was no one in sight to sneak with I guess no dates.

That night I read about a young farmer fighting stobor. That would be an adventure!

Chapter 29

At six the next morning my alarm went off as usual. After the exercises and morning run, I had what to Mum was real breakfast.  This was bacon and two eggs over easy, hash brown potatoes along with wheat toast and orange juice. I was ready for my golf match with Sidney!

I was at our meeting spot at the school front door at nine as Coach had requested. The bus was on time, so we arrived at the country club in short order. My first stop was to see Mr. Hasting’s. I asked how much I owed. It wasn’t too bad, nine fifty. I thanked him, and he said anytime.

If I wanted to come back again I would be allowed to sign now that they had an account set up. It had to be in the season though. I told him I doubted that would happen.

“I don’t know Rick; some of those girls were giving you the eye.”

I would love to quiz him on who they were, but I had to get ready to play.

Our team loosened up on the practice tees; then worked on putting to see how the greens would feel today. I was starting to appreciate how much the weather and time of day could influence a putt. This time Bellefontaine won the honors. I waited for John to tee up, everyone just stood there.

“Hey Rick, you were low man last week, you’re up first.”

Wow, from last in the line up to first in one week!

I sent it a country mile in the air, then it rolled and rolled. The ball had to have gone two hundred and seventy-five yards up the middle.

One of the guys from Sidney said, “It’s going to be a long day.”

Tim cracked, “Or a short one, depends on how you look at it.”

I set a course record of sixty-three. Tim lost his match but we won overall. Tim ended up having a long day as those sand trap demons got even with his smart remark.

When the scores were tallied the word went around the club like wildfire. Men I had never met were shaking my hand. Pictures were taken, golf balls signed. It was amazing.

I had never given it a thought about what would happen if I was good at this game. After everything else I had been through it was easy to bask in the attention without getting carried away.

I had just packed my clubs away when the inevitable happened. There stood George Weaver and a photographer.

George shook his head and said, “I told your parents they should keep you home.”

So now my picture would be in the Examiner again. At least I hadn’t killed anyone.

After George had asked questions like, “How does it feel to set a course record?”

Of course, my answer was Mr. Weaver, “It feels great but I couldn’t have done it without the training Coach Stone has provided and the support of my teammates.”

You could have knocked Mr. Weaver and Coach Stone over with a feather when I said that.

“Where did you learn to give answers like that,” Mr. Weaver inquired?

“How soon we forget. I have won three rodeos including a National title, plus have hung around with John Wayne and Elvis while they were interviewed,” I replied with a straight face.

Both Coach and Mr. Weaver looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Precocious,” said Coach.

“No that’s my sister Mary.”

At that, Mr. Weaver let out a great laugh, “That she is.”

“Does she play golf?” asked Coach.

“Not yet Coach, but any day now.”

After everything settled down and we had shaken hands with a demoralized Sidney team, we boarded the bus for the ride back to school.

On the way home I decided to have some fun. When Dad asked how the golf match went.

I replied, “our team won but I didn’t do as well as I hoped.”

“Well, there is always next week, unless they decide to drop you from the team.”

“Dad, I didn’t do that bad.”

“I know you scoundrel. George Weaver called and wanted to know how we felt about your setting a course record.”

Note to self; self you can’t do anything in this town without your parents finding out immediately.

I kicked around with Denny and Eddie for the rest of the afternoon. They were now passing a football back and forth. Both were better than me.

Dinner was spaghetti, a family favorite. Mary ended up red-faced. Not embarrassed, sauced! I shared that funny remark and was surprised at my parent’s silence.

Dad finally said, “When you said sauced I thought you meant drunk.”

“Oh no Dad, I meant sauce all over her face.”

“This is a good time to tell you, I have been going to AA for three months now and haven’t had a drop to drink.”

“Dad that is great, I’m happy for you and Mum”

It was awkward until Mum suggested a family game of Monopoly after dinner. We all played, Mary and me a team, Mum and Dad a team, with Denny and Eddie each on his own.

For a change no one threw a tantrum or the board, so we had a good time. Mary and I were the winners. I suspect it was because Mum and Dad seemed more interested in each other than the game.

Sunday I helped Dad with the Detroit Street house. It was almost ready to rent. He had steamed all the wallpaper off the living room walls. He counted fourteen different layers of paper in the last sixty years. He had to replace some of the laths and put up new plaster. I helped him paste on the last of the paper.

While he cleaned up the mess I used the push mower we had brought with us. Tapp Realty was ready to rent the house out; ads would run all next week in the Examiner.

In bed that night I reflected on the past week. It had been so busy with so much happening; I just hoped next week would be calmer.

That night I started a book about a Russian family during and after the Napoleonic Wars. It didn’t take me long to go to sleep.

Chapter 30

Monday, I crawled out of bed feeling a little groggy. Last week had been a busy week, and I didn’t feel rested even after a good night’s sleep. By the time I had performed my morning exercises and finished my run, I was ready for the day. Since the mornings were now cooler, Mum had switched breakfast over to porridge.

The round box said, “Quaker Oats, oatmeal.”

If Mum wanted it to be porridge it was porridge. No matter what you called it, it was warm and filling. Put enough brown sugar on it and it even tasted good.

As usual, Tom and Bill were coming down the walk as I came out the door. The conversation all the way was about the dinner and dance. Bill bragged about the way Nancy kissed him. He made some other comments about what they had done that hadn’t any relation to reality.

Tom and I both tried to tell him to tone it down. If he spread that sort of stuff the girls wouldn’t go out with him. Bill didn’t seem to get it, as his story just got bigger.

Classes were back to normal after the hectic homecoming week. While classes may have been back to normal the rumor mill was working overtime discussing who broke up over the weekend, and what new couples had emerged. The limo was considered the neatest item of the weekend. Already girls were talking about a limo for Prom.

What interested me; was that Janet was getting credit for dinner and the limo. She had managed her date well.

As far as I was concerned the best thing about all the conversation was that my name didn’t come up alone. Even when talking about the limo; Tom and Bill would get equal billing with me.

I got a few, “Go Bellefontaine’s” for beating Sidney in golf but nothing was said about a course record. That would appear in the Monday edition of the Examiner. There wasn’t a paper on Sunday, so the record wouldn’t be common knowledge until Tuesday.

Going from Algebra to Latin I met Janet in the hallway. She gave me a cheerful, “Hi,” but didn’t stop. I returned the greeting and kept moving. This established that we were now friends and nothing more.

Lunch was more of the same; one of the seniors did stop at our table.

“Hey guys, I saw you at the country club with your dates and then getting out of that limo at the dance. You are making it hard on us normal people.”

Since this was said with a smile, we took it as a compliment.

Bill had to add, “It was worth it for how the girls treated us,” he leered as he said it.

Tom and I just shook our heads.

Tom added, “Well, how some of us thought we were treated.”

When the senior left Bill took Tom to the task.

“I’m trying to build up the gang’s reputation. All the girls want to be with real men.”

Bill found out how much his reputation was built up immediately after lunch. As we left the school to take a walk a very irate Nancy Sparks caught up with us. She started to berate Bill for all the lies he was telling about her. Tom and I looked at each other and took off walking leaving Bill to his fate.

The golf practice was different. All the other guys could talk about was the course record. They had to replay every stroke. They did this while we practiced putting. Coach Stone had us putting more and more. He also would add in some little tricks, like how to hit the ball around a tree.

To do that he had us point the clubface where we wanted to hit the ball. We would then line our body up with where we wanted the ball to start. Then we would swing along our body line.

The ball would then curve around the tree and end up where we had aimed the clubface. The same principle would work to draw the ball right or fade it left around a dogleg. These were gentle curves, not a sharp turn.

The practice went well. Various members of the club stopped to congratulate me on the new record.  Doctor Costin was there, and after is, congratulations gave me an update on the Suttons.

They were expected to recover.

Dr. Costin surprised me, “I know that your club membership only extends for the school golf season, if you want to join the club I would be proud to sponsor you.”

I replied, “Thank you, Doctor, it’s kind of expensive, how old do you have to be?”

“Hmm, good question Rick. I don’t know and I’m on the Board of Directors. I will look into that.”

I had a small surprise when I got home. My industrial dryer had arrived. A special mail truck dropped it off at the house. I had never seen a one-dollar stamp on a package before. I understood why when I picked it up from the front step; it must have weighed forty pounds.

I took it into the garage and opened the package on the workbench, Dad and Uncle Jim had moved from the Detroit Street house. As I opened the package I realized that it wouldn’t work as I thought.

The motor and heater were in a unit that weighed thirty pounds. The handheld dryer portion was connected by a heavy rubber hose and weighed over ten pounds. That was just too much weight to handle comfortably.

I found an extension cord and plugged the dryer in. The air on the one-speed unit was too hot and too fast. I would either burn myself up or blow away. What a waste of money.

At dinner, I related how the unit wasn’t as I thought it would be.

My brother Denny asked, “Well if it is too hot and too much air, can’t you make a smaller one that works?”

“I don’t know, Denny.”

Dad spoke up, “What do you need to know to make it work?”

“How hot the air should be and how fast the air should blow. From that, I could determine what size of motor and heater I would need. From there I could tell if it could be made light enough to use.”

“There you go then.”

Mum spoke up, “You could ask Sharon Bailey about her hair dryers.”

Sharon Bailey owned a local hair salon.

Thanks, Mum, “I will do that after school one day soon.”

I continued my slog through the Russian novel that night. Before it was over I was cheering for Napoleon, though I knew he wouldn’t win.

At breakfast, I told Mum I would try to see Mrs. Bailey after golf practice today. Mum told me she would call her about expecting me with questions on her hairdryers.

Chapter 31

Tuesday at school, a minor topic was my setting a course record at the country club. Most of the kids could care less about golf and golfers.

As Tom Humphrey put it, “Since you can’t play a real man’s sport like football, I’m glad there is something you can do.”

I let that one go, ignoring Humphrey’s comment. During an earlier golf practice, Tim and Gary had talked about how the Ex-Mayor couldn’t find a sponsor to join the country club.

No one liked him since he had a street in front of a competitor's barbershop zoned no parking on both sides. This hurt the man’s business terribly.

Ex-Mayor Humphrey claimed there was too much traffic and that people were endangered by walking between cars to cross the street from one business to another. The warehouse across the street had been empty for the last twenty years, so that argument didn’t go down well.

Our class was given a paper to write in World History. It was to be ten pages long on any discussion question at the back of the next week’s chapter. There were all sorts of moans in class.

I had continued my habit of writing essays on every question in the back of each chapter. Since I was running a week ahead on these, I was able to pick and choose from two I had already done that actually exceeded the ten-page assignment.

Mr. MacMillan said we could turn them in as soon as they were completed. I couldn’t resist it. I turned my paper in at the end of the class. It was on why the Holy Roman Empire, wasn’t Holy, Roman, or an Empire.

Mr. MacMillan’s only comment, “I’ve heard about you.”

I wasn’t certain if that was good or bad.

Golf practice was playing the back nine. Coach gave me a physical handicap. I wasn’t allowed to use any numbered club lower than a five iron. He claimed I needed to work at different distances.

So instead of a driver and a nine iron to get to the green, I would use a five iron twice. I didn’t see how that would help. I made the mistake of saying that out loud. I was told that tomorrow it would be the six irons or higher, I would get used to odd distances!

Coach also passed out a sheet of paper with the dates of the Ohio State boy’s golf tournament. The first event, the Sectional was October 18-19, the District was October 25-26, and the State Championship October 31-November 1.

We would arrive on a Thursday night so we could get in a practice round on Friday before the tournament. I asked where they were being played.

“The Northwest section, Sectional matches are at Stone Ridge golf course at Bowling Green, Ohio, the District matches are held at the Red Hawk course in Findlay, and the championship at the Ohio State Scarlet and Gray course.”

“Will we drive back and forth to Bowling Green,” I asked?

“No, we will be staying in dorm rooms at BG University.”

“How much will that cost?”

“Rick, that was included in your golf fees for the year. We assumed you would play in the Sectional and charged you for it, after that if you move to District and State the school will pick it up.”

“I never paid any golf fees.”

“Oh, that’s right, Phil Thompson had, he moved and the fees are non-refundable. I have the money in my budget for the event so I never thought about billing you. Just consider yourself lucky this year.”

“Thanks, Coach Stone.”

After practice, I had the bus drop me off downtown on the way back to school. I stopped at Bailey’s Hair Salon. This is where Mum had her hair done, and she had called Mrs. Bailey that morning so she was expecting me.

The hairdryers she had were the sort that was on a pedestal. Ladies would sit under the dryer for thirty to sixty minutes depending on the amount of hair they had. I tried to read the metal plate on one to find out how many watts it was and the rpm of the motor. There was nothing helpful. She asked me if the supplier's catalog from Sunbeam might help. It at least referred to 300 watts but gave no idea of the motor speed.

I asked if I could look at the hairdryer a little closer. Mrs. Bailey allowed me to remove the cover. This was held in place by snap-on clips. Apparently, it had to be cleaned out frequently because of all the hair clippings.

I was able to get the Ametek motor model number from its serial plate. After replacing the cover and thanking Mrs. Bailey, she asked why I wanted all this information. I told her I was trying to figure out how to make a handheld unit.

“If you do I would love to buy one,” she replied.

“Me to,” replied a lady who had just got out from under another dryer. She continued, “Then I could do this at home.”

I quickly replied, “True but then you wouldn’t benefit from Mrs. Bailey's expert hairstyling.”

“Nice save Rick,” came dryly from Mrs. Bailey.

I got out of there as quickly as I could. I had been thinking, what if all beauty shops bought the dryers, now, what if all women bought a dryer?”

In my new-found enthusiasm, I walked around the corner to Bush Electric. They were not busy, so the counterman spent some time with me. I first asked if he could look up the rpm speed of an Ametek motor. With the model number, the counterman was able to look it up and tell me the flow rate which was less than half of the industrial dryer.

“What are you trying to do,” asked the counterman?

I explained that I was hunting for a motor that would deliver about this output of air, but weighed six ounces or less.

The counterman, ‘Tom,’ started to laugh at this request, but then stopped and reached for another catalog.

“There is a new series of motors put out by Philips a Dutch company; it has a different sort of magnet, ceramic I think. They are very small and lightweight. They are a whole heckuva lot more efficient than regular motors.

This Ametek motor puts out 300 watts of energy; the Phillips provides 1500 watts. That is all you can get from a normal house outlet. We haven’t sold any, but they may be what you are looking for.”

They were able to identify a motor that fulfilled the requirement very quickly. I placed an order; I also ordered a voltmeter and a small variac transformer. This came to twenty-two dollars and fifty-five cents.

I would be able to use the variac to change the speed of the motor which would change the air output. I then could experiment with the best airflow.

The voltmeter would be used to measure the resistance of the heating element. Again I could vary the heat using the variac transformer to change the voltage. Earning the Boy Scout electricity merit badge sure was coming in handy.

As an afterthought, I started to order a spool of copper wire.

“What are you going to use it for?” inquired Tom.

“I thought I could make a heating element.”

“You would be better off with a nichrome wire; it is a combination of nickel and chromium. It has higher resistance than copper, so it gives off more heat. Plus nichrome won’t corrode.”

“I will try that”

“It is kind of expensive, twelve cents per foot.”

“That’s okay I only need ten feet at the most.”

“I can give it to you now, or you can pick it up when the other stuff is in.”

“Later is fine, and thanks for your help Tom,” I replied.

“We will call you when it is in.”

“Thanks,” I replied as I was going out the door.

When I got home I wrote all the information I had gathered and the date in a hardback blank book, which I had bought at Guys Newsstand. Somewhere I had read that inventors needed to keep notebooks to prove they had done the work.

At dinner, I updated my parents on golf, school, and the hairdryer project. Both Mum and Dad had concerns about the safety of the device so they talked about things that might go wrong.

Some of them included overheating to the point of starting a fire or getting the outside so hot it burned someone. I would have to include some sort of heat shield around the heating element and fusing to break the circuit to prevent extreme overheating.

After dinner and helping with the dishes I updated the notebook with the safety concerns.

Later that night I started a new story about a woman who was forced to wear a letter on her grey woolen dress, she embroidered it turning a mark of shame into one of pride. I wondered if she was an Ohio State fan.

Today, October 1st, was a glorious fall day as I ran. I was up to five miles a day now and intended to keep it like that as long as the weather held. There had been a heavy frost so the leaves had turned. There was the smell of smoke in the air from the previous leaf burning.

I saw that Buckeyes had fallen from the tree in Mason's front yard. Because they were a nuisance to rake they didn’t care if people picked them up. As soon as I finished my run I rode my bike back to the Masons and collected a bagful of buckeyes. They would be used to make Christmas decorations.

Chapter 32

Most of my classes started the review for the exams held at the end of the six week grading period. They would review this week and until Wednesday of the following, taking the exams Thursday or Friday. I would review, but I could’ve taken and passed the exams that day.

This gave me time to work on a long-overdue project. During study hall after a quick review to ensure there was nothing I had overlooked I wrote thank you notes. It had been drilled into me by my Mum that people who did you a kindness deserved a Thank You.

I owed notes from my summer hitchhiking. I also included the George Weaver story in my summer and family. There certainly were enough extra copies provided by family and friends.

I wrote a note to the Whaley’s, the farm family that let me work for a few days in Illinois. They knew the least of all about my adventures and certainly would be surprised.

When I wrote Mr. Easterly in Colorado I also informed him that I had received the rodeo schedule for the next year.  I had decided I wasn’t going to follow the circuit or try to defend the championship. Time and money were the reasons. I was thinking of other things to do next summer and didn’t think I could win enough to pay for the whole rodeo venture anyway.

I also wrote John Wayne a longer note thanking him for all of his help in my “movie career”, Elvis with a little teasing, how Germany was a long way to bail him out, so behave, Brian Wilson for his making me a “Rock and Roll Star”, Paul Anka for reminding me not to quit my day job to be a Rock and Roll Star.

Special thanks went to Texas Ranger Walker for saving me from a potentially bad situation I had got myself into, and the Ewing family who let me stay at their ranch South Fork during the national rodeo.

I also sent a general letter to the producer, asking him to share with the cast, of the Spin and Marty portion of the Mickey Mouse Club, thanking all of them for letting me participate. I still had secret hopes about Annette, just like every other teenage boy in America.

After some consideration, I also wrote a brief letter to the National Rodeo Association telling them I wouldn’t be defending my title this year. While I was proud to win and had a lot of fun doing it, the joy of winning should go to those who had worked out of love of the sport for years.

I didn’t write it but thought that anyone who rode Brahma bulls for years had something fundamentally wrong with them.

After reading what I had written I was glad I was wearing boots, it was getting deep. It was also true. It took both my study halls to get the notes completed, but I was glad to be done. All I had to do now was address envelopes and mail them.

At golf practice, I found that Coach had a point about different distances. I tried to overcompensate using the shorter irons, in doing so found that you could only swing the golf club so hard and fast and maintain control. Besides the demons of the sand trap, I met the monsters of the rough.

Once I realized my error I went back to my easy swing and my game came right back.

Coach Stone just said, “That wasn’t the lesson I had intended but it was a good one.”

Denny, Eddie, and I again played horse with the basketball before dinner. Again they creamed me. Denny won this time but Eddie wasn’t far behind. While the game was going on little Mary was playing with the Hula Hoop. Dad was sitting on the steps watching all of the activity.

After I had a horse, while Denny and Eddie were at hor I sat with Dad. Mary had taken to throwing the Hula Hoop across the yard.

Dad told me, “We played with iron wagon wheel hoops when I was a kid, we could roll them down the road but they weighed too much to throw like that. These new types of plastics are good stuff. Many items will be lighter in the future.”

Dad and I looked at each other and said in unison, “Hairdryers.” I immediately ran to the workbench where my notebook resided and made an entry.

Just as we sat down for dinner the phone rang; whoever it was talked to Dad for a while.

At dinner, Dad related, “That was George Weaver, he wanted us to know his story on Rick’s vacation and our family has been picked up for syndication.

“What’s syndication, “inquired Denny?

“Other papers have bought the right to publish the story in their Sunday supplements.”

“What other papers,” asked Eddie?

“He didn’t know all of them but it includes the New York Times and the Daily Mail in England.”

“Wow, we are going to be famous,” crowed Eddie.

“Will the real Queen read it,” asked Mary?

“I doubt that Mary,” replied Mum.

“Oh, she should.”

This conversation helped us through the dinner of navy beans and dumplings. This was a favorite of Dad's, but we kids detested it. This was about the only thing in the world we all agreed upon.

We were required to sit at the table until we cleaned our plate. A tradition was starting; our parents would have to leave the room for a minute.

We boys would divide up Mary’s portion between us. Later since she had cleaned her plate no fuss would be made when she ate cookies. This attitude about Mary held true outside the home. You can pick on me, touch Mary and you will get it from all of us.

I managed to finish the Russian novel. I decided I would never read another book in my life where every time you started to like a character the author would kill them off. Killing one or two okay, but almost everyone?

The last school day of the week was just another day with one exception. Before the bell rang to start Algebra, Sue Barton asked me what I thought of Pam Schaffer.

“She seems nice and is certainly good looking. This is the first school we have been at together so I really don’t know her.”

“She thinks you’re handsome and would like to get to know you better.”

I was too young to be overly cynical but thoughts of, “Or is it dinner at the country club and a limo?” did fleetingly go through my mind. Fortunately, a teenage ego saved me from such thoughts.

“I will have to talk to her one of these days.”

“She goes down to Don’s every Friday after school.”

“That’s a shame, I have golf practice today or I would be there. I would like to get to know her.”

Sue giggled, “I’m sure you will.”

Golf practice that night was interesting. Coach had a large map of the Northmoor Golf Course; home course of the Celina Bulldogs.  After the usual jokes of, “we will chain the Bulldogs,” and other remarks Coach went over the course with us.

“This course is actually the toughest you will play in the regular season. As usual, we will be teeing off from the black tee boxes. Northmoor is a twenty-seven hole course. We will be playing the Blue/Red courses.

It plays 6917 yards for a Par 71. This is an old mature course built-in 1923. The fairways are bluegrass and the greens bentgrass, so nothing new there”.

From there he went into detail of shot placement for every hole.

Coach continued, “Of particular note is the 16th hole on the Red course. It’s the longest hole on the course at 613 yards. It plays straight away but will be a challenge for even Rick’s long ball. Don’t push it, be happy to get in on three, and take a par. This hole has ruined more rounds than any other.”

After practice, I asked to be dropped off at Don’s Hamburger shop, but most of the kids had left. Pam was nowhere in sight so I had a long walk home for nothing

Chapter 33

After dinner that night I started taking the industrial hairdryer apart. I was interested in how it was wired. In my notebook, I drew a schematic of the electrical wiring. I also noted the model numbers of the fan, motor, and switches.

The switching was the most interesting. It looked like it would be right at home inside an old vacuum tube radio I owned.

I wondered if the on-off, fan speed and heat controls I was thinking of could be transistorized.

I would like to have a high and low-speed fan, and the same for heat. That would give four combinations for the user.

I remembered the movie set makeup artists who dealt with many hairstyles needing options. They called themselves an artist and at first, I laughed, after seeing what they had to achieve I quit laughing.

For the on-off, the current would run through a basic dipole switch which is either on or off. From there current would have to be directed through a transistor that would send it to one of two resistors, this would then regulate the current sent to the nichrome wire which would control the heat generated. There would be a similar arrangement to the fan controlling the speed.

I knew I probably didn’t have the circuit completely correct but I knew someone who could help me. My electricity merit badge counselor Mr. Robinson would be the man. Mr. Robinson was an avid HAM radio operator and built stuff all the time.

I had a HAM license but he was far ahead of me in the actual building of electronics. He was my Elmer when I first started.

Later I went in for some lighter reading. That Russian novel or whatever the author wanted to call it; had just about done me in. I went back to one of my old favorites from my bookshelf. The two brothers doing detective work was exactly my speed tonight.

Saturday we met at the school at seven o’clock for the one-hour bus trip to the Northmoor Golf Club near Grand Lake St. Mary’s. I had to remember to tell Mary she had a lake named after her, she would like that. I hoped we weren’t spoiling her.

The match was never in doubt. Gary Matthews was the only member of the team who lost to his Celina competitor and that was only by one stroke. I tore the course up.

When I got to the dreaded six hundred and thirteen-yard 16th hole of the Red Course I hit a drive which rolled and rolled on the flat hard fairway. It ended up being a three hundred and five-yard drive, my best ever.

Then my second shot with a three wood was over two hundred yards ending up two feet from the hole. It was an easy putt for my first ever Eagle.

By this time our team lead was so great that the Celina boys were even excited for me. After the match, while having a soft drink at the refreshment area named the nineteenth hole, the club pro told me that only happened once or twice a season.  I ended up with a 67 which was four under par for the course.

Dad had good news at dinner that night. We had rented out the North Detroit Street house for seventy-five dollars a month. With this start, he now intended to start looking for duplexes in town that he could buy, repair and rent out.

I wondered if they could buy, repair, and sell them quickly making a good turn around profit. I brought this up to Dad, who after thinking about it for a moment turned the idea down. He would rather work towards long term income.

I continued reading old favorites, this time with a young inventor and his flying machine.  I had chosen the original stories, they had been redone with the son of the inventor but I liked the original better.

Reading the story reminded me of my decision to learn to fly one day. I needed to check into that. I would go out to Tanger Field and see what lessons cost when the golf season was over.

Sunday was a lazy day at the Jackson household. My Dad drove down to Jackson’s Newsstand and bought a Columbus Dispatch. The newsstand owner was no relation. The George Weaver piece wasn’t in the paper which disappointed Mum and Dad, but not me. I was glad for a rest from the recent notoriety.

Later Tom and I walked downtown to Isley’s Restaurant. It was a combination of cafeteria and ice cream parlor. It was a Sunday destination for the high school crowd. There were none of the kids we ran around with there, so we bought a cone and walked to the Holland Theater. Nothing was playing that interested us, but I got excited to see that, “It Never Happened,” the movie I was in with John Wayne, and Elvis would be showing next week.

We walked on home taking the long way through Mary Rutan Park. We both agreed that life in Bellefontaine could be boring. That boredom lasted until we ran into Sue Barton and the dark-haired, full-figured Pam Schaffer walking back to the “Heights” as our neighborhood was called.

Pam walked with me and Sue with Tom. We talked about nothing and everything. Pam got very animated when she talked about the Drama Club. They were getting ready to start cast selection for the spring play they would be putting on in early May.

“Rick you should try out!”

I didn’t commit immediately, I told Pam I would think about it.

She countered with, “I wish you would, we would have fun being together.”

Now I was interested, it had taken a leap from being in a play to spending time with a very cute girl who was showing interest.

I asked, “When are tryouts?”

“The casting call is for next Tuesday immediately after school,” replied the veteran actress.

“I will talk to Coach Stone and see if I can miss practice. When will rehearsals start?”

“We start memorizing our lines right away but don’t get together for our first rehearsal until November.”

“Great, golf season will be over. I think I would like to do this and spend time with you.”

“That would be great Ricky,” responded the young girl with a voice that would be described as sultry when she grew up.

“What do we do at this casting call?” I inquired.

“You will be given some lines to read, our Drama Coach Mrs. Hadley looks for people who can give the proper inflection; then selects the best person for the part.”

“What is the play?”

“Our Town by Thornton Wilder, I bet you will get the role of George and I will be Emily. The story revolves around their lives.”

“I will give it a try. Where do we meet?”

“We meet after the sixth period in the auditorium.”

We had arrived at a corner, the girls went one way and us boys another. When they were a little way down the street I looked back at Pam. She was looking back at me. This was a good sign!

When I got home I rummaged through all the bookshelves in the house but they had nothing by Thornton Wilder. The encyclopedia did give a description of the play with its plot and roles. I made a mental note to look it up in the school library.

That night I reread an old favorite, about some really little people followed by giants then some intelligent horses. When reading this time I tried to understand what the author was really trying to say. I got the political satire part and loved the peeing to put out the fire. The intelligent horses meant nothing to me. Luckily that night my last thoughts before drifting off to sleep were of Pam rather than horses.

Chapter 34

Monday was a blustery day and I didn’t want to run, but it wasn’t raining, so out I went. I still couldn’t do my five miles faster than thirty minutes, but I wasn’t really winded at the end. I had also increased my sit-ups and pushups to one hundred each. I felt like I was in pretty good shape, but that I should be looking for other exercises.

Breakfast was quiet except for a little bickering between Denny and Eddie. They did that so much that no one even noticed. Mary was still asleep. Dad was deep in thought as he drank his coffee.

Mum asked me, “Rick what are your plans for this week?”

“Golf practice every day, but I have to ask Coach if I can skip Tuesday for Drama Club tryouts. I have to call Mr. Robinson to see if he would review the electrical circuit for the Hairdryer.”

“So long as you keep dinner open on Saturday.”

I knew exactly what that was all about but said, “Our golf tournament is in Columbus; we leave early but finish late so we will have to stay overnight.”

“Richard Edward Jackson you will be home for your birthday party on Saturday!” Mum exploded.

I just grinned.

She realized I had got her and started laughing, “You little so and so, you will pay for that.”

Birthdays at our house had always been small private parties. Not even cousins were invited; just our very immediate family. We had always given each other gifts, even if Mum and Dad had to take us shopping and pay for them.

“We play Marysville on Saturday here, so I should be home by three o’clock at the latest.”

“I’m still considering Tam Tattlers Tart for your dessert,” threatened Mum.

“Oh not that,” I replied!

There is no such thing as Tam Tattlers Tart. Mum always threatened us with it; she swore that she and her sister Mary had been acting up at dinner once so my Grand Mum had told them they deserved Tam Tattlers Tart. After dinner, they sat at the table expectantly waiting for their dessert.

After a while, they went to the kitchen and asked where the Tam Tattlers Tart was. At that point, Grand Mum told them there was no such thing, and they were getting what they deserved. Mum never did that to us, but we knew we were on thin ice when it was offered.

“Pax, I surrender.”

I learned Pax in Latin, Mum learned it in school, Pax Britannia.

As usual, I watched for Tom and Bill coming down the walk before I went out the door. Tom and I had been going places together but we hadn’t seen that much of Bill lately. As we walked along, Bill nonchalantly pulled out a pack of Lucky Strikes and a lighter.

“Bill, what are you doing,” a shocked Tom asked?

Every kid I knew had tried a cigarette at one time or the other, but to light one up on the way to school put you in another social class and it wasn’t a move up.

Bill belligerently told Tom, “I’m tired of being seen as a little kid.”

“Now you will be seen as a stupid kid,” I replied. “Have you read in the paper how it has been proven that cigarettes can cause lung cancer?”

“That just happens to old people, I will have stopped by then. If you guys don’t like it walk with someone else, I’m heading down to Wilcox’s anyway.”

Wilcox’s is a corner grocery store that is just far enough from the school that teachers ignored kids hanging out down there. It is a rougher crowd, not bad as in delinquent but as the guys taking shop class and their girls. Most of them smoked and it was well known that girls who smoked were wilder than those who didn’t. How this was established I have no idea but it was regarded as gospel.

“Bill do you think that is such a good idea,” I tried to reason.

“You guys can still get dates, I can’t, that skag Nancy Sparks has told everyone I have a big mouth, so none of the girls I ask out will date me.”

“How many did you ask?” inquired Tom.

“I asked about twenty girls in our class if they would like to go to the movies with me, they all said no, and the last couple just laughed at me.”

Tom and I looked at each other; we had no idea what else to say but knew Bill was going down a bad path. It wasn’t just the smoking, it was the whole attitude he was developing.

Tom and I walked to school while Bill headed to Wilcox’s. Talking while we walked, Tom and I admitted to each other we had tried a cigarette when we were thirteen and it was terrible.

Tom also wondered what his first taste of beer would be like. I kept my mouth shut, to me the beer was also terrible, I had one with Tab Hunter and Elvis Presley down in Mexico and didn’t care for it at all.

Classes were all review for our six-week exams which would be given on Thursday and Friday. To say I was bored was mild. The only interesting part of the day was in Algebra. Sue Barton told me that Pam Schaffer was really excited that I was going to be in the play with her and that she liked me.

I tried to slow this down. “Sue I have to try out for the part and get it. Before I can even do that I have to get Coach Stones' permission to skip a golf practice. I’m glad Pam likes me and I like her, but we really don’t know each other that well and have just begun to talk.”

“Oh, she knows she will like you very well, you take girls on the neatest dates.”

At that point, the bell rang for class to start. I was glad it had, I didn’t like the feeling that I might be, being used.

Tom and I met for lunch, but Bill didn’t show up, he must have gone to Wilcox’s to buy lunch, smoke, and be with his new friends, whoever they were.

Pam Schaffer and Sue Barton stopped by our table as we were finishing. Pam was all excited about the Drama Club tryouts. I told her I had found a copy of “Our Town” in the school library.

“Rick you will know the story, but not the lines, the book is different from the screenplay. Your reading will be from the screenplay, not the book.”

“Since I can read that shouldn’t be a problem,” I told Pam.

“It’s harder than you think Rick, you have to know the mood of the person and inject that into the reading.”

“Okay, I will keep that in mind as I read.”

“I wish I had a copy of the screenplay, so we could practice, but they don’t hand them out until you have the part.”

During my study halls and classes I started reading ahead and working problems for the next six weeks. If I kept this up I might have the year done by Christmas. That was a nice thought, but I was really only running a week ahead of my classes right now.

On the bus going to golf practice, I asked Coach about missing one practice. You would have thought I was asking for his firstborn.

That was until he started laughing. “Rick I think we can let you off just this once.”

The practice was putting and sand traps, and for variation, sand traps and putting. I would complain if asked, but I could see an enormous improvement in these areas since I had started playing.

When I got home I called Mr. Robinson and asked him if I could come over some evening to review a control circuit schematic I had laid out. He was enthusiastic in his response. He really liked anything working with electricity. He asked if I could come over after dinner. Mum said okay, so I told him I would be there around six-thirty.

Dinner was Swiss steak and mashed potatoes, one of my favorites. Halfway through dinner, the phone rang. Mum answered it. She kept saying yes, yes, yes that is me. As I was leaving to see Mr. Robinson she was still on the phone talking to whoever it was. Whoever it was, they were asking her a lot of questions.

I was at Mr. Robinson’s for over an hour. After he was satisfied that he knew what I was trying to achieve; he went through my circuit in great detail and suggested several changes.

Once we both agreed on a finished diagram he redrew it for me. He then signed and dated it; he also printed his name, with Electrical Engineer behind it and his license number.

“Rick when you sell your hairdryers I expect five hundred dollars for this work.”

He appeared to be joking but I treated it very seriously.

“Yes sir, I will do that, do you want to have your name on the patent as a co-inventor?”

He laughed and said, “No, most inventions don’t make any money for the inventor, so I will just take the money.”

I asked for a blank sheet of paper and wrote down the terms of our deal. He was to receive five hundred dollars for consulting on the electrical portion of this project but wasn’t a co-inventor. I had just read about doing this in a Tom Swift book.

“Rick I am glad to see you are serious and I wish you the best of luck. You know having the idea is only the first step. You have to manufacture the product, and then sell it. That is not easy, my lad.”

“Yes sir but I am determined.”

“Good for you.”

Chapter 35

When I got home Mum was still on the phone. She was talking a mile a minute. Dad had made her a cup of tea. From her eyes and wads of handkerchiefs, she had been crying, but she was very happy now, almost to the point of hysteria.

She talked for another half hour and finally wound down. When she hung up she told Dad that was Bet’s. He told her he had figured that out. The other kids were in watching TV.

Mum poured boiling water over another teabag. That was my friend from the war Betsy. She was my ambulance driver. We all knew Mum had been a first aider in the British Women’s Land Army during the blitz in World War II.

She continued, “Betsy and I were great friends and had many a good time together. Then I was transferred to Greys in Essex where I met your father. After you were born Ricky, she was your godmother.

The last time I saw her or heard from her was on VE Day until she called today. Our wartime duties prevented us from contacting each other. After the war, I came here, and she was very busy.”

“She saw that article in the Daily Mail about our family, all the names matched so she had someone check on us. When it was confirmed who we were she called.”

Mum then went into the front room to the glass-faced locked cabinet where she kept her mementos such as our bronzed baby shoes. She came back with a small framed picture. It was a picture of two young women in shapeless coveralls. They had their arms around each other’s back and were smiling for the camera. It was two beautiful young ladies in a horrible time.

“Rick this is your godmother Elizabeth Windsor.”

She had a second picture that I had never seen before. This picture was taken at your baptism by the Church of England at Gravesend. This is the same church where Pocahontas is buried.

There was my Dad in uniform, Elizabeth Windsor in a very nice hat and dress. Mum was holding me in her arms. There was also a man dressed as an American General.

“Mum why is Eisenhower in this picture?”

“He was the only one they could get to balance Betsy.”

“Balance Betsy,” I asked?

“Your father was going to ask his Captain to do the honors but when they found out Princess Elizabeth was going to be your God Mother they thought someone of higher rank should perform the duty.”

As Mum would say I was gobsmacked, “You mean to tell me that Queen Elizabeth and President Eisenhower are my God Parents?”

“Yes, and ten cents will get you a cup of coffee.”

“Wow!” was all I could say.

“When Betsy read that article she had her embassy in Washington check us out to see if we were the same Jackson’s she knew. She originally knew me as Peggy Newman my maiden name.”

“Wow!” was all I could still say.

Mum went on to tell stories of some of the things she and her Betsy did during the war. There was one night they were on a train to Greys, a Canadian soldier a good looking young man with very curly hair was passed out drunk. There was no one else in their car, so using their nail scissors they clipped all of his curls. They didn’t brush the curls off so that when he stood up he would shed hair everywhere.

They exited at the next stop. Somewhere in Canada, there is a middle-aged ex-soldier telling his family about the night he got so drunk his hair fell off.

“Wow!” was all I could say.

That night I had a hard time going to sleep, I couldn’t even settle down and read. Trying to imagine my Mum as a young lady and running around with a Princess doing crazy things was insane. This was nothing I could share with my friends but it was so neat!

It was raining too heavy in the morning to run. My running days were coming to an end until spring. I would miss that. Breakfast was a slight rehash of last night. Mum and Dad impressed on all of us kids how this wasn’t to be shared outside of the family.

Denny nodded solemnly, Eddie and I both said, “Yes Mum.”

Mary didn’t really understand what had gone on, but she proudly told Mum, “I won’t tell anyone you and the Princess cut the soldiers hair off.”

Mum and Dad exchanged looks. I think we were all glad that no one would know what Mary was talking about. Talk she would.

Dad loaded us, boys, into the Buick Roadmaster, and dropped us off at our schools. That car was big enough he could have hauled the whole football team. It was cool looking though, blue and white with portholes on the side of the engine cover. The tires were huge whitewalls, it was really spiffy.

School was half empty today; the flu had started going around early this year. I heard one teacher tell another that thirty percent of the students were absent. It was going to be a mess with so many kids out and missing their six-week exams.

After school was the tryouts for the Drama Club spring play. I went to the auditorium and there were quite a few kids there. Actors mustn’t get sick.

A senior student-directed all aspiring actors and actresses to sit in the front row. The Drama Coach and tenth grade English teacher, Mrs. Ramsey sat several rows behind us in the center of the auditorium. She had a clipboard to take notes and a copy of the screenplay. After sitting there for a few minutes she stood and announced.

“The first person at the end of the row will be given a copy of what they are to read on stage. There are two parts, the first is male; boys are to read this part. The second is marked female; the girls are to read this part.”

“When the first person goes on stage they hand the pages to the person sitting next to them. When they get on stage there will be another copy to read from. Announce your name and then start reading the lines.”

“After reading leave the copy on the stand where you found it. Then take a seat anywhere but the front row. In the meantime, the next person will have a chance to read over their lines while waiting. Is this clear?”

I thought it was clear, as mud, I was really glad I wasn’t first. Once it started it actually went smoothly. Well smoothly as far as getting kids up on stage with a script in their hands. I couldn’t believe how poorly some read, not in acting, just in their ability to read.

I was finally the next to read so the pages were handed to me to study. I read them to myself, trying to understand the emotion of the scene. I had also listened to others deliver the same lines. To me, it sounded like the person I would be playing was raging against the injustice of his wife dying.

Then it was time for me to walk up on stage. Boy, that was a different feeling, all eyes on me waiting for me to say something. I stood there.

Finally, Mrs. Ramsey said, “You may want to announce your name, then pick up the script and start reading.”

I wished l could sink into the stage at that moment.

I managed to read the lines, putting all the passion into the lines I could. I then went to sit with Pam who had already read her lines. She nodded but didn’t seem excited to see me.

I whispered that she had done great and that I was certain she would get the lead. She nodded her head in thanks or agreement but said nothing about my reading.

Finally, all had read. Some students had left, but most had stayed to see if they would get a part. Mrs. Ramsey spent about fifteen minutes with her notes and finally stood.

She announced, “The cast is as follows, Pam Schaeffer will play Emily, Sam Shepard is George.”

She went on to name the rest of the cast.

My name wasn’t read as an actor.

Mrs. Ramsey told us, “If your name wasn’t readout for the cast we still need stagehands, please see me if you are interested.”

I turned to congratulate Pam, but she was gone. She was on the other side of the auditorium speaking to Sam.

I approached Mrs. Ramsey; she asked if I wanted a stagehand position. I told her no, I just wanted to know what was so bad about my reading. She asked my name and looked at her notes.

She smiled and said, “That was the most overdone over the top reading I have ever heard. Please don’t take offense, but I don’t think the stage or screen is in your future.”

I managed to nod my head and walk away.

Chapter 36

I was humiliated, I was fuming mad; I had to get out of there without opening my mouth. What would come out would get me in big trouble. I wanted to cry, I wanted to get even, I wanted to run away.

How could I ever face the world again? As I walked home in the rain I had visions of taking Mrs. Ramsey to the Holland Theater this weekend to see me on the big screen in, “It Never Happened.

Of course, all she would see was me falling off a horse. Okay, I would get her to watch Spin and Marty when it was on the air. But all she would see was me riding a bull; then trying to force myself on Annette the first time she talked to me.

If I took her to see, “Hell Fighters,” all she would see was a brief glimpse of me working on an oil rig. Okay, I would join the Marines; that would show them!

By the time I walked home I figured out how ridiculous I was being. It started to strike me as being funny. When I walked into the kitchen where Mum was working on dinner she asked me what I was smiling about. I told her everything.

How I tried to inject passion in my reading, how bad it came across, the stupid thoughts I had on the way home. Then how I realized that it was no big deal, and I should forget it just like Pam appeared to forget me.

Mum's face looked like a lightbulb had come on.

She said, “I’m so glad I’m not your age. I would never want to live through that again.”

“Live through what,” I brilliantly asked.

“Being a teenager with all those hormones running amok,” she replied.

She then changed the subject.

“Wait here I have some things to show you.” She went into the front room where her cabinet was and returned with a spoon and a cup.

These were very special items; both were made out of silver. The spoon handle was engraved, ‘To my God Child-Richard Edward Jackson from HRH Princess Elizabeth of Great Britain,’ on the back. The cup was engraved, ‘To my God-Child Richard Edward Jackson from Dwight David Eisenhower Commander in Chief Allied Forces, General of the Army USA’.

“These are yours, but they should be kept locked up. One day they may be of great value.”

“Mum would you keep them for now, and I don’t care how much value they may have, they belong with the family forever.”

“I’ll keep them for you, Richard. When I see the fine young man and how you behaved today in the face of great disappointment I am almost ready to forgive you for how you were born.”

Mum had never forgiven me, no matter what she said, about my timing in being born. It was in the middle of an air raid. She couldn’t be moved while in labor, so I was born in her bed upstairs as the bombs fell. They destroyed the house across the street and blew our door open and broke all the windows. You would think she would get over it.

At dinner that night I shared with the rest of the family how I had stunk up the stage. Denny and Eddie thought it was funny. Mary wanted to go punch the old meanie who didn’t like my acting. Dad laughed about it but didn’t make a big deal about it, so that was good.

Dad had his own news to share with the family. Actually, it was several pieces of news. First of all, he had made an offer on a duplex through Tapp Realty. It had been accepted. He hoped to have the purchase completed by Thanksgiving and work started on renovations.

His second news was that we were getting a TV antenna! The installers would be here tomorrow to erect a tower for the antenna. It would connect to a box on top of the TV. By turning a knob you would be able to change the direction of the antenna and improve the picture.

It would be so much better than the rabbit ears that we had to move around all the time. The ears had worked better when Dad had wrapped them with aluminum foil, but they still had problems. Mum thought it would be great that we would be able to watch all three channels just by turning the antenna.

The events of the day left me very tired that night. I went to bed and fell asleep without reading.

Wednesday I was up and at it. The rain had passed through and we had another beautiful fall day. Mum had the radio on when I came in from my run; they were doing an interview with Ohio State Coach Woody Hayes.

Woody was predicting they would beat Illinois this Saturday at Champaign. When asked his strategy he said, “It will be fullback Bob White in three yards and a cloud of dust. We will bring the IIIbuck trophy home again.”

Asked if there would be a repeat trip to the Rose Bowl, he replied, “Of course, after beating Michigan.”

(Ed. Note: They did beat Illinois that week and brought the carved wooden turtle home. Bob White had another good week running. They did beat Michigan but didn’t go to the Rose Bowl.)

I went out the door when I saw Tom coming: we hadn’t seen Bill for a while. I didn’t know when or how Bill was getting to school.

Tom’s first words were, “Did you hear about Bill?”

“No, what happened?”

“He and a couple of other guys got caught by the Police in Mary Rutan Park Saturday night. They were drinking beer. Bill was really drunk and took a swing at one of the cops. He didn’t hurt the cop when he hit him, but the cop hit Bill with his nightstick and broke his arm. His parents are talking about sending him to a Military Academy to get him out of town.”

“Where is he now?”

“At home, he is not allowed out until after his court date. The Police wanted to put him in jail on the assault charge but his Uncle, Tom Patterson the County Prosecutor, allowed his house arrest.”

“That’s too bad, but he is really having some problems.”

“Yeah, I tried to call him but his parents wouldn’t let me talk to him. They said they didn’t want him to associate with anyone who helped him get in trouble.”

“That’s not fair! You had nothing to do with it.”

“I know, some blame a woman, Nancy Sparks, but it’s his own damn fault.”

Of course, Bill was the talk of the school. Before the day was over I heard he had tried to shoot a Policeman but shot himself in the arm instead.

Other than that it was a day of review for the upcoming tests. I kept working ahead on the next six weeks.

Chapter 37

Golf practice was a surprise, putting! We did spend some time on the driving range, but most of it was putting. Coach also started talking about the Sectional Tournament at Bowling Green, Ohio. It would be played at the Stone Ridge Golf Course.

Stone Ridge is 7054 yards from the Gold tees. So while not a long course it is still in the range the professional golfers play. There would be one team from each school.

The team which wins the tournament will advance to the District. The four top individuals who aren’t on the winning team will also advance. At the District level, it is the same advancement to the State.

That way if the team doesn’t make it to the State Championship the top individuals still have a chance of competing and winning. Coach was looking straight at me when he said that. No pressure here.

Dinner was spaghetti which we all loved. Then to top it off Mum had made a trifle. Her version was a biscuit base covered by a can of fruit cocktail topped with vanilla pudding. The canned fruit juices would be allowed to soak into the biscuit before she poured the hot vanilla pudding, then it was allowed to set up. This was my favorite dessert of all time.

That night I read about a guy who didn’t age but had a picture in his attic that did. It was really creepy, but kind of neat.

Thursday was cool, but clear so I was able to run once more. The radio this morning was talking about Bobby Fischer winning the United States Chess Championship at age 14. I hadn’t paid any attention to that, but that explained why the Chess Club at school had gotten so popular. I played, but not close to that well.

The six-week tests were a yawn. My biggest problem was in American History. There were one hundred and fifty questions. They were all fill in the blank questions. I finished one hundred and forty-nine of them in thirty minutes and sat there for the next fifteen minutes trying to remember who wrote Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Of course right after I turned my test in I thought of Harriet Beecher Stowe.

Golf practice was playing the front nine. It was fun as there were few people on the course. The fairways and greens were pretty beat up from the summer, but the rough’s condition wasn’t too bad, it was rough as usual.

It certainly added a dimension when my putt would take an unexpected bounce or even a change of direction, because of a previous ding in the green. I would have to pay special attention to this on Saturday.

The big news at dinner was that Denny announced he was going to try out for the middle school basketball team. We thought he would do well, his accuracy was incredible. Eddie was champing at the bit for his time to play. He was just as accurate as Denny and would be taller.

Mary was very quiet. Mum asked her why she wasn’t talking.

Mary asked, “Mum do they have teams for Princesses in school.”

Mum thought for a moment and told her, “Yes they do, they are called Cheerleaders.”

“Then I will be a Cheerleader.”

We all agreed she would be the best Cheerleader ever. What sort of monster were we creating?

After dinner, I went to my room and brought out a set of pom-poms for Mary. They were the stick type with long thin slices of paper; half the paper black, half red the Bellefontaine High School colors.

These were handed out in the stands at every football game. I proceeded to teach Mary several simple cheers. Hey, she may end up a monster, but she is and always will be my baby sister.

That night I read some really funny stories by an old Englishman who spoke really weird, some words did not even seem to be English. They were tales about a group of travelers on a pilgrimage to a town. They named a ghost after the town later on, or maybe the town was named after the ghost. I saw that in a movie on TV.

Friday was nice. but we had a hard frost that night. Dad called those killing frost as the bugs would all die. It made running a pleasure as I warmed up.

School was okay, more tests. In the morning walk with Tom, I asked him if he knew anything more about what was going on with Bill. He didn’t, the only time they saw anyone from the family, it was Bill’s dad going back and forth to his job as a Supervisor at Detroit Aluminum and Brass.

Golf practice was the back nine today. Again it was laid back and easy as we had the course to ourselves. I did run into Dr. Costin in the clubhouse when we were finished. He told me he had checked and there was no age limit on membership. Just have a sponsor and the money.

I told him I would think about it. It would be good to be able to play here when the school golf season was over. However, I didn’t plan to stick around next summer.

I didn’t know yet where I would go, but some thoughts were percolating. I didn’t even have a girlfriend to bring to the restaurant for dinner. All in all, I wasn’t certain there was a need.

I talked about it with my parents at dinner. Dad thought for a while.

“If this rental business goes well I could see it as a useful business tool for the contacts. That would mean I would have to be a member, and we would have a full family membership. Why don’t you hold off till next season and we see how things go.”

That made sense to me.

That night I finished up the Canterbury Tales, I also figured out that it had nothing to do with the Canterbury Ghost. Maybe I shouldn’t believe everything I watched on the TV.

Before I fell asleep I did think about Bill. After his rejection by the girls in our class, for his loud mouth and exaggerating about Nancy, his reaction was to reject us all. His smoking, running with a different crowd, drinking beer, and attacking a Police Officer was certainly a rejection of our high school society.

How was that different than my initial reaction to not making the play? The only difference was I didn’t act on my first impulse. Bill did and now he is in a mess. Taking that together with Mum’s comment about hormones run amok I better watch my reaction to disappointment. The first action should always be, shut your mouth, and think it through

Chapter 38

Saturday morning I was up bright and early as usual. I doubt if I could sleep in anymore even if I wanted to. Dad was drinking his morning coffee as I came back from my run.

My cheerful, “Good Morning,” received a grunt in return.

I interpreted that to mean, “Shut up and leave me alone, you horrible cheerful person.”

Taking this hint I took my shower. I still couldn’t figure out how to make the showerhead adjustable without leaking.

We met at the school as usual for the bus to the country club. The whole team was up for the match with Marysville. We loosened up on the practice green and driving range.

The Marysville team started at the same time as we did. In all the other golf matches we played everyone had been polite to each other. The Marysville group was different.

They started making comments about how they were going to kick our butts. Then they got personal about our appearances, and how we hit the golf ball. If a ball went slightly wrong they laughed and pointed out what losers we were. Our respective Coaches were drinking a cup of coffee inside the club, so they heard none of this.

I hadn’t hit anything other than my irons. I decided to keep it that way. I was feeling limber enough that I wouldn’t use my driver until I teed off. My actions would be my statement. One by one I pulled my teammates aside and explained my plan. We wouldn’t respond to their taunts other than to beat the crap out of them.

Our team went from looking frustrated to almost smug. This got to the Marysville team and they redoubled their efforts. The more they did the less we said and the more we smiled. When we lined up for the tee toss to see who had the honors, we won with the tee pointing towards our team.

Since I currently had the best handicap I was first up. The first hole was a three hundred and fifty-four dog leg to the right. The shot I made I had tried on Thursday so I knew I could make it. I drove the ball and it landed curving into the dogleg.

The ground was hard enough it rolled almost to the apron of the green. After my follow-through, I turned to the Marysville player who was up next and said, “Talk is cheap.”

Even that comment was enough to get me taken aside by Coach and told to watch my sportsmanship.

My plan worked, the Marysville player shanked his shot to the left badly. It cleared the lady's tees enough that his own teammates didn’t have to tell him to wear a dress but it was close.

John Scott from our team was up after that and he hit a career distance line drive approaching two hundred and forty yards. That was the end of the day for Marysville.

Marysville never got their act together. Their Coach started berating them to the point, that we were embarrassed for the other team. At least we were learning where their speech habits were formed.

The icing on the cake was when we walked up to the first green. My ball had rolled directly in front of the green. The hole was nicely centered in the front of the green that day, so I had an easy hit and run up a slight slope for a two-under eagle.

My opponent had a double bogey. I would like to say I set another course record that day, I didn’t; I only tied it.

All four members of our team won our matches. What I found interesting was when we were shaking hands after the match the Marysville Team Captain, who was looking down at his shoes, quietly said, “I’m sorry about the early talk, we were told it would mess your minds up and get you off balance for the match.”

I took that to mean their Coach had told them to use that garbage. Was garbage talk going to be the way games were played in the future? What lesson would that teach young athletes?

How they talked didn’t matter, we won!

Needless to say, the ride back to town was loud and cheerful. John Scott filled Coach in on the way Marysville had talked on the practice green.

Coach told us that he was proud of our reaction. He even forgave me for my comment on the first tee.

“Rick, at least you only made a general comment, it wasn’t personal to anyone there.”

Then he burst into a big smile and told me, “Good team leadership.”

I hadn’t said anything to the team about my birthday so I escaped without any big scenes. That all changed when I got home.

It started out quiet with soup and hotdogs for lunch. After that, the house started smelling good as Mum baked my Birthday cake. As usual, it was my favorite white cake with lots of icing. Of course, there would be ice cream with it.

While Mum was baking Denny and Eddie were putting up streamers. Mary was already practicing at pin the tail on the donkey. When it was time all she would need was a blindfold and a tail to pin. In the meantime, she was nailing it with her finger. She never missed it once.

Dad was having another one of his thousand or so cups of coffee a day. It may not be that many, but it seems like it. I was a disappointment to both Mum and Dad. I didn’t like coffee or tea. Just don’t get between me and a Nehi grape soda.

After lunch, it was time for the annual height measurement. I would be the first to be measured in this house. At our old house, we would go to a closet and stand in the doorway, and Mum would mark off our height on the edge. She would then measure our height with a tape measure.

Our names; date and height would then be written on the mark. My birthday was the first at our new home, so my mark was the first up in the hall closet.

I had to paint over the measurements on Detroit Street and remembered feeling funny about painting over our lives. Now a new tradition was starting. I started it outright. I had grown another inch.

I was now six foot three inches tall. That immediately got Dad dragged into the fray. We were placed back to back with Mum holding a yardstick level. I was now taller than my Dad. He reminded me he could still kick my butt. I didn’t doubt that for a second.

Not to be left out Mary showed us how she had grown. Since her birthday was in June she wasn’t eligible for official measurement. What she did show the whole family was that she could now sit at the table and eat using only the Sears & Roebuck catalog.

She had removed the thinner J. C. Penny catalog from the stack and was able to reach her plate just fine. Why very soon she would be able to remove the four folded brown paper shopping bags from under the Sears catalog!

When the thundering herd went outside to play for the afternoon Mum gave me two letters. This was unusual because we always opened and shared birthday cards at the party after dinner.

“I thought you should see these without the other kids present. What they don’t know they won’t talk about.”

One was in a cream-colored envelope and it was made of the fanciest paper I had ever held. I didn’t know how to describe it but you knew whoever used this paper was rich. Seeing the British Stamps gave a clue. The royal coat of arms of the United Kingdom on the back put all doubts to rest.

Mum handed me a letter opener. I didn’t even know we owned one. I slit the envelope open and there was a handwritten letter inside.

It was from Her Majesty Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and of Her other Realms and Territories, Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith.

At least she did not use her full title: Her Majesty Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of Great Britain, Ireland and the British Dominions beyond the Seas Queen, Defender of the Faith, Duchess of Edinburgh, Countess of Merioneth, Baroness Greenwich, Duke of Lancaster, Lord of Mann, Duke of Normandy, Sovereign of the Most Honourable Order of the Garter, Sovereign of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath, Sovereign of the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle, Sovereign of the Most Illustrious Order of Saint Patrick, Sovereign of the Most Distinguished Order of Saint Michael and Saint George, Sovereign of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, Sovereign of the Distinguished Service Order, Sovereign of the Imperial Service Order, Sovereign of the Most Exalted Order of the Star of India, Sovereign of the Most Eminent Order of the Indian Empire, Sovereign of the Order of British India, Sovereign of the Indian Order of Merit, Sovereign of the Order of Burma, Sovereign of the Royal Order of Victoria and Albert, Sovereign of the Royal Family Order of King Edward VII, Sovereign of the Order of Merit, Sovereign of the Order of the Companions of Honour, Sovereign of the Royal Victorian Order, Sovereign of the Most Venerable Order of the Hospital of St John of Jerusalem.

And that does not count the titles for seventeen other countries such as Canada and Australia.

The handwritten note boiled down to Birthday greetings from my Sovereign. By the way, if I was ever in the area pop in at Buckingham Palace or where ever she was residing, so many castles so little time.

The letter was much more formal and nicer, but that is what it said.  I was to let the Palace know in advance. I suspect that was so I wouldn’t be sent directly to the Tower and have my head chopped off. She also extended an offer to provide help where she could if I had problems. I can see it now, skipping school, getting caught, and having the Queen of England intercede. I had to share that thought with Mum.

“Richard Edward Jackson,” she started.

Then stopped, “You little so and so, you have got me again, you are going to pay. Now, where is that chocolate icing?”

“No Mum, not that, anything but that, I cried!”

Actually, I didn’t mind chocolate icing, it just wasn’t my favorite. It is not as though she had threatened to put catsup on my hot dog. Only mustard will do.

I gave her the Queens letter to read. She handed me the other letter. It was a bright white envelope and easy to figure out.

It had a seal that said, “The President of the United States.”

Carefully using the letter opener I opened President Eisenhower’s letter.  I read it through completely. Dad wanted to know, “What does that strike breaker have to say?”

I handed him the letter to read.

President Eisenhower took the time to write. He explained that he barely remembered my baptism as he had many things on his mind at that time (think the European Theater of World War II).

Somehow a follow-up note for my first birthday was never put on file. Because of this no cards or greetings were sent. As the years went by he had totally forgotten. Only a message from Queen Elizabeth and a search by an Aide-de-Camp had found a record of the event.

He wished me a happy birthday, and if I was ever in the area pop in at The White House after advance notification. I could see J. Edgar Hoover hauling me off to Alcatraz if I showed up unannounced. If there was anything within reason that he could do to help me, please let him know.

All in all nice letters, but I doubted I would have the chance to pop in at Buckingham Palace or The White House. Well maybe.

After a wonderful roast beef and mashed potato dinner we had the ice cream and cake and did the usual butcher job on singing Happy Birthday. I opened and shared the birthday cards from Dad's side of the family which were local.

Then the ones from Mum's side with exotic postage stamps. England, New Zealand, Trinidad, India, and Singapore were all included. After the war Mum's brothers, sisters and cousins had spread all over the world.

When it was time to open presents I opened those from my brothers and sister first. They had bought me two new shirts. Mary told me I needed them because my others had ugly ink stains. Mum and Dad took care of the ink stain problem.

They presented me with a gold Cross ballpoint pen and pencil set with my name engraved. These were expensive when I started to object; Dad came out with, “Ricky we are sitting in this home because of you, we are working towards a more stable income because of you. I think we can afford and you deserve this.”

That ended all of my objections.

I was now officially fifteen years old.

Sunday the whole family went to the movie to watch, “It Never Happened,” starring John Wayne, Elvis Presley and if you looked real fast at the end credits Ricky Jackson. The family had been prepped for my big scene. I fell off the horse like a sack of potatoes, nothing graceful about it.

The horse dragged me along, bouncing my head off the ground. It was painful to watch even though I didn’t get hurt. My siblings made so much noise other people sitting near us shushed them.

Mum took umbrage and told them her son is the one that had been drug by the horse and they would make noise if they wanted. We almost got asked to leave by the usher when he came down to see what the commotion was about.

After things were explained in a low whisper we were asked to see the manager after the show. It turned out the manager wanted me to sign the poster advertising the movie. They had heard a local was in the movie but weren’t sure who.

As we were leaving the Holland Theater with its moving clouds and turning windmills we saw the Marquee being changed, my name was being added.

That night I started to read about a really deformed guy that rang bells in a church.

Chapter 39

Monday I was ready for school and the week. This week was the start of the Ohio State Golf Tournament for boys. I practically flew around my five-mile run. It just felt like it, my time was within seconds of normal. The day was bright and clear. I was excited about going to Bowling Green; though I was born in England and traveled from there, it didn’t count as I didn’t remember it.

I had hitchhiked to California and gone coast to coast but I still was excited about going someplace new to me. We would leave Thursday after school.

Breakfast was the normal chaos. Denny and Eddie were arguing over who was the better superhero, Saturn Girl or Lightning Boy. They had just recruited Super Boy to the Legion of Hero’s.

Dad wasn’t there. He was working a freight train to Cleveland. He had left late last night and wouldn’t be home till late tonight. I always thought it would be fun to ride in a caboose until I had the chance several years ago.

They are dirty, cold, and uncomfortable. I had to pee and used the toilet. When I flushed it I realized the pee and anything else was dumped directly on the track.

I had asked Dad about that and he told me that is why he hated passenger trains. Setting the airbrakes on a Pullman car was nasty as it had stuff all over the bottom of them. I would be glad when we owned enough rentals that he could quit the railroad.

I walked to school with Tom as usual. Neither of us had heard any more about Bill. Apparently, he was being kept home until his case was resolved. We hoped he would be sent to a military academy rather than the juvenile hall.

We then argued the merits of Culver Academy vs. Howe Military School. We had both done in-depth research by reading their small ads in the back of Boys Life. I had the advantage of reading, “The Black Horse of Culver,” so I was able to win my argument easily.

I did wonder how the fiction I had read related to reality. I thought back to the winners write history lesson, I had learned. That didn’t matter; I wasn’t going to let the lack of hard facts get in the way of winning such an important argument.

School was busy and the flu had run its course so now we had almost a third of the school in a panic about taking makeup exams for their six weeks' grades. Mr. Gordon the Principal announced that all students needing to make up exams report to their regular classroom where the tests would be administered.

If you had taken your tests to go to the auditorium and bring your books. I wondered how many who hadn’t taken their tests would end up in the auditorium.

The auditorium was a mess. Everyone sat where they pleased and did nothing but talk. The monitoring teachers kept it to a dull roar. I guess it was successful as there was only one pushing, shoving and shouting match. I never did find out what it was about or who was involved. I spent my time reading. We were dismissed for our usual lunches and told to report back to the auditorium.

At the end of the day it was announced if we weren’t taking exams we didn’t have to come to school the next day. However, for those children that hadn’t anywhere else to go and their parents both worked they could come and spend the day at the auditorium. I could think of three kids that might do it, they obeyed every other rule to the point of pain.

Golf practice was spent on the putting green and reviewing the layout of the Stone Ridge golf course. Coach had a nice large map and we discussed how to play each hole, depending on our individual strengths. Coach passed out small notebooks to us that would fit in our shirt pockets.

Coach told us, “Write Stone Ridge Golf Course and October 1958 on the front cover and inside page. Saving two pages for each hole, number them one through eighteen, gold tees.

Take notes today; add to them when we walk the course on Friday, then again later during Friday's practice round. Note the clubs you plan to use and update as you play. During the actual rounds refer to these notes before you tee off. It will save you a lot of confusion in the heat of play.”

“Similar to my inventor's notebook,” I thought.

At dinner that night I updated Mum on no school tomorrow. I asked if it would be okay if I went downtown and shopped for some new pants. After my birthday height measurement, I now realized that my current pants were too short.

She thought that would be a good idea.

“That reminds me, there was a call from Bush Electric; your order is here. You can pick it up anytime.”

“That’s good news, I’ll do that.”

After dinner, Denny, Eddie, and I played a little basketball, but it was getting dark earlier and earlier. We went in and watched Robin Hood on CBS. After that was Burns and Allen but we didn’t care for them, their comedy was for old people. I read until lights out at ten o’clock.

I had checked a book out of the library on time travel. It had Eloi and Morlocks in the future. It was a good story but I didn’t think the future would end up like that. I think the author was trying to make a political statement about class.

His statement was made within the context of British Victorian society; I wonder what he would have made of America in the 1950s?

Dad was at breakfast in the morning. His train had got back from Cleveland a little while ago. He was about to get cleaned up and go to bed, but of course, he first had to have a cup of coffee and a cigarette.

I woke up at my usual time even though I hadn’t any school today. I told Dad about how the flu had really messed up the school schedule. He told me that he had read that this was the worst flu season since 1918 when so many died. Dad’s oldest brother died from it like a newborn in 1918.

The other kids managed to sleep in. Mum was doing the laundry using her new washer and dryer. That was so neat; the washer would spin water out of the clothes. The dryer would heat and spin them some more.

This beat the old way of hanging the clothes outside to dry after running them through the rollers on the washing machine tub to get rid of most of the water.

The rollers that squeezed the water out of the clothes were called mangles because they would mangle your arm if you were caught in between the rollers. In the winter when it was too cold outside we would have laundry hanging all over the house.

I went out to the garage to the workbench and made a shopping list to take to Bush Electric. This comprised of solid-state transistors, diodes, and resistors recommended by Mr. Robinson.

They would be used to make my control circuit for my hairdryer. I also would need solder, flux, and a soldering iron to make the circuit. That Boy Scout Electricity Merit Badge was one of the better awards I had earned.

I read till ten o’clock finishing up the book on time travel. I would drop it off when I went downtown, maybe the library would have something new in.

Tom knocked on the door almost when I was ready to leave.

“What’s up, Tom?”

“I wanted to see if you wanted to go downtown, maybe catch lunch at Don’s?”

“I was about to run some errands downtown, let me check with Mum about lunch.”

Mum said it was fine with her, be back by dinner time.

Our first stop was the library to drop my book off. When I went in Mrs. Bush was back in the stacks re-shelving books so I checked my book back in. I had this privilege from my paperboy days.

The library was on my route so I was there every day. They soon got tired of me and taught me how to check my own books in and out. Laura said this probably saved her a hundred hours a year.

This was an exaggeration, but I loved to hear her cute southern accent when she said it. There wasn’t anything interesting on the new arrivals shelf.

We proceeded to Wolfeins; Henry was there, as usual, he wouldn’t make eye contact, just looking at your feet. However, he had the best selection of clothes in town as far as teenagers were concerned.

He showed me a really cool corduroy suit. It was black; he also had a red shirt that I could wear with it to ball games and pep rally days. I had to buy it even though the suit was sixteen dollars and the shirt three dollars. I already owned a black-tie so I was all set.

I think Tom was a little jealous of both of the suit and the fact that I had money to buy it, but he didn’t say anything. Henry put the suit on a hanger with a paper bag over it.

He agreed to hold on to the items until we were ready to go home. We walked on down to DeLong’s record store and listened to some of the new releases. I bought a forty-five of Peggy Sue by Buddy Holly.

Chapter 40

At DeLong's, I also noticed ‘Rock and Roll Cowboy’ had dropped completely off the charts. This was a mixed blessing, I hated the song after hearing it so many times, but I liked the money going to the Leukemia fund, also this would give us a tax break. I say us on the tax break because as a minor everything had to go through my parents.

We stopped at Dee’s Department Store. That place made me feel weird. It was mostly women’s fashions but had some men’s clothes, so I wanted to check them out. They had nothing that interested me. What was weird about the store as they only had one cash register. It was on a balcony that overlooked the entire store.

There was a system of tracks for each point of sale. The clerk would put the sales slip and cash in a little box and put it on the tracks. The tracks had cords turning that made a big loop.

The cords would take the box up to the balcony where you then would hear the big old brass register ring up the sale. The cords would then be reversed and a paid in full sales slip would come back. There was a whole network of these. I thought of it as a big spider web, with the cash register being the spider in the center of the web.

We left there and crossed the street to Don’s. We spent almost two hours there. Every kid who was out of school came and went. We got to Don’s about eleven-thirty so were able to get a booth.

Lunch was hamburgers, fries, and a coke. Later I had a butterscotch milkshake. Gary and Tim from the golf team joined us.

Half the kids in our high school came there for lunch that day. Unfortunately, no pretty girls asked to join us. I would have kicked Gary and Tim out if they had.

Pam Schaffer came in holding hands with Sam Shepard and she didn’t even look my way. I would have to become a big-time actor before she would notice me. But if I were a big-time actor would I notice her?

After lunch, we worked our way back up the street. Stopping by Wolfeins I remembered my original mission had been to buy several pairs of pants. Instead, I had bought a suit and a shirt.

Asking for his help Henry helped me pick out a light and dark pair of chino pants. My waist size was still thirty inches but my inseam was now thirty-four inches.

From there we stopped at Bush Electric. Tom was at the counter so he knew that I was there to pick up my order. I also placed a new order for solid-state transistors, diodes, and resistors. Tom suggested I buy the latest silicon transistors rather than germanium because they handled the heat better.

The fixed germanium diodes were still the best. The resistors that worked best for potentiometers were those made by Western Electric. I ended up ordering all Western Electric made parts.

Bush had the flux, solder and soldering iron in stock, but agreed to hold them till the other parts were in. I ordered enough parts to build ten control sets for the hairdryer. While I was doing this Tom was listening avidly.

He thought it was cool that I was trying to build something that would be of use. He agreed that anything was better than hearing his mother say, “You will catch your death.”

I now had the motor, fan, and parts to build a heating element for my dryer. I could work on proper airflow and temperatures using the variac controller.

The controller weighed about twenty pounds so I cheated and paid for a taxi to take us home. The taxi service was only half a block away so we walked there. John Sullivan was on duty.

Mr. Sullivan remembered me well. He told me that they had bought a new limo and it was booked up with enough weddings, dances and other special events to pay for the first year. It looked like a money maker. He just hoped it didn’t get lost in a card game. The ride home cost seventy-five cents but was well worth it.

When Tom and I got back to my house Mum wanted to know what clothes I had bought. When she saw the suit I was ordered to try it on to make certain it fit. I had tried it on in the store and it fit, according to Henry who did his own tailoring. When Mum says try it on you try it on. To beat a hasty retreat out the door.

The suit fit perfectly well and Mum approved of its look. She also liked the red shirt that went with it for school spirit. The other pants also fit and passed muster. Once this was out of the way, I took my other purchases to the garage.

I had already collected some vital elements; a small cigar box, a toilet paper roll, parts from my erector set, Popsicle sticks, a plugin lamp cord, and an extension cord.

Using my Barlow knife and a pair of tin snips I cut the Popsicle sticks so that I could make an “X” which would fit inside the toilet paper roll. I made two of these, inserting one at each end of the roll.

I then threaded two feet of nichrome wire back and forth on the “X”, careful to leave both ends of the wire at the same end of the toilet paper roll. This would be my heating element.

I then cut a hole as close to the diameter of the toilet paper roll as I could in the short end of the cigar box. The box I had selected was about six inches in both length and width. It was four inches high. I did a very poor job of cutting. It ended up as a very ragged circle.

That was okay, I used one of Dad’s ever-present rolls of duct tape to attach the toilet paper roll and close the gaps left by the ragged edges.

After installing the toilet paper roll it was now known as the barrel with heating element installed. I made a sketch in my notebook and labeled the parts. I also signed and dated the sketch.

Using parts of my erector set I made a simple framework inside the cigar box to which I could attach the fan and motor. The fan was attached so that it would blow air through the barrel across the heating element.

The ends of the nichrome wires threaded through another hole I had cut in the cigar box at a right angle to the first hole.

I also cut two pieces of copper wire and attached them to the motor and threaded them through the same hole as the nichrome wire.

I then belatedly realized that I had bare wires which could touch each other and short out, so I took everything apart and wrapped the bare wires in some of Dad’s electrical tape. I also made a note to buy more duct tape and electrical tape.

Dad got bent out of shape when his tools weren’t replaced. He wouldn’t like it if I used his stuff up and didn’t replace it.

After reassembling the unit I attached the loose heating element wires and motor wires to the variac. Using the extension cord I plugged it into the outlet near the door to the house.

I took the time to wonder why garages only have one outlet in inconvenient spots. The moment of truth had arrived. I turned the power on. Nothing happened, at least no sound from the fan running.

Turning the unit off, it only took a moment to realize the fan hadn’t any electrical connection to the motor. I hadn’t wired it. Disassembling it once more I installed the wires after first wrapping all but the ends in electrical tape.

After reassembling the unit I turned it on. Success, well at least I could hear the fan running. As I stood there basking at the moment the fan started to increase its pitch. It went from a low humming to a scream. Mum came out of the kitchen to see what was going on.

I had turned the variac off by then.

Mum said, “I wondered what that sound was, it’s like my Hoover when it gets clogged up.”

A light bulb came on. I cut vent holes in the lid of the box so the fan could get enough air.

Trying once more still had an increase in sound, so I cut more vent holes. This cured that condition. This required more notes in my notebook. I was logging each step, mistakes, and the disassembly required for the fix.  I had learned that, using the little lab notebook as instructed with my Gilbert Chemistry set.

The air coming out of the barrel didn’t feel hot enough to dry hair so I increased the power to the variac. Two things happened. The air did get warmer and the fan sped up. Since I had them connected to the same leads on the variac they acted in unison rather than separately.

After turning the unit off and unplugging it, I disconnected the motor wires from the variac and spliced them to the lamp cord wire. The motor was made to work off house current so this wasn’t a safety hazard; I just couldn’t vary the fan speed.

Once again reassembling the unit I turned it on, now using the variac I could change the heat up and down. The only problem was I did not know what temperatures I was getting, nor what was needed to dry hair.

This would require a trip back to Mrs. Baily’s solon to measure the temperature put out by her Sunbeam dryers. I also needed to acquire a thermometer.

It was getting close to dinner so I unplugged everything and coiled the extension cord. I remembered Dad’s lecture on trip hazards. If there was one thing in life my father could do was give a lecture.

I had read that in a speech you told people what you were going to tell them, you told them; then you told them what you told them. This was called “telling three times.” Dad was of the “telling fifteen times” school of speech.

I also left a handmade sign on the workbench, “Please do not disturb, Mad Scientist at work.”

Chapter 41

At dinner we had pancakes, this was Dad’s specialty, so Mum got the night off. He would make what he called Silver Dollar pancakes. They were small, close to the size of a silver dollar. We kids would keep track of how many we could eat. I could eat five normal pancakes. These were about a third of the size so I was able to eat fifteen of them. Denny had to beat me with sixteen. I wonder if that had anything to do with the bellyache he had later.

As we finished dinner the telephone rang.

Dad answered with his usual, “City morgue, you stab 'em, we slab’em, some go to Heaven and some go to Hello.”

The person on the other end took it well as you could hear laughter.

Dad then got serious, “This is the Jackson Residence.”

He listened and then turned to me and handed me the phone, “Its John Wayne for you.”

I thought he was kidding, he wasn’t.

I answered with a tentative, “Hello.”

“Ricky this is John Wayne, how have you been.”

“Fine, thank you, and how are you.”

“I’m great Ricky I’m putting together a new movie and I have a part that would be perfect for you.”

Mr. Wayne then proceeded to tell me about the movie, “The Cowboys,” its basis was that all the adult men in town that usually went on a trail drive were off on a search for gold. This left the old trail boss, played by Mr. Wayne, having to hire eleven teenage boys to drive the cattle four hundred miles to the train.

He felt that since I could ride bulls, and fall off horses plus behaved myself on a movie set I would be good for a part. He did have to put in that crack about falling off horses.

The movie would start production in January and take seven weeks. I objected that I had school. He countered with they would be running a school on set and would co-ordinate with my school so I didn’t fall behind. The pay would be twenty-five hundred dollars a week. He then asked to speak to my Dad.

They talked a while; well Mr. Wayne talked a lot answering Dad's questions.

Dad finally ended it with, “Send a contract as you have described, and if our lawyer says okay he will do it.”

Dad handed the phone back to me.

“Rick we will be emailing you a copy of the script once we have a signed contract in place. You will have to memorize your lines before shooting starts.”

Thinking of my recent Drama Club audition I replied, “I don’t know if I can deliver lines.”

“That’s why we have acting coaches, to teach you how to say your lines naturally.”

That was a big relief.

We said our goodnights and hung up. The whole family was excited. Dad asked if Mr. Wayne had said anything about how much they were paying. I whispered to him, twenty-five hundred dollars. He said that is really good for seven weeks' work. I whispered back, no that is each week.

You would think I had attached those electric wires to Dad. He dragged me and Mum into the front room where we could talk without the other kids hearing. When I repeated to them it was twenty-five hundred per week they both jumped up and down like kids. Dad was ready to ship me off to Hollywood right then and there.

Mum had the practical questions like school and where would I stay, you know, Mum things. Since I spent the summer on the road she knew I could handle myself; she just wanted to make certain I would be taken care of.

We went back to the kitchen where my brothers and sister waited. Dad told them I might be in another movie but not to talk about it yet, as there was no signed contract. Eddie wanted to know when and Dad told him it was being mailed so it would be soon. Denny wanted to know if he could have my room.

“Not yet.”

Mary wanted to know if cheerleading princesses were allowed to ride horses in movies.

Mum told her, “Yes they are, watch Annette in Zoro on the Disney show.”

That night my mind was going a million miles an hour thinking of all the possibilities and trying to imagine what being in a full movie would be like. I had been in scenes but hadn’t acted. I kept trying to read but would go over the same page several times. I finally put the book down and a long time later fell asleep.

My alarm went off way too early. It was a struggle to get out of bed and do my exercises. By the time I had finished my run I was waking up. The shower finished the job of waking me. I still couldn’t figure out how to make an adjustable showerhead.

Dad was drinking his coffee when I went down for breakfast. I knew he was in a good mood because he said, “Morning,” rather than grunting. Mum had a pot of porridge ready to go.

While I ate she asked me if I was ready to go to Bowling Green for the golf tournament. I told her I was. It was when I was picking up my books to leave for school that Mum asked, “Are you going to take any clothes with you?”

“Sure Mum, I am going to pack right now. Do we own a suitcase?”

That last question gave me away.

She broke out laughing and said, “Coach Stone has experience with teenage boys, he mailed us a note. I got the suitcase down from the attic. Let’s go pack. You are to leave your case in his office in the locker room.”

The suitcase was pretty cool; it had stickers from when Mum crossed the Atlantic. They were from the Queen Mary of the Cunard White Star Line, with city stickers from Liverpool, London, and New York.

Tom was impressed by all the stickers on the suitcase as we walked to school. Mum was a real-world traveler. I told him, that I was also a world traveler since I was on that trip. He cut me no slack because I was three years old at the time.

For me, the golf sectional tournament had become real. I was leaving town and staying at a college. I wondered what it would be like staying in a college dorm. Would there be toga parties, food fights? Time would tell.

School was a blur and all messed up. Teachers were trying to get classes back on track since their lesson plans had gotten two days behind. Kids who had been off yesterday were rambunctious. Kids who had been off ill were trying to figure out if they missed any homework.

Then there were the poor souls who had still been sick and this was their first day back and they had to see about makeup tests. As I said, a blur and all messed up.

After lunch Coach, Stone, John, Gary, Tim, and I met at Coaches office and collected our gear. Coach had prearranged our being out on Friday and had all of our assignments for us. He suggested we work on them during the bus ride.

After a quick look, I knew I had already done all the reading and worked the problems. Since I was over a week ahead I decided to not take any textbooks.

This, of course, led to a conversation with Coach. He knew I was a straight-A student, he didn’t know how far ahead of the class I routinely kept. The other guys were standing there during this talk and reassured Coach that I was a famous grind in school.

“Okay, Jackson but if your grades drop this next six weeks you are off the team the rest of the year.”

I wondered why the other guys were smiling; then I realized the golf season would be over for the year in three weeks.

We went out to the club to pick up our clubs and other gear. It took us about three hours, so we got to Bowling Green State University at four o’clock.

Chapter 42

On the trip, I read about a sailor who rounded Cape Horn on a sailing ship. They went to California to trade for cattle hides and also visited the Sandwich Islands; it took two years and was extremely hard.

I was really impressed with his description of icebergs and the hard life of the common sailor. I was glad that when I had the measles they didn’t ship me off to sea.

Our bus drove around behind the stadium; there was a row of fifteen steel Quonset hut buildings sitting there. This is where we were staying. I learned this was called “Tin Pan Alley” for the steel buildings.

When it rained or hailed it must be noisy. They had been put up in 1946 to house men returning from the war. Students had in the last two years been moved to the two new residence halls.

Bowling Green or BGSU as it was known had done a credible job setting the buildings up for us. They had been subdivided into rooms for two. There was a central lounge and a large shower and bathroom facility.

Very much like a dorm setup would be. I had been preassigned hut four, room 5. Tim and I were to share a room, John and Gary in another. Coach would be staying with our bus driver.

It didn’t take us long to move our gear including clubs to our rooms. After that, we all met in the lounge and went as a group to one of the school cafeterias. We said hello to players from Urbana, Kenton, and Celina. We didn’t see the group from Marysville, but someone said they were here.

After dinner, we were split into smaller groups and given a tour of the campus. While going through the library I got interested in the books and got separated from our group. I continued to browse until an attractive young lady named Diane asked me to reach for a book that was on a high shelf. We started talking and soon I had joined her at a study table.

We no sooner sat down than our tour guide showed up. The rest of the tour was with him. He started giving me grief about keeping up with the tour group and that high school kids were pain at best.

At this point, Diane asked, “You are in High School?”

“Yes, I am a freshman,” I replied.

She blushed as deep of red as I have ever seen. She also couldn’t get out of that library fast enough. I had done nothing, but it made my reputation with the guys on the tour. From the way they talked in the lounge back at Tin Pan Alley I was the pickup artist of all time. I wondered what price I would pay for this.

We were all up and ready to go by seven in the morning. Breakfast was in the cafeteria. While eating I heard that a team had got in trouble. They had left Tin Pan Alley after lights out and went downtown and tried to buy beer. The Police brought them back. The word was they were on their way back to Marysville right now. They were definitely out of the tournament.

We were loaded on the bus and taken to Stone Ridge where we spent from eight o’clock to ten o’clock walking the course. At ten the first practice round started, our tee time wasn’t until two o’clock as we had a bad draw for tee times. We would have to hustle to get a round in before dark.

This was the first time I had walked a course before playing. It was very interesting. I was making notes in my book like crazy. From the course map, I had planned an ideal golf round for my shots. Now I got to see what lies I would have if I hit those shots. Of particular note was the fourteenth hole.

It is a par five whose green is guarded by my friends the sand traps. If I hit one of my longer drives it could roll into a trap on my right which curved out in front of the green. I decided unless my score was desperate to lay up with a three wood at about two hundred yards.

We finished up and moved onto the driving range where we warmed up for a while, then to the putting green. Next, we went into the clubhouse for lunch. This clubhouse was so much nicer than the Bellefontaine clubhouse.

I wondered what the Ohio State clubhouse would be like if I made it that far. We stopped by the pro shop where I picked up some tees which had Stone Ridge printed on them. I decided to start a collection right then and there.

Our tee off was fifteen minutes late. The course officials had kept pushing everyone all day and it was almost a miracle that it was only fifteen minutes. It is amazing when you walk up to a tee and what is in front of you is known.

Except for the Bellefontaine course, every time I teed off this year was an adventure. Knowing what club to use, and what the conditions are like where your ball is landing can be a real confidence builder.

It took us five full hours to play eighteen. Sunset was at six fifty-three and twilight at seven twenty-one so we just barely made it in the last of the daylight. There were two groups behind us, the last one had to quit at the seventeenth hole.

Our draws for the tournament were much better; we had a ten a.m. tee time on Saturday and eleven a.m. on Sunday.

I started out with pars on the first three holes. I managed to sink a fifteen-foot putt for a birdie on four. There were another three pars in a row then birdies on eight and nine. I came back with pars on ten and eleven.

On twelve I made an Eagle sinking it from twenty feet. It wasn’t only a good putt it was the best looking. There never was a doubt that it was going in.

I birdied the fourteenth hole, hitting up short rather than going for the long drive. That left me in perfect shape to drop the ball on the green within ten feet of the pin. This must have made me a little overconfident.

I bogeyed fifteen, rolling a long drive into a trap on the left at the front of the green. I came back with pars to finish the round at a five-under sixty-seven. This left me as the leader of the tournament.

John Scott had a seventy-one, Gary Matthews a seventy-four and Tim Green a seventy-five. This gave us an overall team score of two hundred and eighty-seven. The next team from Findlay was at two hundred ninety-two, so we still had to play at our best to win.

With our ten o’clock start we were finished by three o’clock. Coach accompanied us back to campus where we went to the bookstore and all bought Bowling Green State University sweatshirts.

We then took a walk around the area and saw all the frat houses. They looked neat from a distance but the closer you got to the buildings the rattier they were. I wasn’t impressed. If they looked like that on the outside, what would the inside be like?

I hadn’t given much thought about college until this year as it didn’t seem like we could ever afford it. I had never thought about joining a fraternity and doubted I would now. The other guys talked about the great parties they must have. So far anything to do with drinking hadn’t ended up well that I could see.

The next day I crushed the course, with seven birdies. I was out at sixty-five. a youth course record. It also was enough to pull the team through. Tim went through a rough patch and ended with an eighty-one. Gary and John were both at par so our team score was two hundred and ninety. Findlay had two hundred ninety-one so we took the team tournament by four strokes.

It was a little ironic; we were both going to Findlay. The difference was since they lost we got to play on their home course and they didn’t. I had a very brief conversation with a Findlay team member and he seemed puzzled about the District being played at Red Hawk, he didn’t seem to know that course.

He got called away, and I forgot the conversation. At the trophy presentation, all of the Findlay team members were real gentlemen about losing. What a difference from those Marysville jerks.

The bus ride home took forever on Sunday evening but it was tired, but a happy bunch that got dropped off at the school. Our parents were all waiting for us so there was a lot of noise. Mary was there with her Pom Poms, she had been allowed to stay up late. Our golf team declared her to be our official cheerleader. To heck with those older pretty girls,...sure.

Chapter 43

Monday didn’t start out well, a cold front had moved in overnight and it was raining. I performed my exercises but didn’t even think about running. How is it possible to feel great and terrible at the same time?

I was tired; it felt like I had been on the go for weeks. At the same time, I felt great; we had won the sectional and would be going to the District this week. I had an offer to be in a movie. I was making progress on my hairdryer. Everything was good if I wasn’t so tired and ached so much.

I went down for breakfast. One smell of eggs frying in the kitchen and I was running back to my bathroom to throw up. Mum heard the noise and came to check on me.

She felt my forehead and said, “Off to bed with you boyo, you have the flu.”

I went back to bed and slept most of the day, other than bouts of running to the bathroom. It was both ends. My temperature showed no sign of going down. Mum kept bringing cool rags when I was awake. Tuesday was more of the same so she called Dr. Costin.

He stopped by in the afternoon as a house call and confirmed that I had the flu but that my temperature was down from what Mum had measured.  Drink plenty of liquids, and starve the fever was his prescription.

Tuesday night the fever broke. By late Wednesday morning, I was feeling good enough to get out of bed for lunch. By this time Denny and Eddie had come down with it. Mary was still okay and Mum was keeping her away from us.

The only good thing was I got all the Nehi grape soda I could drink. For some reason when I had the flu it was the only thing I could keep down. This happened at least once every school year.

When I had the mumps, chickenpox, whooping cough, German and three-day measles, or a common cold I could eat and drink anything. The flu was Nehi only.

Coach Stone called on Wednesday and Mum told him she thought I would be back in school Thursday and able to go to the District golf tournament. I felt a little weak on Wednesday afternoon but was up and about.

Mum had an appointment with Sharon Baily to have her hair done, so I was charged with watching the other kids. The boys were asleep and Mary was playing with her dolls, so I went out to the garage to work with the hairdryer.

The goal was to make a handheld unit. So far I had a cigar box lying on a workbench. It needed a handle. I tried another toilet paper roll (I had emptied several rolls myself in the last two days) as a handle. I slipped the electric power wires through it and taped it to the cigar box. When I tried to pick it up, the paper roll broke.

I threaded the wires through an unbroken roll and then put some short Lincoln Logs inside the roll. I then taped it all together and I had a sturdy handle. Picking the prototype hairdryer up the cigar box lid fell open so I taped it shut.

I updated a drawing in my notebook. I now had a barrel with a heating element (toilet paper roll), housing (cigar box with erector set parts), and a handle (toilet paper roll reinforced with Lincoln Logs.

I was keeping all of my notes in a lab workbook Gilbert Chemistry set style, now I only had to find a use for tinker toys and I would have an all American hairdryer.

I could now pick the dryer up and wave it around. The weight felt good at about one pound, not too heavy but some heft to it.  I went in and checked on the boys, they were still asleep. Mary was bored so I ended up reading Dr. Seuss to her. I love green ham. Actually, she told me the story as she had “read” it so many times. She also was able to sight-read some of the words.

Mum got home with a present from Mrs. Baily; she had sent me a bag of hair to test my dryer. She had saved hanks of long hair she had cut. I trapped one end of the hank of hair between two long tinker toy sticks and duct-taped the sticks together.

I then used the tinker toys to build a framework to suspend the hair. I entered a drawing of my test fixture and its components in my notebook.

Mum had to sign for a certified letter. It was the contract from Warner Brother’s studio for, “The Cowboys.” Dad was switching cars BN yards today, just at the north end of Bellefontaine, it was where the stockyards were so Dad would be all stinky when he got home.

Mum opened the letter and let me read it, from what I could tell it was exactly as Mr. Wayne had described. Dad would still take it to our lawyer.

I wetted the hair in the fixture; then dried it. It dried ok but had a burnt smell to it. There was also a singed smell to the dryer. When I checked it, the toilet paper roll which comprised the barrel was brown, about ready to catch on fire.

Well, at least I knew I could create enough heat. I then disassembled the unit and found that the Popsicle sticks were charred and about to burn.

I asked Mum if I could use the phone, and it was okay. I called Bush Electric and Tom answered the phone. I explained that my device was about to burn up and what would he recommend using.

He told me that they used sheets of asbestos for insulation. It came in a flat sheet that could be cut and even rolled up. I asked him if it could be rolled to fit inside a toilet paper roll and he told me that it definitely could.

They had it in stock at fifty cents a square foot. I told him it would be next Monday at the earliest before I could stop down, but that I needed a sheet.

I watched TV with the kids; The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet followed by The Donna Reed Show, at nine-thirty they had to get ready for bed, so I changed the channel and watched Bat Masterson. At ten I had to go to bed.

I was allowed to read as late as I wanted, so long as I got up with no trouble. When I was younger I would read under my covers with a flashlight. I thought I was getting away with something. I didn’t realize that the light could be seen through the covers.

I was reading a really fun book. It has a guy from New England thrown back in time; He becomes known as The Boss. He destroys the tower of a real grouchy magician and changes a lot of things, but in the end, he can’t change history.

Thursday I was able to go back to school. I skipped all my exercises and running one more day. I didn’t feel that good yet. They handed out report cards in homeroom.

As expected I got all A’s. By doing everything ahead I was feeling less stressed by school than ever. I had yet to run into a problem in the book that I couldn’t sort out myself. If I did all I would have to do is pay attention in class, or even shudder, ask a question.

After lunch, we met Coach for our ride to the country club and then (I thought) to Findlay. First Coach asked me how I was feeling. I told him a lot better, still a little weak, but not ill at all. He shook his head slightly accepting my statement. Then Coach made an announcement.

There is a clown working in the Ohio State Boys Golf Tournament office. The letter sent out said we would be playing the District at the Red Hawk golf course in Findlay.

There is no such golf course. It seems the guy’s uncle wants to build one there with that name, and he thought he would get a plugin for him! Well, he now has the time to help him as he no longer has a job.

We are going up near Toledo to play at the Inverness Club. That is where they played last year’s open, won by Dick Mayer. This may be the best course you will ever play in your life. That gave the whole team mixed emotions, great we get to play on a world-class golf course; oh crap it is going to eat us alive.

Coach continued on, “Ricks slacking off turned out good for him. That map we were sent for Red Hawk was the proposed course so our planning was wasted. I don’t have a current map of Inverness, so we are going to have to take really good notes when we walk the course in the morning.”

When we got to the Inverness Club we were taken to a field where tents had been set up. They looked like old army tents. In fact, the Ohio National Guard had set them up. They also had put in place a field kitchen, water buffalos, and a shower facility and portable latrines. The tents looked like a six-sided pyramid. They had plenty of room for four of us to sleep on cots that had been set up with sleeping bags on them.

The club may be posh, but we were camping. There was really no choice since there wasn’t any place to put up thirty-two teams of four plus supporting adults.

After getting settled in our team walked over as a group to the clubhouse. We were only allowed to go inside the pro shop. I bought some tees that said, “Inverness Toledo,” on them.

We did peek into the main clubhouse; it was the fanciest place I had ever seen. We also scoped out the practice tees and green, but again weren’t allowed to use them.

It was time for dinner when we got back; we had to line up with a metal tray and were served by the National Guardsmen. They were performing their monthly duty and from the fun, they were having this must be good duty.

I mentioned that to one of them, he chuckled and said, “No rain, no mud, no middle of the night drills, good duty.”

I was really glad I had brought that book with knights because there was nothing else to do. They had a lamp in each tent but it wasn’t enough to read by, but I had brought my trusty flashlight.

Chapter 44

We got woken around two a.m. by whistles and commotion over by the National Guard tents. They were going on a night march, not such good duty after all.

In the morning breakfast line I saw the National Guardsman who had told me this was good duty, he didn’t look like he had a lot of sleep. I nodded to him as I went by, but kept my mouth shut.

He surprised me by saying, “You take the good with the bad, it is still good duty.”

Now that is a positive attitude if I ever saw one.

I hadn’t much experience around the military other than the veterans in my own family. They all seemed to look at life the same way. They groused a little but kept ongoing. I would try to keep that attitude in mind when things got rough, rather than being what Mum called a whinger.

After breakfast, we walked the course. We took many notes as we went. We weren’t allowed to do any putting on the green, but the course marshals keeping an eye on things didn’t get upset if a golf ball fell out of your pocket and rolled towards the hole on a tricky lie.

These greens were like greased lightning. They were also the smallest and had the most breaks I had seen on any course. The bunkers protecting them would have done credit to the Maginot line. Coach pointed out how fourteen and fifteen were at right angles so no matter which way the wind was blowing you would have trouble on one or the other.

Number eight-hole would be interesting; it is a par 5 and would require a 250-yard drive to clear the bunkers in the fairway. They should be declared illegal on all golf courses. I could clear the bunkers.

The real problem is that the only way to get a decent putt was to land on the right side of the green below the hole. This would be an accuracy challenge.

The tenth hole was made to cause me problems. It’s a par four but had a downhill slope with a rough between the 250-yard marker and the green. My normal drive would end up in the rough. I would have to layup and hit the green with an eight iron.

The par four 470 yards seventeenth was a potential problem hole. It was a sharp dogleg left. I could probably position my drive, okay, but if my second shot was long it was a bogey at best if not a double. It was below the hole or be in trouble.

The good news was that most of the sand traps and creek crossings were designed to cause problems for the golfer who drove 225 yards or less. I could drive past most of the problems.

After walking the course we spent time on the driving range to loosen up, but most of our time on the practice greens. There was no question that I had to be below the hole on every green to have a chance of one putting. They were just too fast going downhill.

We had a one o’clock tee time, so we stopped at an outdoor hotdog stand to get a bite to eat. We had just sat down at the outdoor picnic benches when I noticed a girl who seemed to be having problems. She had her hands at her throat and seemed to have trouble breathing. As a matter of fact, she was choking.

I took the four steps to get to her and asked her if she was okay. She couldn’t say anything just trying to draw air but not succeeding. Her mouth was open and I could see part of a hot dog wedged in her throat.

I tried to reach in with my fingers and almost had them bitten off. Not knowing what to do, I slapped her hard in the middle of her back. She spits the hotdog across the table.

She immediately started taking great whoops of air. By that time other people had noticed what was going on. One gentleman came running over and asked, “Judy, are you okay?”

He then turned to me and said, “I don’t know why you hit my daughter young man but I’m calling the sheriff.”

Luckily for me, he didn’t have far to go because a deputy sheriff was standing right there and had seen the whole event.

The deputy explained that he saw that Judy was having problems and was on his way to help her but I got there first. He explained that it was lucky I was the first one there because he hadn’t any idea how to dislodge a hotdog like that.

Both Judy’s father and the deputy looked at me like they wanted me to explain how I knew what to do.

I explained, “I found out real quick I couldn’t get it out of her mouth from the front, so I applied force from behind. I hadn’t a clue if it would work but had to do something before she suffocated.”

Her father who looked extremely emotional held out his hand and said,” I’m so sorry I snapped at you, I only saw you hit Judy, now I know you saved her life I feel like a fool.”

I replied, “That is a natural reaction when one's daughter is hit. No apology is necessary.”

By that time the young lady had recovered her breath. She turned to me and gave me a simple, “Thank you.”

I got my first look at her; she was a head shorter than me with dark brown hair and brown eyes. A full very nice figure, meaning well develop breasts. She looked about my age and she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

“You’re welcome,” I managed to stutter. About that time an older woman came up and there was no doubt that she was Judy’s mother. This started a whole new round of questions and explanations.

This whole incident happened in the space of less than a minute. Coach Stone who had been watching came over to make certain I was okay. He and Mr. King, Judy’s father introduced themselves.

Judy’s Mom hovered over Judy until she heard a “Mom” in that special teenage voice which said you are embarrassing me, and also told Mom that she was okay. At that point, Mom joined Coach and Mr. King.

I turned to Judy and said, “That was scary, I hope I didn’t hurt you when I hit your back, I just didn’t know what else to try.”

“That’s okay; my name is Judy King, what’s yours?”

Rick or Ricky Jackson, I am here for the golf tournament.”

“Where are you from?”

“Bellefontaine.”

“Oh that is too bad, I live in Clintonville. That is really Columbus next to Ohio State.”

I asked her, “What grade are you in?”

“The ninth; and I’m fifteen.”

“So am I!”

“When is your birthday?”

“October 11; when is yours?”

“May 28.”

“That’s okay, I like older women.” That got me a light slug on the arm. At least she didn’t knock me off the bench.

“I see you are going to be a handful,” she said.

Wait, Whoa, Hold up; what was going on here?

About that time Coach came up and said, “Rick it is almost our tee time we have to go.”

Judy pulled out a ballpoint pen and a slip of paper.

She scribbled quickly, “Here is my address, write me. Oh yes, and win this tournament so I can see you next week.”

“Yes Ma’am,” I replied.

Mum hadn’t raised any fools.

As we walked towards the first tee for our practice round I got a lot of ‘way to goes’ from my teammates.

Gary Matthews said, “Leave it to Rick, he not only saves the girl, but she also is a pretty girl, and what is that note I saw her hand you.”

“Her address, she wants me to write.”

Of course, that got me a lot of grief.

As the other boys limbered up on the tee, Coach took me aside.

“Rick several things, you were ill earlier in the week, how do you feel now?”

“Fine Coach, I felt a little weak yesterday, but I am back to normal now.”

“I’m glad to hear that, now the other thing is, Mr. King and his wife Sandra have invited you to have dinner with them and Judy in the clubhouse tonight as their guest. Do you feel comfortable with that?”

“Yes, I do Coach, though I don’t have a coat and tie with me.”

“Did you bring any money with you and if so how much?”

Coach didn’t even blink when I told him I had about two hundred and fifty dollars on me. I was running low from last summer’s money but still had five hundred left. I sure hoped that reward money came soon; I was living an expensive life.

“They sell sports coats, ties, and slacks in the pro shop. We will stop thereafter your round.”

“Rick you should also know that Mr. Robert King is the President of the Ohio High School Athletic Association. That is a volunteer position. His work job is the President of the Western Electric Plant in Columbus.

He has over five thousand employees. His wife Sandra is a Vice President of Ohio National Bank. She is old Ohio Money, she is from one of the founding families, she is descended from Nathan Kelly, one of Washington’s officers.”

“They told you this?”

“No Coach Benton from the Toledo Bowsher team did after he saw me talking to them. Right now you are the talk of the clubhouse.”

“Great what I need is more fame, oh well it will pass.”

“Right, let’s go get you famous for your golf.”

Chapter 45

During practice I learned several important lessons about the course, the first was on the eighth hole, you had better be on the right side of the green or you were looking at a bogey.

I came into the left of the pin and when I putted, the ball which was supposed to gently roll into the cup kept picking up speed as it went, causing it to drift away from the cup and roll right off the green.

The wind on fifteen was blowing across the course and what would’ve been a drive to the middle of the fairway ended up in the rough to the right. I recovered for the par, but this hole if played correctly would be a chance for a birdie.

I would have to watch the wind closely on fourteen and fifteen and whichever had the crosswind, hit a low shot, sacrificing distance for accuracy.

The last five holes were known as “Murderers Row,” they would destroy an otherwise good score. The eighteenth had a little valley or swale to the right of the green known as, ‘Death Valley.’ It was where many good golf rounds went to die. I kept out of it on the practice round, but it seemed to be lurking there waiting to grab a careless shot.

After practice, I dropped my gear off at the tent and went in search of Mr. King. He wasn’t hard to find as he was at the tournament official's pavilion. They had a pavilion as opposed to our tents. It was much fancier, white with doors and windows.

I waited until he was finished talking to someone and approached him. He stood up quickly and offered his hand.

After shaking hands, I told him I would be delighted to join his family for dinner this evening.

He asked me, “Rick do you have a coat and tie with you?”

“No sir I don’t, I was planning to buy what I need at the pro shop.”

“Rick now I feel like a fool again. It will cost you over one hundred dollars to buy your clothes in the pro shop. I wanted to reward you in a nice way for saving my daughter and here I’m going to cost you a lot of money.”

“Sir that is okay, I have the money on me and can afford it, besides I need a new jacket and pants, I have outgrown all my clothes recently.”

“You certainly are tall,” replied the six-footer.

“I have just got my growth this summer and then again in the last couple of weeks. I don’t even know if I’ve finished growing yet.”

“Time will tell, in the meantime let me go shopping with you, I can get a discount as the club I belong to is reciprocal with Inverness.”

“I would appreciate that.”

He helped me pick out a pair of grey slacks and a dark blue blazer. He assured me that they would be appropriate for almost any occasion. These with a button-down collar white shirt and a tie with red and black regimental stripes made me look sharp.

When it came time to pay Mr. King took the clerk aside and talked to him. He came back to me and told me he had got a seventy-five percent discount for me.

I knew that he told the clerk he would pay the difference, but I didn’t want to argue about it. The clothes still cost me twenty-seven dollars.

I was wearing my ostrich cowboy boots. Mr. King asked me about them. I told him that I had bought them on a trip out west last year. He suggested that I have them cleaned by one of the valets in the clubhouse. “

We aren’t allowed in there.”

“Come with me, young man.”

I dutifully followed him into the men’s locker room. They had a regular shoe shine chair there. He had “Thomas” polish my boots. Thomas told me he hadn’t seen as nice a pair of boots as mine for a long time.

I told him I had bought them at Sheplers in Dallas.

Thomas asked, “What were you doing in Dallas.”

Now I hadn’t told Mr. King the whole story about why I had my boots, but I figured I had better come clean because it would come out anyway.

“I was there for a rodeo.”

“Were you in the rodeo, or watching it?’

“Okay you are not going to quit till I tell all; I was in the rodeo, riding Brahma bulls. Last year I was the National Champion bull rider for my age group.”

“Whoa, a young man that is pretty impressive.”

I replied, “Thank you.”

I was really watching to see what Mr. King's reaction would be. You could see that he was trying to remember something but couldn’t quite bring it to mind. You also could see when he did remember.

“Rick was it you and your family I read about in the Sunday supplement a few weeks ago.”

“Probably sir,” I replied.

“Oh lord, I’m in for it now.”

“Why is that?”

“I jokingly told Judy that you were the sort of guy she should marry.”

“How did she respond?”

“You are in trouble; she told me she would marry you in a heartbeat.”

“But I’m only fifteen.”

“I met her mother when she was fifteen. I never had a chance.”

I started to say something smart-mouthed but stopped.

“You know there could be worse ways to go, but I think this is getting way ahead of ourselves; probably five or ten years.”

You could see the relief in the young lady's father’s face.

He muttered, “Now if only she looks at it that way.”

Mr. King paid and tipped for my shine, and I left to change into my new duds.

I took a very cold shower as the heater was off, that may have been a good thing. I got dressed and slicked down my hair with a little dab of Brylcream. I noticed from the gunk in my comb it was about time to change the oil, which meant to wash my hair. As I got older it needed washing at least once a week sometimes even twice.

Of course, the guys all gave me a hard time, in a fun way. Even the National Guard guys going by jumped in. One said I was bucking to be an officer. He said it nicely, but somehow I don’t think it was a compliment.

I went to the restaurant entrance to the clubhouse precisely on time. The King family was waiting for me. Judy jumped up and gave me a hug, she also whispered, “Play along.”

First, there were thanks again from her parents.

I gave a cowboy, “Ah shucks weren’t nothing;” response.

Then the grilling started, they obviously somehow got a chance to reread that article on our family and my summer vacation since I had left Mr. King in the pro shop. They wanted the details filled in. It was normal curiosity, nothing hostile.

Then Judy dropped her bombshell.

“Daddy you were right, this is the man I am going to marry.”

Daddies, mouth started to hang open but before he could say anything she continued.

Turning to me, she said, “Dear do you want to wait till we graduate High School or get married in the spring?”

Not knowing where this was going I replied, “We probably should wait till we graduate, it is so hard to go to high school while you have children at home.”

“Yes dear, I suspect you are right.”

You should have seen Mr. King's face, his mouth kept bobbing up and down. He wanted to say something but nothing would come out.

All of a sudden Judy and her mother burst out into laughter.

“We got you, Daddy.”

He took a deep breath and said, “Yes you did.”

Turning to me; “You will pay for this, I expect it from them, but I thought it was us, men, in it together.”

“Sir, discretion is the better part of valor, and I had my marching orders.”

I’m not certain what discretion had to do with marching orders, but it worked, at least for now.

From that moment on it was a delightful dinner. Mr. and Mrs. King told me a little about their family. There really wasn’t any new information, but it was nice to have it confirmed. At the same time, they wanted to know about my parents and what they did. The questions were not rude or too invasive.

One thing that really interested them was my Dad buying houses, fixing them up, and renting them out.

Mr. King remarked, “Usually you hear of people buying houses and renting them, but nothing about fixing them up first.”

“Dad felt he could get a better monthly rent, and a nicer house would rent out first. Plus in a small town like ours, word gets out which landlord has better houses.”

“Your Dad has a good head on his shoulders.”

When we were finished eating I paid my respects and got ready to leave.

Judy got up and said, “I will see you back to the camping area.”

Her parents didn’t object. Actually, she only went as far as the picnic tables outside where we sat down across from each other.

We sat and talked for over an hour. It was a getting to know you type of conversation. We covered a lot of likes and dislikes. Surprisingly enough we had more in common than I thought we would.

We were both straight-A students. We weren’t in the inner social circles of our class and didn’t care. We both were avid readers. She had read everything Heinlein had ever written and could discuss the stories.

She was an only child so she didn’t know the joys of the pests. Her Mom and Dad both worked hard. She had tried cigarettes but didn’t care for them, she had a sip of beer and it was terrible. She played field hockey for Clintonville High School.

She asked me many questions, what I liked, was when I talked about my summer vacation she wanted to hear about me, not John Wayne or Elvis Presley. She did express the desire to hear me sing. I told her that wasn’t going to happen.

It was starting to get too cool to sit outside without a heavier coat. We had been sitting on opposite sides of the picnic table so we were never close enough for me to try to kiss her. As she walked away I realized that we had been sitting in front of a window in the restaurant and that her parents were still there and had been able to see us the whole time.  I think I had dodged a bullet.

I floated back to the tent area. The guys from the team all wanted to know if I got her alone, and if so how far did I get.

“No, I didn’t get her alone, and if we had done anything they would be the last to know.”

I remembered Bill’s big mouth and the problems it caused him.

That night I started a book from Aunt Merle’s library. It was about ten young adults who went on a retreat and each had to tell a story a day. Those stories were pretty bawdy. Those old guys knew how to have a good time. They also could get in big trouble, at least in their stories.

Chapter 46

Saturday I woke up feeling like a new person, I was completely recovered from the flu. I did my morning exercises and run. The National Guard guys who were up and around thought I was crazy. They did a daily run, but only for two miles and not full out. I showered got dressed for the day and went to breakfast.

After French toast with bacon and eggs for breakfast along with a large glass of orange juice, I was ready to start my day. The rest of the team had come out for breakfast but hadn’t cleaned up yet. Coach Stone was sitting with several other Coaches having coffee so I grabbed my putter and some balls and headed out to the practice green.

It was early enough there were only a couple of other people there, and none of the players in the tournament. While putting I noticed something a little off. The sun was not up high enough yet to remove all shadows from the surface of the practice green.

When I putted from the sun into the shadow, the ball would slow down, not a lot but enough to make a difference. When I putted from the shadow into the sun the ball would speed up, again not a lot, but enough to cause the ball to drift off its line.

I was lining up putts to take advantage of this effect when a gentleman said, “You have noticed the shadow effect here. It is the most pronounced in the spring and fall. In high summer the greens are hard enough it doesn’t make a difference. Knowing this might save you two strokes.”

“Thank you, Mr. Palmer.”

“You’re welcome and good luck on your round today, I hope to see more of you, Rick.”

Now how did Arnold Palmer know my name?

I packed up and went back to the zoo, as we had started calling our area. When I got back Scott and Gary were drinking coffee, Tim wasn’t around. I asked about him, he still was asleep last time they looked. They asked where I had been.

“Over at the practice green, putting and talking to Arnold Palmer about the course.”

“Yeah, right, pull the other one,” was Gary’s response.

Scott just shook his head.

Tim came rushing out looking like he had slept in his clothes.

He grabbed a cup of coffee and said, “Coach wants us to leave now.”

Our tee time was not till eleven o’clock, but there was an opening ceremony we had to attend.

There were the usual opening remarks by tournament officials. Then a very nice talk by Mr. Palmer about the game of golf and how if you played it well and followed the rules, not the official rules, but the unwritten rules of etiquette in your everyday life they would do well by you.

While Mr. Palmer was talking I turned to Gary and winked, and mouthed, “Way.”

After the opening ceremony we went back to the zoo, Tim at Coaches insistence went to clean up and change clothes. The other guys and I sat and talked. We all had seen a neat movie that was just out, ‘Bridge over the River Kwai.’ We all agreed that the movie was great and the music better, but that we didn’t like the ending.

We also agreed that just because we didn’t like the ending that was the way of war. We all had heard enough stories from our families to know that fairness and sanity had nothing to do with war. We hoped our generation would never have to fight.

By the time Tim got his act together, it was time to head over the clubhouse for our start. As usual, I had butterflies until I stepped onto the tee box. Then it was time to play, not worry.

The first hole was a 395 yard straight away hole. It sloped about 285 yards out. If you hit further you would be in the rough. I hit a three wood which had a nice arc, landing about 250 yards down the fairway; rolling another 30. It was perfect placement. I had learned to ignore the other players, I was aware of them being there and taking turns, I just didn’t pay attention to their game or get emotionally involved with it.

My second shot hit the fringe in front of the green, then released and rolled within five feet of the pin. When it was my turn to putt I drained it. This put me one under.

The second hole was again a straight away of 385 yards. They had put bunkers to protect the fairway at 270 yards; a 250-yard drive would most likely roll into the sand trap. My solution was simple I just hit the ball in the air for 280 yards with another 20-yard roll. From there it was an easy up to the green.

Unfortunately, the green was in two tiers, the flag was on the upper tiers, my ball landed on the green and released. It rolled just enough to start up the slope to the second tier.

Halfway up it lost momentum and rolled backward, almost off the green. It took two putts to get it in, so I was still one under.

The third hole is a 200-yard par 3. It is simple to get there. The fairway is paralleled by a pond on the right but it is no problem if you keep the ball in play, which I did.

My ball landed on the dance floor and rolled within fifteen feet of the pin. This green was not flat and level, it had undulations which required a good read.

When I got up there I realized that the small rises and drops in the surface of the green were leaving some of it in shadow. This would slow the ball down.

Taking this into account and how the slight rise and drop would affect my putt I made it look easy. It was like the ball had eyes. I was now two under. As I walked away a gentleman in the crowd winked at me.

The next hole was a 466-yard par 4. I laced the driver and then put the ball on the green with a seven iron, I misjudged; I should have used a six iron. I ended up on the fringe of the green and it took two strokes to get the ball up and down. I was still two-under.

The 5th hole was a 450-yard par 4. It’s a slight dogleg to the left. I was lucky because there had been a slight breeze but it now had died down. I would’ve been hitting into it, but with just enough of an angle to cause a problem with drift.

I managed to move the ball 270 yards down the fairway then get on with a three-iron. Again the tight green had enough slope that it took me two putts. I was still two-under for the day.

Number 6 hole was a 231-yard par 3. My three wood came up short and I took another par, to remain two under.

Next was a 481-yard par 4. It was 240 yards to the creek. Again I took the easy out and just hit over it. I was on in two, but then the green was so contoured that I three-putted for a bogey. This left me one under.

The 8th hole was a tricky par 5 with a dogleg to the right. I carried the bunkers which were at 250 yards. I managed to keep the ball on the right side of the green on my second shot. This left me an easy two putts for a birdie and put me back to two under.

Nine was a 468-yard par 4 with a slight dog left to the left. I was on in two, but the sharp slope fooled me and I ended up short of the hole requiring a tap in for par.

The day was going nicely; it was a sunny day with almost no breeze now. I felt comfortable on the course. There was a little back up on the tenth tee. A lot of the guys were scarfing hotdogs but I chose to have a cup of water. No sense in taking a chance on indigestion on the course.

As we were getting ready to tee off I noticed an extremely pretty girl in the crowd. This was the first time ever for me that there were enough people watching that it could be called a gallery. Judy gave a little wave; I waved back but kept my mind on the game.

Ten is a 363-yard par 4 that rewards an accurate drive. I used a three-wood to put it out 245 yards, from there a six-iron to lay it on the green. It was an easy putt for birdie. I was now three under.

Number eleven was a 378 par four and that is exactly what I did, a par. There was a bunker at 270 yards but my long drive took it out of play.

The twelfth hole, a par 3 at 172 yards was a simple five-iron shot. I should have had a birdie but left it on the lip for a par. I was still three under.

Thirteen was a 516-yard par five. I cleared the sand trap at 245 yards and got on easy with a three-iron. I then two-putted for another birdie. I was now four under.

You must understand. I was not dwelling on my score. I was playing golf and actually having fun doing it. While I wasn’t paying attention to the other golfer’s game, I would say, “Nice shot, etc.”

It was all light banter, certainly no grief. Nobody else in my foursome had a birdie all day so I knew I was leading my foursome. The only leaderboard was at the clubhouse. There weren’t large galleries to make a lot of noise on good shots.

So I played golf without the pressure of knowing how the competition was doing.

Fourteen was the first hole of what they called Murderers Row. It was a 480 yard with a narrow fairway. I walked away with a par and felt good about it.

The fifteenth hole was almost my undoing. It’s a 468-yard par 4. The wind is right in your face. There had been no breezes all day. Just as I hit a booming drive the wind kicked in and carried the ball to the right cutting its distance down.

The ball rolled into a sand trap about 310 yards out. To add to the pain the ball rolled right up to the lip of the trap nearest the green. So I had almost 160 yards to go and had to hit the ball sideways out of the trap. I then put it on the green in a poor position and three-putted the hole for a double bogey. I was now two under.

All of a sudden I went from an exceptional round to a good round. I didn’t realize how much pressure that had put on me. I thought I was just nonchalantly going around the course.

That wasn’t the case at all. It was like the weight of the world came off my shoulders. I would do okay, but I didn’t have to be superman.

I then proceeded to par the rest of the holes to end up two under for the day. After I signed my card and checked the leaderboard I found I had the lead. The closest player would probably end up with an eighty-one! A local reporter asked Coach if he could talk to me, Coach sat in for the interview.

Chapter 47

The reporter started with, “How do you feel with having a score the same as Dick Mayer who won the open played on this course last year, and beating Cary Middlecoff’s score?”

This was all news to me.

“I feel good about having a nice round of golf on this excellent course. The club and the Ohio State High School Athletic Association should be complimented on putting on such a fine tournament.”

This local reporter was an amateur compared with the Hollywood sharks that interviewed John Wayne and Elvis Presley.

“Do you care to comment on how much better you did here today than Jack Nicklaus did last year? The young sensation from Columbus didn’t even make the cut with an eighty.”

“No I don’t care to comment, no course is the same from day to day, much less year to year.”

“Well, Rick what will you do tomorrow?”

“Is that a trick question? I will play golf tomorrow.”

The reporter grimaced and I was sure he would have liked to smack me.”

Coach had to cover his mouth with his hand.

I never saw what that reporter wrote, but my guess is that he wasn’t a fan.

Coach told me I had handled the interview well until that last question. I might want to tone it down.

It was now four-thirty in the afternoon and I had nothing to eat since early morning. The hot dog stand had closed so it looked like I was stuck till dinner which wouldn’t be till six o’clock. I was rescued by Judy King. She happened to be near the press tent when I came out.

I asked her if there was any place I could get something to eat. She went into the clubhouse and ordered a cheeseburger and fries to go, along with a Coke. She came out and sat with me at a picnic table while we waited for it to be ready. Judy played golf though her school didn’t have a girl’s golf team.

She wanted to know about my round today, shot by shot. Rather than bore her to death with that, I gave the high lights and what I thought of each hole. Actually, that helped, it was like lessons learned from the day. She really liked my story about Arnold Palmer and the shadows on the golf green.

I actually pulled my notebook and started taking notes on the course. Judy asked me if I referred to it at each hole. I laughed and told her.

“Actually I never look at it; it just helps my memory if I write it down. What you just helped me discover was that it also helps if I talk about the round and what went right and wrong.”

“What went wrong today?” Rick.

“The sand trap on fifteen caught me, or I caught it.”

“What have you learned?”

“Not to play on a course that has sand traps,” I said with a straight face.

“But, but oh you rat.”

I was saved by the waitress bringing out my sandwich. Judy had signed for it, but I gave a fifty-cent tip. I know a big spender, but I wanted to show off a little.

“Will you be able to eat dinner after eating this?”

“Sure that is not for at least an hour from now.”

“If I ate like that I would be like the Goodyear Blimp.”

“Well, obviously you don’t, because you look very good to me.”

“Oh, you say the nicest things.”

“Yes, he does,” said a voice over my shoulder, “I’m sorry to break this up but we have to get back to the zoo.”

It was Coach.

On the way back to camp Coach did remark, “She is an attractive young lady, it’s a shame she lives so far away.”

“Yes, it is,” I replied.

As a team, we sat down and talked about our experiences for the day. Coach made his own notes. I had my notebook out and made some entries based on what I heard. The other guys had their books out, but nothing was being written.

I made eye contact once with Coach after we had both written down that the green on the fifth hole had seemed slower to all of us. The other guys just sat there chatting whenever Coach wasn’t involving them in the recap.

Coach just gave a sad little smile and said quietly, “You can lead a horse to water.”

Our dining hall had spaghetti for dinner. The National Guard guys congratulated me on my day's score. After dinner I walked up near the clubhouse, unfortunately, there was no one to talk to, in other words, Judy wasn’t there.

I retired to our tent for the evening and started reading. It was about a man who was an ivory transporter down the Congo River. It was one of the more futile stories that I had ever read.

The Europeans were as brutal as the natives in central Africa. The whole story was a sad commentary on mankind. My sleep was restless that night, I’m certain it was the story.

Chapter 48

The next morning I awoke at my normal six a.m. and was glad that night was over. By the time I had finished my exercises and daily run the world looked better. Breakfast was bacon, scrambled eggs, and home fries. That along with toast and orange juice set me up for the day.

There was a bowl of apples set out. I snagged a couple for the course. Our foursomes tee time was nine o’clock, so we would be out on the course at lunchtime.

I limbered up on the driving range, but only did a dozen balls with each club. I spent most of my time on the practice green.

Soon enough it was time to tee off. The first hole was kind to me again. I played it the same as yesterday and had the same result, a birdie to start me out at one under.

The second hole was also a replay of yesterday. I landed on the lower portion of the green and ended up taking two shots to get the ball in the hole. So I was still one under.

I had a birdie on three yesterday but today it was par. The greens uneven surface was too much for me to read correctly and I left it six inches past the hole. A simple tap in left me still at one under. I was glad that Mr. Palmer wasn’t there to see my poor showing.

I made up for it on the fourth hole. Yesterday I had a par, today a birdie. I landed the ball in the center of the green and it had enough backspin to roll back to within two feet of the pin.

The fifth hole played exactly as it did yesterday. The green was small and so fast I didn’t want to take any chances. I walked away happy with a par and being two under.

On the 231 par 3, I hit the ball sweet this time. Yesterday I had been a little fat, getting under the ball too much, so it ended up in a high short arc, landing on the fringe. Today it wasn’t fat and left me a birdie opportunity, which I sunk to make me three under.

Yesterday I bogeyed the number seven hole. Today it was a par. Again on in two, but this time it was a two-putt for a par.

The eighth hole was becoming my favorite on the course. Last time I had a birdie. Today my approach shot to the green went where I wanted it to and left me three feet from the pin. That left enough distance to actually have to think about it, but I didn’t overthink. Well, the real truth is, I quickly addressed the ball and drained it like I knew what I was doing. This eagle put me five-under.

Nine was the same as yesterday, I was on in two. Then I ended up long and had a nervous twenty-five-foot putt to get the ball next to the hole, then tap in for par.

At the tenth guys were scarfing hotdogs. I was satisfied to have my apples with a drink of water. I looked for Judy, but neither she nor her parents were around.

It would be nice to report that I cruised through the back nine setting a course record. Instead, it got ugly real quick.

Ten must have given me a false sense of security because I birdied it in the same fashion as yesterday. I was now six-under for the tournament and on course for a sixty-six. Last year at the Open the best round recorded by a Professional was sixty-eight. I wish I hadn’t put that together.

I promptly bogeyed number eleven by a poor putt. There was no other way to put it, it was sloppy. So that was one stroke I had given back. It wasn’t to end.

It looked like things were back under control on twelve. I came back with a birdie and got the stroke back.

Today I didn’t clear the sand trap and was happy to get away with a par five.

Yesterday I was light-hearted at this point. Today I was tense as all get out.

Now I know why they call it Murderers Row.

The only problem with the fourteenth fairway was its narrowest. Yesterday I stayed in the fairway. Today the wind pushed me into the rough. It left a very poor, but a playable lie. That is how I played it, poorly. I came out of the rough low and fast and rolled across the fairway to the rough on the other side. I was playing Army golf, Left, Right, Left. That cost a stroke.

On the fifteenth, I came back with a par.

Sixteen was a par, looking good.

Seventeen another par, only one to go, sitting at a sixty-seven. Just keep cool and par eighteen.

My second shot on eighteen went into Death Valley. I just plain pushed it there. Getting out was horrible, I hit it right over the green. So I was laying three and not even on. That was a first for this tournament.

I attempted a pitch and run, but the ball didn’t release and roll. It just landed on the fringe and sat there. That was embarrassing. But embarrassed or not I had to putt out. I then promptly three-putted for a triple bogey.

I looked at the gallery and was thrilled that Judy King wasn’t there. My course record all of a sudden had turned into a mundane seventy.

It is amazing what your mind will do to you. I had just matched the two-day score of the winner of last year’s U.S. Open and I was mildly depressed. Coach Stone got me out of that mood real quick. He basically told me to get my head out of my rear end and act like a gracious winner.

Well, I didn’t have to pretend to be gracious very long. Enough people congratulated me that the act was soon dropped and my mood improved. I also felt so tired!

It was a shame our team wouldn’t be advancing to State. As an individual low score, I would advance, but as a team, we came in second behind Toledo Bowsher. The closing ceremonies were held and trophies handed out and we were ready to head home. I took one last look around for Judy King, but none of the King family was in sight.

We picked up our packed suitcases from where the tents had been. The National Guard had removed everything and was long gone.

Scott, Gary, and Tim were all nice to me and were happy that I won, but they were also depressed that their golf for the year was over.

We got home to our adoring fans. That is our families led by our personal cheerleader Mary, Pom Poms, and all. I don’t know who she had been working with, but she even had our official high school cheers memorized.

When I got home it was lights out, with no reading, I was exhausted. I wondered if I would see Judy in Columbus.

Chapter 49

Monday came quickly. To make matters worse it was raining buckets, cold nasty buckets. A cold front had come in during the night with a loud thunderstorm. I did my indoor exercises, but there would be no running this morning.

I went ahead and showered, again thinking about that darn shower head. There had to be some way you could adjust the direction of the showerhead, but how? It was all metal.

I had seen shower heads with a rubber hose attaching them to the water pipe. The problem with those was it took a hand to aim it in the correct direction. I wanted to be able to point the water where I wanted it, and just let it flow.

Having no inspiration on that problem front, I went down for breakfast. Since I couldn’t run I was there a half-hour earlier than usual. It was just Mum and Dad sitting with their coffee and tea. I sat down at the table and must have looked like I was still asleep. Dad said nothing; he just got up and poured me a cup of coffee.

I had tried coffee before and couldn’t stand the taste. I knew that caffeine would wake you up, so decided to try it again. It was steaming hot from the pot so I saucered some like I saw Dad do previously.

That is I poured some from my cup into the saucer; then blew on it to cool it down. I then sipped the cooler coffee. It still tasted terrible. I kept at it anyway. I needed to wake up.

While we were sitting there drinking our morning beverages the radio was playing. The national news came on. One of the stories was about the conviction last week of the ringleader of the largest modern cattle rustling operation in the West.

The story mentioned that the capture was by the Texas Rangers and had a brief interview with Mr. Walker. Thankfully my name didn’t come up.

I said, “Thank goodness I wasn’t named.”

The local news reported that the Bellefontaine High School golf team had won second place in the District tournament. Local golfer Ricky Jackson had the low individual score and would be advancing to the state championship this coming weekend in Columbus.

This is the first time that anyone from Bellefontaine has ever made the state playoffs, so let’s show support for Ricky this week. I groaned.

Dad chuckled, “Well Ricky, you are a big frog in a small pond, but when you’re in the big pond you don’t even count as small.”

He seemed to think he was funny.

Once he quit chuckling over his misguided wit, he continued, “I took the contract from Warner Brothers to our lawyer on Friday. He called a friend out in California who works with movie contracts. This is a standard contract they use.”

“There are no hidden tricks. You are being hired to perform in one movie at a given rate of twenty-five hundred dollars a week. They will provide transportation, food, and lodging.

As a minor, they will ensure your education by providing a tutor who will work with your school. They will also provide a chaperon as needed for going offset, as you will be in Hollywood for seven weeks.”

“Rick, it almost seems too good to be true, but it is true. Now all you have left is to go out there and do the job.”

I thought about what Dad was saying. I was going to be in a movie that sounded great but I was really being hired to work. So I was going to be working full time for seven weeks plus carrying a full school load. All of a sudden this didn’t sound like the good time that I thought it would be.

“So Rick do you want me to sign this on your behalf?”

“Yes Dad I do, but I can see that I will have to work for that money.”

“Speaking of the money, I suspect that it will be expensive out there. Your check will be mailed here. I will deposit it in a new savings account that will be for your money only. Our bank has agreed to set it up that you can draw two hundred dollars weekly from a branch in Los Angeles while you are shooting the movie.”

“The studio wants me to sign the contract and nondisclosure agreement, and mail them today via certified mail, and also let the school know that your tutor will be contacting them to see what you will need to study.”

They will be administering your tests on-site, so you won’t be behind when you get home. They really seem to have it together on this, but then they have been working with child actors for a long time.”

“Dad, what is a nondisclosure agreement?”

“We agree in writing not to tell anyone what the movie is about or share the script with anyone, our lawyer, Eugene Burke.”

Like if you had to share something about your hairdryer with someone you didn’t know really well. If they shared your idea you could win a lawsuit since they agreed not to share.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Rick, you will now have more money than I have ever had at one time in my life, what do you plan to do with it?”

“I’m not certain Dad, I will need to use some for my hairdryer invention, and I bet it is going to be more than I think before I have a product. Other than that I would like to see it used to better the family. What am I going to do, buy a limo and hire a driver to take me wherever I want to go? That seems stupid in Bellefontaine.”

A sudden thought of a girl in Columbus made me start to rethink the limo and driver.

My thought must have shown on my face because Dad asked what was going through my mind. I had never had too much of a problem sharing things with my parents. Of course, there was some guy stuff that would forever remain private, but mostly I talked freely.

When I started, “Well I met this girl.”

Mum, who had been sitting quietly all of a sudden sat up and paid close attention. I described Judy and how I had met her. Dad had to interrupt about Tom Mix and a damsel in distress.

Mum shushed him and asked more questions about Judy and her family. Only when she had every bit of information available and our interactions blow by blow was she satisfied. She should work for the FBI.

The end of the conversation was, “No you may not hire a car and driver to take you to Columbus, at least not without our permission. I would suggest that you two write to each other like planned and see if you even like each other!”

I noticed that Mum hadn’t closed the door completely; they just had to be consulted first.

Mum then went upstairs to begin the morning ritual of nagging Denny and Eddie out of bed. I noticed that somehow I had woken up. This coffee stuff must work, it still tasted bad. Mum had a pot of porridge on, so I helped myself, along with a glass of orange juice.

Dad was going to run us to school, but I had at least half an hour so I went out into the garage and reviewed my hairdryer project to see if I was missing anything. I couldn’t see anything I was missing but I think that was the definition of missing something.

I needed to experiment with the temperature and fan-forced. I was sort of stuck until the parts for the controller arrived. They should be in soon.

School was the usual Monday morning zoo. The poor janitors were mopping like crazy but falling behind. Everyone was bundled up. Even Eleanor Price was wearing so many layers she didn’t stand out.

When I came in the front door, “Go Bellefontaine” started. It followed me down the hall.

It was hard not to smile and wave to my fans. Before I got too carried away I remembered the guy who would whisper to the Roman Generals during their triumphal processions, “You’re only a mortal man.”

I don’t know if that ever really happened, but it was good advice.

I saw that Coach Stone had already had our trophies placed in the trophy case in the lobby of the main entry. I wondered if they would like my National Bull Riding Championship trophy, which was three times the size of any in the trophy case. Currently, it was in my bedroom and I was using it as a clothes rack.

Mum was complaining about me hanging my clothes on it. I used to hang my clothes up in my closet out in the hall of North Detroit Street. Now I had a closet in my bedroom and I wasn’t using it.

In homeroom, the announcements included the strong finish of the golf team and that I had advanced to the finals in Columbus this weekend.

I liked Rodney Humphreys's comment the most, “You play a wimpy sport, but at least you’re good at it, “Go Bellefontaine.”

I may be a wimp, but at least I was their wimp.

Chapter 50

Looking at Rodney something clicked. There is a pecking order established among boys around middle school. Rodney had been bigger than me, both in height and weight. I was now at least three inches taller and forty pounds heavier.

I filed that thought away for future consideration. I didn’t want to be a bully like him, but at the same time, I didn’t have to be bullied.

I also wondered if I could get fighting lessons somewhere, I knew they had golden glove boxing in Columbus, and in the movies, they showed mysterious techniques like Judo.

In a small town, we had none of that. A fight would be a pushing, shoving match with a black eye and bloody nose thrown in for good measure. Fighting lessons were something else to think about, maybe when I was in California for the movie.

Classes were almost incidental to the day. I attended, handed in the work required, knowing I had the next day’s assignments finished. During class where I could, I read or worked problems ahead. My teachers knew I was doing this and seemed to be okay with it.

On a rare occasion when we were officially working on problems, I would raise my hand for help. The help I was requesting was on future lessons, but help was given with no comment.

Study Halls were spent writing essays that would never be turned in. I had one interesting learning experience several weeks ago, my world history teacher Mr. MacMillan asked me to see him after class. I wondered what I had done. It was what I wasn’t doing.

The essays I had been handing in were a common variety of high school plagiarism. You would go to the referenced text and copy the words, always citing that text in your bibliography. Ninety-nine percent of all essays would only have one reference in the bibliography.

He asked me if I was ready to take it to the level demanded in college. I told him yes while having absolutely no idea what he was talking about. He was ready for me, he pulled out a paper he had done in college; he also had the reference texts. He had me read the text, then what he had written.

He had written in his own words what he thought the message was and “cited” specific statements in the text to support his assertions. I see where he used citations from several books to form an argument against what was being taught.

So besides having the title of the book, author, publisher, and dates he would have the specific page and paragraph identification. This was a whole new level!

He told me, “Rick you show great promise as a student and scholar, please try this method. It will not hurt your grade in any way I promise. If nothing else it will give you a firmer understanding of the material.”

I did try it and was blown away by what I was seeing. Now having to think about what the author had written I was questioning the facts and conclusions. This led me to look at the author’s bibliography.

Very quickly I learned to have little faith in poorly researched work. If the book had no bibliography I didn’t even bother but would hunt up other books.

This took time, so much time that I quit trying to do every essay question at the back of the text. I spent my time doing a quality job on one issue. This spread out to my other classwork, where ever there was an essay type question.

I was asked about this change by several teachers, I referred them back to Mr. MacMillan.

Miss Bales told me, “It’s a shame we don’t have a grade higher than ‘A-plus,’ you would receive it.”

She continued, “This is college-level work, I have read in my professional journal that there is a move underfoot to have advanced classes in high school for which you can receive college credit; your work would qualify.”

Yeah, I had a fat head for the rest of the afternoon that day. Mary took care of it when I walked in the door that evening when she came out with, “Hola, gran hermano.”

My four-year-old sister was speaking Spanish! I recognized the Hello, but not the rest. I asked her, she giggled she explained,

“Hello, big brother.”

At least she didn’t tell me I had a big nose as I feared.

I asked her where she was learning Spanish, “From Mrs. Hernandez next door silly.”

I immediately asked Mum who Mrs. Hernandez was.

“She just moved in with her husband’s brother’s family the Wingers, her husband is in jail in Cuba and she had to flee the country.

“Why is her husband in jail?” I inquired

“I don’t know the ins and outs, but Cuba is run by a dictator by the name of Batista, there are several groups trying to overthrow him. Her husband was arrested, she happened to be in Miami when it happened, so she didn’t go back. I guess she was involved also. Now she is here working on her teaching certificate, so she can get a job teaching Spanish in High School.

“We don’t have a Spanish course in Bellefontaine.”

“We will next year.”

That was interesting, maybe I could hire her to tutor me after the golf season was finished, then take Spanish with a head start. That conversation about learning Spanish was several weeks ago, now I had to get through the school day.

You could tell things had changed at lunchtime before the golf team had joined Tom and me at our table. Today, Scott a senior was at another table with his classmates. Even the conversation at the table had changed; Gary, Tim, and Tom are sophomores, their conversation was about tenth-grade classes. I was feeling a little left out but was content to listen.

I did look around at the other tables, particularly the ones with freshmen. There is no way that I would fit in with them. They all seemed so childish. Not that I was that more mature than them, their interest was different.

Who cared what the latest Pez dispenser looked like? Who was Grayson that got Tom Dooley hung and that deep philosophical question, “Why did he stab her with his knife?”

What I thought was interesting and funny had changed without me even noticing.

I got together with Coach Stone after school, we went out to the country club; he had his map of the Ohio State Scarlet Course there. It was still raining so there would be no outside work today. The Scarlet Course was interesting but had been laid out in favor of the long hitter, so I should be able to get by the sand traps on the course.

They had a lot of sand traps but Coach an OSU alumnus told me that when they were originally put in during the 1940’s they were deep, but had been allowed to deteriorate over the years and now were fairly flat with little in the way of lips. We came up with a strategy for each hole.

Coach told me there was no sense in coming out here tomorrow if the rain didn’t let up. Even then it would only be to get in some driving range work. This was the latest in the year they had ever had the state championship and he hoped the course would dry out by Saturday.

When I got home there was wonderful news. It was in the form of a certified letter from the Texas State Cattle Commission. Mum had saved it for me to open. It was the reward check for the capture and conviction of the rustlers. It was for eighty-five thousand dollars as promised.

Dad got home from the rail yard while I was still dancing around waving the check. He asked Mum to fix some coffee while he cleaned up. We had to talk about what was going to happen now. The other kids were watching TV so we had the kitchen to ourselves.

Dad started, “First of all Rick this is your money; you knew it was coming, have you thought through what you would like to do with it?”

“I have thought about it, I would like to keep some for my own personal use, some for my hairdryer project and the bulk of it for the family.”

“How would you break that down?”

“Dad, I would like to keep five thousand for me, ten thousand for the hairdryer project, and the rest for the family housing business.”

“You’re willing to give us seventy thousand dollars?” inquired Mum.

“I consider it an investment in the future of our family. You and Dad won’t be dependent on the railroad, my brothers and sisters will have a chance to go to college. Remember I am going to make another seventeen thousand five hundred dollars from the movie.”

“Also since you have set up a company that I will own if anything happens to you, in the long run, it is really an investment in my own future. I know nothing about the stock market, but I do know how hard my parents work.

“Money is not an issue right now. That is unless you will let me buy a limo and hire a driver,” I said the last with a smile.

“Well no limo, so we might as well take the money,” rejoined Mum.

Chapter 51

We proceeded to drink coffee and tea while talking about how to go forward. Dad would deposit the check, fifteen thousand in the savings account set up for me, the rest in the business checking account he had opened. Without moving so fast that a bidding war was started, he would buy the ten rental duplexes as planned.

Mum and Dad were developing a written business plan. They estimated that a duplex would cost twelve thousand dollars; to buy ten would be one hundred and twenty thousand. Putting twenty percent down would be twenty-four thousand dollars.

They figured it would take about two thousand a unit to bring them into condition. That would be another twenty thousand. So they would have forty-four thousand dollars invested.

That would leave twenty-six thousand in the bank. A man with a very good job would earn eight thousand a year.

I had a thought, “Dad you could hire two people to do the work for you if they had the right skills you could save a lot of money and have the units ready to rent a lot faster.”

“Rick, I’ve thought seriously about that. I have been studying for the Ohio State Contractors examination. If I am a licensed contractor it will make everything go easier. I think it will take a year to get the first ten purchased, brought into shape, and rented out.”

“At the same time we will be watching to see how many other units we can work within Bellefontaine, we may have to buy some in Urbana or Kenton.”

“The quicker the better, I read in the Examiner the other day that the recession is about over and the economy is going to take off.”

“Well, that’s what your godfather wants us to think,” Dad said with a scowl.

He really didn’t like Ike.

“Now Jack,” said Mum.

It was that tone of voice that said settle down or else. Dad settled down.

“Things do seem to be better locally, so maybe he is onto something,” Dad added.

About that time Mary came in, she asked, “Madre ¿puedo ver el espectáculo que quiero?”

Mum never blinked, “Si, Denny and Eddie, it’s Mary’s turn to choose the program.”

“You both speak Spanish?”

Mum laughed, “No but it has been the same question every day for a week.”

“I would like to speak to Mrs. Hernandez about tutoring me in Spanish if that is all right with you.”

“That’s fine but why do you want to learn Spanish rather than German or French?”

“You know I do a lot of research on my essays for World History. History suggests that as a population makes more income the birth rate drops. If that is the case in my lifetime we will have to import workers. Where is a source of plentiful cheap labor?”

I went on, “I know President Eisenhower deported a lot of the Mexican workers, but that is a problem that won’t go away. It may be handy for me to speak Spanish. Besides you never will know when Elvis and I may want to go back for more wine, women, and song.”

Mum shook her fist at me, “You are going to get it boyo.”

She is English, where is she coming up with Irish terms? I asked her.

“Your great grandfather was Irish, I can remembering him calling my Dad that when I was young.”

“Your Dad was a grown man by then.”

“You’re always children to your parents.”

I had plenty to mull over that night, but I still did my nightly reading. It would be neat to have a lens giving you almost superpowers. The grey suit sounded sort of plain. I think Superman had the right idea. I would chase the Boskone’s all over the galaxies.

Tuesday morning the rain had stopped, but there was standing water in our yard. I was able to run. I hoped the Ohio State University golf course would dry out. Breakfast was quiet. I tried coffee again and it didn’t seem as bad as yesterday. I was drinking it without cream or sugar. I was going all the way.

Tom met me for the walk to school. Eleanor Price came out in front of us. She was wearing a short ski jacket; I noticed something about her dress.

“Hey, it’s snowing down south.”

She turned around and asked, “Is my slip really showing?”

Both Tom and I assured her it really was, not just a little but a lot. She went back home for an adjustment. Before we got to school she caught up with us.

“Thanks, guys, I would’ve been teased all day.”

I don’t know why but there was something a little exciting about a girls slip showing, it sort of made you think of everything else under there.

It seemed every teacher in the world decided to have a pop quiz on Tuesday. I had one in every class but Latin. She waited till Wednesday. They weren’t a problem, actually, they helped my schedule. I flew through the exams, turned my papers in, and then got to work on my future assignments.

Since I would work every problem in the back of my English and Math books I was doing more work than most of the other students. By using my class, study hall time, and bus rides for golf, I hadn’t taken any work home in the last six weeks. I did take the time in study hall to write a letter to Judy.

I met Coach at the pickup spot for the ride to the country club. We rode out and I worked the driving range. He watched my swing for any glitches. Since I was banging my driver out over 250 yards and even to close to 300, I didn’t think I had anything to be concerned about.

This yardage was with no roll, the ground was still wet. I bet they would have to dig about half of the balls out of the ground if they could see them.

Coach and I talked about why my drives went so far.

“Rick with your height you are like a giant human lever. Your timing is a natural wonder. You also have another advantage that most golfers don’t seem to have. Your exercising has given you enormous core strength; this provides power to your swing.”

“Your swing looks easy, but it really whips through the ball. When you watch your next pro tournament notice the physical condition of the golfers. They aren’t in bad shape. They just aren’t in great shape.”

I hadn’t given it any thought, but I could see what he meant. I wondered what other muscle groups I should develop to increase my strength. More importantly, how could I find out what to do and what equipment I needed after I knew which ones needed work.

Coach continued, “The way you play there is no reason that you can’t turn pro right out of high school.”

Now there was something out of the blue. I knew I was good, but I had never thought about earning a living playing golf. I liked the game, but I wasn’t certain I liked it that much.

Coach also told me, “There will be a pep rally for you Thursday before we leave for Columbus, just so you know.”

“Oh good, I love being the center of attention.”

This got Coach laughing, he was well aware that I hated it.

When I got home there had been a phone call from Bush Electric that my electrical components had arrived. It was too late for me to pick them up.

Dinner was fun that night; we had pancakes, with Dad cooking. For some reason, it was always like a little party. Normal sit at the table rules were suspended. While Dad was trying to get ahead of us, we were allowed to take our plates to him.

Between the four of us, he didn’t get caught up till we were all full. I noticed Denny didn’t try to out-eat me tonight.

I made several different sketches of how I wanted the insides of the hairdryer to fit together. I needed something to attach the basic parts together as a framework. The framework would have screw holes to attach the motor, fan, and controls.

Once they were attached to the framework I would attach the housing to the framework. The heating element would stick out of the framework and the barrel snap-fit around it.

The end result would look like a gun with a grip, and a barrel. The body would have to be much fatter than any pistol but it would still be only about four inches wide.

That night I started another book, this one about some Russian brothers. I gave up, I didn’t like any of the characters in the book and thought that if they died they would all rot and stink up the place. So take that!

Chapter 52

Wednesday came clear and cool. It was definitely fall. The ground was drying out, so I had hopes for good rounds on Saturday and Sunday. At breakfast, Dad was excited about several properties he had looked at. He wanted Mum and me to go back with him for a second look at them after school today.

Not that I could tell him anything useful about their condition, but I could see that he just wanted to show them off to us. Of course, we said yes.

School was a typical day with only one exception. At lunch, a senior girl Rita Harrison sat with Tom and me. She fawned all over me. For a senior girl to even notice a freshman was alive was amazing, to flirt as openly as she was, ran up all sorts of red flags.

I met Coach at our usual spot and he suggested we skip practice tonight. If I wasn’t ready now, I would never be. He did have a present for me. It was a white cardigan type sweater with a sports letter.

I was now a letterman for golf! I had never given it a thought but I was now officially a jock. Rodney Humphreys would be sure to let me know that it wouldn’t equal a real sports letter like football or basketball. What a poor kid, having to put everyone else down, to build himself up.

Coach told me to be sure to wear it to school tomorrow. I told him I would. It would’ve taken an act of Congress to stop me from wearing it.

I got home early and Dad was ready to go. I did talk him into stopping at Bush Electric to pick up my parts. After that, we toured the duplexes with John Tapp of Tapp Realty. They all just looked like houses to me.

Dad was pleased with the general condition and thought he could fix them up for less than he had budgeted.

He told Mr. Tapp, “I like what I see, let’s put in offers for all of them. I will talk to Tom Harrison down at the bank and start the ball rolling.

The Harrison name caught my attention.

“Dad does Mr. Harrison have a daughter named Rita?”

“Yes he does, Rita, I met her when I picked up her dad to go to an AA meeting.”

“Rita started flirting with me at lunch today, she is a senior and they never do that.”

“Hmm, right after a large deposit, I would tread lightly there son.”

“I guess that is the danger of living in a small town.”

“It is, but he had no right to go spreading our business around, even with his family.”

“Jack, just don’t get too excited, after all, you are about to ask him for a lot of money,” put in Mum.

“I won’t but it just bothers me.”

In the car on the way home, Mum brought up, “You don’t have to say anything. John Tapp heard it all. It will be all over the business community in hours.”

“You’re right Peg; it couldn’t have gone better if I planned it that way.”

There was a letter from Judy waiting for me; the biggest news was that she had talked her parents into inviting me and Coach Stone to dinner at the OSU Clubhouse on Friday evening. I would see Judy!

Before dinner, I had my soldering iron heated up and was making the control circuit as Mr. Robinson had sketched out. One thing he had added that I never thought of was a bimetallic switch which would turn the unit off if it reached one hundred and forty degrees. It would prevent people from getting burned.

There was also a fuse in the circuit that would trip if there was an electrical overload. I would also have a guard on the front of the barrel so that kids couldn’t stick their fingers in and burn them on the heating element.

At dinner that night I asked my parents if they knew any Engineers that could help me with the layout and do drawings of the internal assembly of the unit. They didn’t know anyone off the top of their heads, but Dad knew Jim Willis the plant manager at Rockwell who had plenty of Engineers working for him. He would give him a call after dinner.

I had shown my letterman sweater for my family. I wore it to dinner and it was noticed immediately. Every one admired it, but my brothers kept looking at each other and giggling, while Mary practically danced in her seat. Something was up, but I couldn’t even begin to guess.

Dad called Mr. Willis as promised, but he had no engineers whom he would recommend. This said something about his engineering staff.

I was too wound up; I couldn’t read later so I just listened to records. When it was lights out I still lay there for a long time thinking of everything I had going on.

Thursday the weather was beautiful again. The weather forecast was for it to remain this way for the rest of the week. We were having an Indian summer.

I wore my letterman sweater to school; even Eleanor Price made a positive comment, “Looking Good, Go Bellefontaine.”

I must have heard, “Go Bellefontaine” five thousand times that day. There were about six hundred students in our high school.

Even Mr. Gordon got in on it with his morning announcements over the intercom system. That was right after he announced the pep rally immediately after the lunch period.

Rita Harrison sat at our table and tried to makeover me at lunch, but so many kids came up and wished me luck that she really didn’t have a chance.

I ignored her as much as I could, she would figure out I’m not interested. Well actually since she is a girl, I’m interested, but not under these circumstances.

I always thought the gym was noisy up in the bleachers. Down on the floor, it was pandemonium. (I love learning big words when I read.) They presented the team trophy for second place in the District. This was the furthest any team from Bellefontaine had got in a state tournament.

It was like the sweet sixteen in basketball. After that, I was singled out for my trophy for the lowest score for the tournament.

The cheerleaders had been leading cheers and jumping around, waving there Pom Poms before the presentations started. Now Coach Stone announced we will now have a cheer led by the golf team's own cheerleader.

Mary ran out in a BHS cheerleader’s uniform and Pom Poms! I looked around and saw my family standing front and center yelling with everyone else.

Mary did us proud. Well if she got one of the cheers wrong there was so much noise, no one would know. Then something horrible happened. They handed me the microphone.

“Thank you very much for this show of support. I will do my best to bring home the State Championship for the Bellefontaine Chieftains. I would like to thank Coach Stone for his training and support this year, my teachers for their support, my teammates for pushing me on, the Logan County Country Club for use of its facility, my parent's support and most of all, the littlest cheerleader, my sister Mary. Go Bellefontaine!”

That worked, I think I got everyone. Maybe I should go into politics, Nah.

I carried Mary off the floor with me, so she wouldn’t get crushed. Now I knew what was up at dinner last night. They were all in on it.

Coach drove his car since it was only the two of us. He had packed our clubs yesterday. We made a quick stop at our house to get my airline garment bag. It was perfect for a short trip like this. Mum and Dad and the kids beat us home, so I was able to get hugs and well wishes. Mum took pictures.

Mary, of course, had on her black sweater with BHS on the front and an Indian Chiefs Head on the back. I wondered how they got one in her size on short notice but didn’t have a chance to ask.

During the ride over to Columbus, I told Coach about the dinner invitation. Judy wrote that information would be waiting for us at the information desk. I always got a kick out of going through New California on the way. They had a statue of a Union Soldier in the middle of the intersection on the main and only crossroads.

In Europe, it would’ve been used as a roundabout, but they had only widened the road a little, so it was more of a shift lane deal. The poor soldier was in a circle with a low iron fence about ten feet in diameter. Why some drunk hadn’t taken it out, I didn’t know.

From there it was through Dublin a known speed trap, then down River Road to Fishinger Road to Upper Arlington. There we got a glimpse of the OSU golf course on our left. From there we went to the Visitors Center at the University.

No camping this week. They had a check-in desk and there was a message from Mr. King; he would see us in the morning at the tournament sign in.

I roomed with a kid from Akron; the only thing I remembered about him later was that he could fart louder than anyone I had ever met. His first name is John, which I thought was appropriate. Luckily they didn’t smell that strong. Of course, I stayed as far from the guy as I could when in the room but the room wasn’t that big.

Chapter 53

In the morning I got out of the room of Rolling Thunder as I thought of it, as soon as I could. It was a beautiful day, so I had a long run around campus. It is a really nice campus and I would consider going to school here. I wondered how their School of Engineering was rated. More research to do. The only engineering schools I had heard of by reputation were MIT and Georgia Tech.

I met up with Coach in the visitor’s center restaurant as arranged. The whole place was set up like a hotel. After a nice breakfast, we went over to the golf course, our first stop was the valet to unload my clubs, then parking. We retrieved clubs and went to the, you guessed it, white pavilion to register. I bet someone was making a living off of renting tents. It would have never occurred to me.

Mr. King was there helping but when he saw us, he waved us over.

“I’m glad you made it, a certain young lady would make my life not worth living if I didn’t get Rick to dinner this evening.”

Coach just shook his head, and murmured, “Young love.”

Mr. King laughed and said, “Ain’t it grand.”

I wish they didn’t make fun of me, I knew it wasn’t love, we hardly knew each other. I would use words like infatuation or maybe even lust, but not love. I decided not to say anything about what I thought it really was, especially lust. I may be slow and oblivious at times, but not completely stupid.

Coach and I walked the course. I saw what he meant about the sand traps, they had been deep potholes at onetime that would be a nightmare. They had been allowed to fill in over the years and the lips guarding the green had crumbled so you could do a pitch and run to the green. Someday they may restore the course, but I wasn’t complaining today. This course right now was made for my game.

I could see how The Golden Bear could tear this course up. My long game was longer than his, but not by much. He would kill me on the greens. It would still be fun to play with him one of these days. I put that on my mental list of things to do.

I no sooner thought this as we walked off eighteen to return to the practice area when Jack Nicklaus walked by. Of course, he didn’t know me from Adam, so he kept going. Heck even if he knew me he probably would’ve kept going.

Though I had heard he was a really nice guy, so maybe he would’ve said, “Hi,” as he kept moving.

The practice round on the 7455-yard long Par 71 Scarlet course went well, as usual, I didn’t keep score. I was trying to understand how the course played. None of the sand traps guarding the normal landing zones for drives would cause a problem. I would just hit past them. I could roll through the traps surrounding the greens.

If my putting was on, I should do well. This course didn’t give me the same fear that Inverness did, now that was a course you had to respect. This one was like a down on its luck brother.

Thinking “down on its luck brother,” made me think of my Uncle Wally. That gave a pause for thought; even someone like Wally could cause problems. I better not get too big for my britches as Mum would say.

We went back to our rooms and cleaned up for dinner. I had brought my cowboy suit with me this time. Mum had taken it to the tailor to have the pants let down. The coat was a little tight, so I wouldn’t be wearing it much longer, but it would do.

My shirt had cool looking pearl buttons and I wore a bolo tie with a turquoise slide. Of course, I wore my alligator skin boots, belt with the large rodeo championship buckle the size of a small dinner plate, and black hat.

I had several calls of, “Hey Tex,” in the lobby. I had even put my Texas Ranger badge and I.D. in my pocket, more to show off if I could. I was dressed to impress. Coach just shook his head when he saw me.

We made a small stir when entering the restaurant. I removed my hat and followed the hostess to our table. There were comments from other diners as we passed through. None bad, just like, who is that guy. The Kings were already seated and Judy had saved me a seat next to her. She was dressed in a white blouse with a black pencil skirt and a nice set of pearls. I said, “It is my pleasure to sit next to you Ma’am,” in my best western drawl which was atrocious to say the best.

Then the most wonderful thing happened. Two small kids came up and asked for my autograph. They were a brother and sister eight and ten years old. The younger sister told me that I had better be nice to Annette, and not to try to kiss her again!

This opened the conversation up at the table. I worked very hard not to have it all about me as dinner proceeded. Judy didn’t contribute much except for an occasional question. Most of the questions came from her parents. I started to get the impression they didn’t approve of me being allowed to roam last summer.

In an attempt to change the conversation I told Mr. King I was a customer of his. Of course, he wanted to know what I was buying, which led to a description of my control unit, which in turn lead to a description of my hairdryer idea. He liked the electronics, the women liked the hairdryer.

I told him that I had breadboarded a control unit, but would have to hire a professional electrical engineer to lay it out, so that it would work, and that it could be manufactured. He wanted to know where I had heard about manufacturability versus engineering.

I told him how Mr. Robertson my merit badge instructor talked about engineers designing things; then throwing it over the wall to manufacturing without any idea of what they designed could be made to specification or cost-effectively.

Mr. King sighed, “I’ve over five hundred engineers on staff, I wish they could understand that concept. I fight that battle every day.”

He continued, “We have some sharp junior engineers that do some moonlighting, would you be interested in paying one of them to design what you need?”

“Sure as soon as we get a nondisclosure agreement signed,”

I learned about NDA’s with my movie contract, Mum, Dad and I had to sign one not to disclose the movie plot or script.”

That brought Mr. King up short.

He gave me a long look and said, “You aren’t just a pretty face are you.”

Now how does a guy respond to that? I just smiled. Coach in the meantime was following the conversation like a tennis match.

Coach now put in, “He hasn’t been tested but most of the teachers at school think Rick has a genius-level I.Q.”

I just smiled some more, I wasn’t about to dig my hole any deeper. In the meantime, Judy was beaming like her pet puppy had performed an amazing trick. Even her mother looked approving. Maybe I had dodged the parental kiss of death.

It was a good sign that after dinner Judy and I were allowed to go for a short walk alone. When we were out of sight she took my hand and we talked as we walked. When we got to a more secluded area, but still near the clubhouse she said, “You aren’t allowed to kiss Annette but you are allowed to kiss me.”

I was so quick into that kiss that we bumped teeth. I backed up, went slower, and got it right. It wasn’t a fancy French kiss or anything like that, just a pressing of the lips. That apparently was the correct level of kissing for a first kiss. She gave me a hug and we started back.

We all said our goodnights, and I was wished good luck in the tournament. It wasn’t until we were in the car that Coach told me.

“You might want to wipe that lipstick off, Tex.”

Even my roommate John didn’t bother me when I got back to my room. Everything was bright in the world. Love, infatuation, lust, whatever I was enjoying the feelings.

I was still feeling that way two days later, I had beaten the Scarlet course at Ohio State University into submission. I played a round at 67 followed by a 63. I positively destroyed the course with my 130 for the two rounds, not a course record but close.

My nearest competitor was Tom Logan from Athens who shot 139 for the tournament. The trophy was presented to me by a previous champion, Jack Nicklaus, who was almost as big as the rodeo one. He even said he would look forward to playing me someday.

I wondered if I could keep the trophy as another clothes rack or would it go to school. I suspect Mum would make certain the school would have it.

I saw Judy in the gallery on Sunday, but her parents whisked her away immediately after the awards, so all I got was a small hug and congratulations from her. I had been hoping for another kiss. Life was still good and the ride home was fun. I think Coach enjoyed my win more than I did.

He did enlighten me a little when he told me, that while he wasn’t looking for a job, it wouldn’t hurt to have me on his resume. He asked me if I had given any thought to turning Professional since he had mentioned it.

I told him probably not, there are too many things I want to do in life. Golf was fun, but it wasn’t all-consuming to me. Getting up every day to play golf would be work. I didn’t think I wanted to turn my play into work.

Coach came back with, “Just think of the money, you can win a year’s salary from winning one tournament they pay up to eight thousand dollars for first place.”

That’s when I enlightened Coach about my income.

“Coach I made twenty-five thousand dollars last year catching two bank robbers, eighty-five thousand dollars breaking up a gang of rustlers. I will make over seventeen thousand dollars next spring for seven weeks of work in the movies. Money is not an issue with me.”

The only new news I was giving him was about the movie work and that would come out soon anyway. I tried to not even think about the gold in the safe deposit box.

“You are only fifteen; I wonder where you will be when you are twenty or forty. By then I bet you will know the President whoever it will be. I thought about telling him who my godfather was, but I didn’t know if he had a heart condition. The rest of the trip home was quiet.

He dropped me off at my house. It wasn’t late, just after dinner so everyone was up. Mary did her cheering. The trophy said it all.

To Be Continued in Book 2 School Days: The Richard Jackson Saga

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