AFTER U of O chapter 55

After the semester was completed in 1961, I returned to the shoe store full time. I informed my boss that I would not be returning to college in the fall and planned to stay on with Kinney’s. He was delighted. I was unsure, but did not know what else to do. When I put my mind to it and the traffic was reasonable, I made pretty good money.

It was a good summer. I mostly hung out with the boys from Kinney’s and continued to resist Chet and Donald’s insistence that I move in with them. I spent enough nights at their place as to feel like I had moved in. I could have managed, but it would have also broken my mothers heart. I loved her dearly, but she was a possessive woman and used emotional manipulation to keep control. I saw no real reason to fight the big fight yet.

I did quite well and shortly after the back to school shoe rush was over I spoke to my dad about co-signing a loan to buy a new car. I loved the ’49 Pontiac, but believed I was an up and coming man in the world of finance and wanted a new car. Did I need it? That was very doubtful, but when you are 19 who can distinguish between need and want.

I had the money for a good down payment and settled on a brand new burgundy Ford Fairlane 500 with genuine imitation leather seats. I loved that car and believed I was on my way. To where, I was unsure.

Parked in front of my house across the street from Webster school

In September Rich moved on to take his own store and Chet was scheduled to leave anytime. I was chosen as the next assistant manager over Donald. That left a bitter taste in his mouth as he had been there full time much longer than me, but the boss told him that he liked him and hoped he would stay, but he was still to shy to take on that position. Surprisingly, he stayed as the senior salesman. Within a week, Chet came back. Over the weekend he ran off and got married to the part-time girl at the front desk. He was 19 she was 16. He turned down the management position and asked to stay on because his new wife did not want to leave Omaha and her family. As it turned out, her mother liked Chet and gave permission for the marriage. The staff was basically back together. He never seemed bothered that I was the assistant manager. He was in love. His wife quit school and became the full time front desk gal.

By fall I was not attending church and had nothing to do with past friends. Chet and I were fending off an old gay dude from a men’s clothing store that had taken a liking to us and kept coming by the store offering us the opportunity to drive his corvette and come to his place for some cards and fun. Chet took him up on driving the car and got even more harassed. Not me, I turned it all down. Finally, Chet’s wife met the man in front of the store and told him in no uncertain terms to leave her husband alone. Apparently he did not know Chet was married. Whoops! Chet heard about that.

We did not pick up another full time salesman as the three of us could handle the store on our own. We did hire a part-time student from Grace Bible Institute for Monday and Thursday nights and Saturdays. He was a good salesman, but would do nothing but sell. He would not run stock or dust shoes or straighten displays. We had a night when no one was coming in and all he would do was stand around. I got so mad I fired him on the spot.

Later my boss came down and asked about where the kid had gone. I told him what happened and he told me I had no right to fire anyone without consulting with him and I was to go out and find him and bring him back. Embarrassing, but I did find him at the greasy spoon next door, I apologized and he came back. All he had done was order some of their terrific chili and appeared to be waiting for me. Two weeks later my boss fired him for standing around when there were no customers. Vindicated. I tried not to gloat, but I smiled as the kid left (he was actually older than me).

My biggest problem as the new assistant manager had to do with troubleshooting. Part of my job was to handle all the returns and complaints. I liked the task, but struggled with some of the reactions. I was 19 but looked 16. Few could believe I was who I said I was. Some even laughed. However, eventually they all had to deal with me. I had a harder time treating fairly those who looked down at me. Imagine that. I managed because I knew it was true.

In early October my friend Al came into the store. I was glad to see him, but surprised. He had never been in the store before. He lived on the far south side of town and had no reason to come downtown. He invited me to come on a hayride later in the month with some of the kids from the Tabernacle. I was unsure, but liked Al so said I would.

The day of the ride came on an extremely busy and rainy Saturday. I was also to close. When done I went home flopped on my bed and completely forgot about Al who said he would pick me up. That is until he knocked on the door and my mother said. “Al is here.” I was trying to figure out why. It was raining and surely the hayride had been canceled. “A group is getting together just to talk and have fun together, why don’t you come.” Like I said, I liked Al, did not want his long drive to be wasted, so changed and went.

It was a rather small group, as I remember. Most were strangers. There were two or three from Grace Bible Institute. I already had a negative idea about that school. The conversation was good. They got talking about how they came to know God and the struggles they had in that walk. I did not participate, but found it interesting and sincere. At 9:30 the “Grace” gang said they had to go home. They had to be in by 10:00. I don’t know how they got there or who offered to take them back. I think it was Al. At any rate, a girl named LaDonna also asked for a ride at that time and when she said where she lived it was only a few blocks from where I lived, so I tagged along.

It had stopped raining and when LaDonna got out, I asked her if we could walk and talk for a while. We did and she mostly confronted me on my faith and why I had turned away. I suspect we walked an hour or two. It was all Christian talk. As I walked home I began to think about what was said. In bed I looked through my Bible and prayed that God would show Himself to me. It felt like He said, believe me. I decided that night that I would believe what God said in His word and take it as face value. I would stop looking for some explosive feeling. I felt like that was how I would know I was a Christian. That is what I had seen happen in the past. I was sure there needed to be strong feelings to convince me.

I began to act on the Word. I never wavered. I returned to church and for some reason, I loved it. I reconnected with some friends and began to see them again. Several weeks later one of the guys at worked noticed I had stopped swearing and commented. I didn’t even notice. That was the first sign to me, that there had been a change.  

I also began to hang out with LaDonna more often. She was a terrific person and delightful to be with. She invited me to her apartment for some great meals. She was a pianist at the church and was exceptional. I really enjoyed being with her. The problem for me was she was 25 and ready to get married and I was 19 and not the least bit interested. The subject kept coming up and the more it did the more nervous I got.

Right after the new year my boss said Kinney’s was ready to give me my own store and I could go just about any place in America that I wanted to go. They were on track to open 500 hundred new stores by the following Christmas. I had two weeks to decide and suggest a place. If available, I could move to that area. I admit I loved the idea but was still very shy and fearful of taking off on my own. As long as I could decide I wanted to go to California. The following Sunday, after church, I asked Al if he would like to move to California with me. I would have a job immediately and could support us both until he got a job. “No, I can’t go. I’m going to Bible school.” You could have knocked me over with a feather. All I could think of was St. Paul and it seemed like everyone at the Tab headed to Bible school was going there. “I’m going to Canada. Why don’t you come with me?” I guess I had some spontaneity because I said, “Sounds like fun.”

He was scheduled to leave in about two weeks, and I moved into high gear to get transcripts, recommendations and whatever else was needed to be accepted and leave with Al. I gave my two-week notice and we began to plan together. We would take my car and he wanted to visit his aunt and uncle in Denver on the way. If that was on the way, it was fine with me. Everything came through just a day or two before we were to leave. I needed to tell LaDonna, but I was a coward. There was a group gathering that night and she would find out then, I believed we would both tell the group we were leaving at that time. Bad decision

I think most knew Al was leaving, but my departure was a shock, especially to LaDonna. She appeared crushed. I knew I had screwed up. We talked some that night. But resolved little. This would be the end of our relationship. I knew it and she suspected it. I had failed in good communication. That wasn’t the first time. I did not know how to break off a relationship and had learned nothing yet.

We left a day or two later.

TO BE OR NOT TO BE chapter 54

I loved the design part of my Architectural Drawing class. I think I was doing OK, as the instructor complimented my work from time to time. Of course, he may have done that to everyone. He did want clear math calculations with all work and I was hard pressed to give them to him. Somehow I was able to figure out the measurements correctly using addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, but he didn’t know how I did it. I wasn’t sure either, but it worked for me. I would sometimes go to sleep thinking about a problem and know how to fix it the next morning. Strange, eh! He wanted the correct algebraic figures. I was never able to do that. I just didn’t know how. By the second semester I was taking calculus and I washed out. It never made sense because I barely had a grasp of algebra.

He took the class on a tour of a unique five-bedroom five-car garage newly constructed mansion. The door and the covered entrance gave the house a church like appearance. It was wide and low, except for the entrance with a tall with a steeple like feature at the top of the vaulting roof-line. The entrance inside had a marble floor that lead to the right through the kitchen, laundry room and out to the paved and painted garage floor. The hall to the left lead to the bedrooms and the carpeted floor directly across from the entrance and five steps down was the living room and its hard wood floor and a river stone fireplace big enough to stand in. There was a tiered fountain that dripped to from the entrance, to the living room and all the way down to the basement. Next to the living room and back up five steps was the formal dining room and on toward the back of the house was a screened dining room. They considered the summer bugs of the Midwest.

Each of the four smaller bedrooms had its own bath and looked out on the expansive back yard and the large near Olympic sized swimming pool. The master bedroom was larger than most houses with separate his and hers dressing closets and a bathroom the size of a small apartment.

The basement featured a wet bar and TV viewing area. Through a door to the right was small lap swimming pool. A door to the right opened on a two-lane bowling alley. There were no pins or balls. The space looked lonely.

The house was spectacular, a vision of things to come. The man designed it for his wife, but she divorced him as the house neared completion. The children went with her. He no longer wanted to move into the house, but there it was: finished and empty, a tribute to opulence. We never heard the price, but it had to be outrageous.

This tour and some smaller ones only drove the desire deeper to succeed. We toured an architect’s office where the top dog told us what it took to become an architect. It was a crowded field at the time and one would most likely have to be willing to swept floors to get started. I could do that. I continued to love the class and the instructor continued to press me for mathematical details. I managed to put him off by getting it right occasionally. Neither of us knew how I did that.

One day during second semester he invited me to coffee in the student union. He was friendly and complimentary, but did not avoid the hard confrontation. He explained that architects were a dime a dozen. The field was over loaded. Then he said straight out that I would never make it. My math skills were too weak and I did not understand how to calculate stress. That would keep me doing house plans my whole life and the money was in the tall buildings. He told me I drew interesting house plans with exceptional work in kitchen design, but laying all schematics out so a builder could follow was not going well. He was very nice about the whole thing, but none-the-less my dream was shattered and the school year was soon to come to an end. What was I going to do now? I liked commercial art, but didn’t think I was creative enough to make it there. Besides, that felt like settling for second best. The manager of Kinney shoes was urging me to quit college and come to work fulltime. He felt like I could make a lot of money. There were weeks I did.

No goals, no dreams, no girlfriend, and no life I thought. I knew I could succeed at Kinney’s, but that would be the path of least resistance.  I felt like I had taken that road most of my life. I tended to do what fell into my lap. The architect dream was a challenge and one I lost. I just wasn’t up to it. Now what?

COLLEGE ART chapter 53

The instructor for my art class was a stickler about getting lines even and straight and curves smooth when lettering. We were never permitted any drafting type tools to assist. We needed to know how to do it free hand. I always through I could draw straight line until I got in that class.

The instructor was pleasant enough. She gave very helpful instruction and taught us some tricks of the trade. After we met her initial criteria, she showed us various tools to help and make things go faster and look more professional. I liked that better.

The class also included creating ads. She would place an object or several objects in the center of the room and have us create an ad. “Treat it like still life,” she would say. Because there was no adjustment once you got started, we had to do 20-30 mock up sketches, discuss them with her and then choose one to begin our project.

We moved on to landscapes using the campus as our classroom. We went home with assignments to draw our neighborhood. I did a pen and ink sketch of my house. I was attracted to old run down things. Now I wish I still had that drawing. I have no photos of the whole house. I drew part of the school building. These drawing allowed me to combine architecture with art.

We moved onto figure drawing working with poses and a focus on various parts of the body: hands, feet, face with a concentration on portraits. We also drew several full body clothed sketches and only one boy was asked to take his shirt off. I won’t deny that I nearly feel off my stool the day a young lady came in wearing a robe, climbed into the posing stage in the center and dropped her robe to reveal — all of her. I didn’t know where to look. The guys at the shoe store were often posting Playboy women where I would run into them, but those were photos covered somewhat discretely (in those days), but this was a real live flesh in blood college girl sitting just a few feet in front of me and naked as a Jaybird (are Jaybirds really naked?). The instructor treated this like a normal thing. Maybe it was in her world world, but not in my world. I never saw that in the syllabus.

Shelly sat next to me. She was a cute redheaded freckled face girl that turned beet red. I thought she was going to faint. She could not draw that girl. For the entire first human figure class she drew figures (with clothes) and never looked up. I didn't know where to look. I was very embarrassed, but because of fellow salesmen I had learned to control my embarrassment. I didn't want to give them the satisfaction. This model and a couple of others came in off a few more times before the end of the semester. What took the entire class aback was the male model we had only one day near the end of the term. Only a couple of girls clearly enjoyed the show. He had his back to Shelly and I. Admittedly that was more comfortable for both of us.

There were two guys I went out with a few times who were facing the model. I wasn’t near them but you could tell they were having a good laugh and making rude comments (knowing them).

It was second semester before I finally asked Shelly out. We went to eat and then took in a movie. She was nervous and getting more nervous as the night went on. She seemed afraid of me. I could not figure it out. I had done nothing to scare her, in my mind. I had not tried to hold her hand or put my arm around her. As we were getting back to her home she told me this was her first date. We talked about it while she kept her head turned. She was petrified when I walked her to the door. She was afraid I would try to kiss her. I didn’t. I thanked her for the evening and it was over.

At our next class she moved further away from me. I was disappointed, but understood. We never dated again and I really missed the girls from my Christian circle. We could have fun together. Maybe I had made a mistake about the church.

PART THREE – THE COLLEGE YEARS 1960-1964 chapter 52

In the fall of 1960 I began attending the University of Omaha. I could afford it as I continued to live at home and had a great job. Unlike entering high school I left for college with a sense of excitement. I was off to pursue my dream. No fear.

The campus seemed huge to me. When my buddies and I use to bike to Elmwood Park we would ride by the edge, but never through the campus. It was a new world to explore. Only five classes stand out in my mind. Since I cannot separate the semesters I can’t remember what was taken when, but these stood out: Architectural Drafting, Algebra, Psychology, Interior Design and Art with an emphasis in commercial drawing.

Psychology and Algebra were both held in large lecture halls. I knew I was in trouble the first week of classes. For some reason we were seated alphabetically in both those classes. That meant I was at the back and top of the tiered room. One could enter from the second floor right into a large landing. I sat one row down from that landing. There were about half dozen students usually stretched out and sleeping up there. I stayed in my seat, but I had never seen Algebra or any  math class taught as a lecture. No questions were permitted. If you wanted to talk, go to his office and make an appointment. I never went because I never knew what I didn’t know or how I would ask — except maybe to say, “Its all Greek to me.” I tried, but continually fell behind. By the grace of God I got through the first semester, but the second was a killer.

Psychology was much more interesting. The professor was always conducting various experiments with volunteer students. I especially liked the one with three blindfolded students biting into an onion and being asked what it was. The consensus was an apple. The right crunch! His point was sight and touch influences perception. They were not permitted to see it or touch it. Great class. He kept me spell bound.

Of course, I loved Architectural Drafting. Our instructor was a rancher from western Nebraska who flew his plan to Omaha to twice a week to teach the class. While surprised at his occupation, he was very knowledgeable an enjoyable. Must have been my attitude.

Interior Design was taken to fill a class space. I decided if I was going to design houses I should know more about designing the inside. There were 100 students and only one was a boy — me. I liked the class. I wanted more about design, color compliments and room arrangement. A lot of time was spent on learning types and names of various furniture styles. All I know is there were too many Louis 14, 15 and 16’s lurked around that class. And aren’t Chippendales male dancers.

Commercial Art was part of a back up plan in case drafting fell though. Of course, I wanted to take some class that might raise my grade point. Without the aid of computers, we practiced duplicating and creating unique styles of lettering. It was all done by hand, very tedious.

I met several of my old friends in the student center from time to time. I wasn’t real regular as I was pulling away. But I kept contact. They were still very special to me. They seemed to be going on with God and I knew I wasn’t.

I often saw Peter Fonda around campus. I never saw him with anyone. He was always by himself. I usually spotted him on the grass, or bench or leaning against a tree as I went to my car after classes. He never looked up or made eye contact with anyone that I ever noticed. He was a loner.

The year started great!

BACK TO KINNEY SHOES chapter 51

I worked full time at the shoe store the summer after graduation (1960). I had learned to sell shoes the last Saturday before school began in 1959. That was always the stores busiest day of the year – back to school shoes. I was in the back stocking shelves when Jim, men and children’s floor manager, told me to go out and ask someone if I could help them. The floor was jammed, and I didn’t want to but I did. I chose a man holding a very small child in his arms, asked what he wanted, asked if he knew the size. He didn’t and the kid was so squirmy I doubted he would hold his foot still enough for me to measure it, besides I didn’t know how that stick worked. So I took a look at the foot and figured I could get close. When I returned with shoes, they were clearly too big. The father explained he had been waiting a long time and then he got stuck with a salesman who knew nothing about shoes saying, “What is this, your first day?” Well actually, it was.

I was so embarrassed I disappeared into a back shelving area with winter boots (called goulashes) where were stored. I figure no one would find me there. It was too hot outside to want boots. After while, Jim came lurking around the corner pretending he was looking for some shoes (duh!) and said, “Don’t worry about it. My first customer threw the shoes at me. Now get back out there.” While still nervous, the rest of the day was much more successful. I even figure out how the measuring stick worked. At the end of the day Jim said, “Stick with me kid and I’ll teach you how to be a better salesman that I am. That was saying a lot, as he was usually the top salesman of each week. He did what he promised and I have always loved him for it.

He was clearly training me to move up to women’s shoes. More lucrative and the place were all the younger, flirty, goof looking guys went. That was not company policy, but the was the practice. Jim said flirt with them, tell them how nice the shoes look on them and keep complimenting and smiling. It will work wonders. It did and I began to have weeks I would beat Jim.

The work place gradually became the center of my existence. I was good-friends with Chet and his brother Donald, both salesmen near my age. They wanted me to move in with them so I spent a few nights at their apartment to check it out. It might have been tolerable, but neither of them could cook and I sure couldn’t. I could not live on burgers alone, nor did I want to eat out every day.

I did join a bowling league with Chet, Donald and Rick who was the assistant manager. Rick was our best bowler. He had his own ball and glove. Chet and I battled back and forth for second and third. We bowled once a week after work. We also hug out at times getting something to eat or going to a beach.

Chet and Donald were cousins who grew up in an unorganized religious sect where his father was the pastor. They did not go to doctors, the hospital or take pills. Chet has a useable but twisted right hand from a fall out of a tree as a child. He lived with the pain and agony for weeks while it healed. Once he was old enough and realized that most people saw doctors or went to the hospital to fix these things, he began to hate his father. He ran away at 16 and came to work at the shoe store at 18. I don’t know where he was for the two years between. A year later his cousin, who also came to work at the shoe store, joined him.

All three guys were great fun, and all were looking for a woman. The four of us worked the floor beautifully and flirted with all the women and tried to get dates with some of the younger ones. Both Rick and Chet succeeded. I had opportunities, but was still only interested in “churched” girls. Rick saw his date several more times. Chet’s ended after one night.

One day Rick returned from lunch and shopping at Brandies (Omaha’s biggest department store). He was wearing a beautiful tan and brown plaid sports coat that he purchased for $6. He encouraged Chet and I to buy one as well. They were all identical and all size 42 (Donald was to short, right size, but wrong length). Rick had a plan that turned into a great game on a slow day. It helped that we were all close to the same height, hair color and build. We traded off on one customer. One would welcome the customer and get the sale started. While in the back getting the shoes, he passed them off to one of the other of us. If she wanted to see more shoes the third salesman brought them out. All we wanted to know was if the customer ever noticed she didn’t always have the same salesman. A few did – but very few. The ones who caught on had a good laugh. The starting salesman always finalized the sale. We worked on commission. I really thought more would notice. We may have appeared similar, but we all sounded quit different. The boss let it happen a few times, but finally put a stop to it, instead we went out together after work and got heads to turn.

We were all very competitive and the quickest and most profitable way increase sales was to sell sponge rubber arch supports. They cost $1.25, you made a regular commission and the manufacture offered a 25¢ refund for every sale you made. We had the carious sizes of those things stuck in every pocket. When removing a ladies shoe, we placed our fingers under the ball of her foot and gently pressed up while asking, “Doesn’t that feel better?” then tried to convince them that these wonderful, incredible cheap (economical) supports will give them that same relief. Then we would slip them in the shoes and have them walk. “Woo, that does feel better.” Another satisfied customer, at least for the next 30 minutes before the support flattened out. This only worked on high heals. Nearly every woman coming in wore them with their toes jammed into the pointy shoe toes. Most also had corns and bunions. The shoes did nothing for the feet – but ruin them. Why wear them? Fashion I guess. Silly people.

On the last Saturday before fall school began (our busiest of the year) I split my pants an hour after we opened. Not a small split but from the center all the way to the waistband. No extra pants, too busy to go home and a hot day when all the salesmen had their jackets off. Not me, I kept mine on all day and did all I could to keep my back from the many mirrors of the store. The sales crew never noticed until I told them at the end of the day. Beige pants and white underwear helped. If a customer noticed they were gracious enough to say nothing.

When college began I worked every Saturday, Monday and Thursday – those evening we were open late. Then I worked afternoons after classes when I could. I enjoyed the work and got plenty of exercise bending up and down and running for shoes all day.

It’s a little hard for an old shoe salesman to visit self-serve stores of today. All you can find is a cashier, but then they get paid a minimum wage to stand around. We earned minimum wage plus commission and there were some great weeks. I had weeks I earned more than my dad at Union Pacific Railroad. When I found that out, I never mentioned my income again.

OKOBOJI chapter 50

After graduation I enjoyed the summer with friends and took my second trip to Okoboji. Our church had summer camp meetings there every year since 1935. Named after the Okoboji Lakes region of northern Iowa, the camp was located in Arnolds Park, Iowa, a town with an amusement park, rental cabins, boat rentals and nice beaches. To attend camp, you found your own accommodation and made your own meals or mooched off some kind family,

The camp had a huge tabernacle with garage doors on both sides to be opened on beautiful nights. They rented a church across the street where youth meetings were held. Most of my friends went to the youth meetings, but I don’t recall I ever went. I did go to the evening meetings. There was always a big emphasis on missions.

There were too many distractions in the area. The biggest was the Amusement Park. There was the Legends roller coaster, a wooden structure still in operation. I liked the Tipsy House with the rolling barrel exit. It took time, but I eventually learned to get out of there without falling. The Ferris wheel was fun just for the view. It was a great place to hang out and meet girls. It seemed we wandered down there after most evening services just to be in the glow of bright lights

The board wall was definitely a tourist trap for teens. I really didn’t need to ride that much, I just enjoyed being there and because of the shoe store I had extra money. Both years I was in a rental cabin with some of the boys from the church. I seemed to remember a kitchen, but don’t remember making many meals. I know I didn’t cook. Seems like we often ate with different parents.

I don’t remember all the guys I stayed with, but I was getting closer to Al. One night we were walking past some cabins and one of the guys found an unopened can of beer. It got passed around. I doubt many had tasted beer. Not everyone had a taste. Many of us were still caught up in the “don’t” factor of the church of the day. I was shocked that the one guy who was my Christian model had a taste. It shook my cozy little world. You see I was a believer in the doctrine of sinless perfection. I didn’t believe that doctrine applied to me, just to everyone else. I knew I couldn’t stop sinning.

I laugh at those feeling now. Teens experiment and perfection on this earth is not possible. I didn’t take a sip, as I was a prude in that regard. There were some big sins for which I was certain that if I participated Jesus would return to earth and I would go straight to hell. That was one of them.

In the summer of 1960 I met a red headed freckled boy named Roger from Lincoln. We hung out together but he really had to watch the sun that he didn’t become a lobster. I liked Roger and he wanted to show me a trick he learned. So one night after the amusement park closed we went to the boardwalk with two straws. There was a case style pop dispenser with the top lid where bottles were removed by sliding them along a track to the first stop where they could be removed, after you paid your 10¢. We opened the lid, used a bottle opener, popped the lids inserted the straws and emptied the 6oz bottles. I felt evil, but enjoyed the sensation.

There was another night when several of us tried to stay up all night on the beach. Some propped out along the way. I stayed but had to sleep when everyone went to the morning meetings.

The big conflict my last summer at Okoboji was that I met Beth. It was created because I had mostly been dating the same girl for a while and went off with Beth without saying a thing. I was definitely sneaking around. I don’t know that she ever saw me, but all of Arnold Park was close to everything else and many friends did see me. As always happens with teens, everyone found out. I got negative comments and nasty looks from nearly everyone, especially the girls. “How could you?” I actually never gave it much thought. After so many comments I faced the fact that I had hurt a friend I cared for very deeply. We talked, resolved little and as we returned home I began to drift away for the old gang. I have no idea how others felt about that event, but I felt horrible and began to avoid everyone. The looks and comments did not end with the camp.

It wasn’t long after getting back to Omaha, that I stopped going to church. I still got up each Sunday morning and walked out the door to go to church when the rest of my family left, but after a few blocks I returned home. It was always OK to be back before them after church, as I had always been home first. I didn’t want my parents to know.

Similar cabins to the left. Boardwalk much the same, newer places and considerably cleaned up.

New entrance  to the roller coaster. The same roller coaster from the 50's minus the fence.

WINONA LAKE, IN chapter 49

(This story should have appeared before Graduation, but its a good one and needs to be included. So better late than never - I guess.)

The summer before my senior year I was encouraged to attend the National Youth for Christ conference held at Winona Lake, Indiana. About 10,000 were in attendance. I was one lost little puppy.

Our YFC director packed three of us in his VW bug and off we went to the middle of the country. The place was huge. The center had a huge auditorium and houses with rental rooms as far as the eye could see. Rusty, John and I found a room on the second floor with a porch like affair out front. Pete warned us to keep enough money set aside to buy bus fare back home. I found out the cost and put that away immediately. Pete left after getting us settled.

The three of us mostly went our separate ways. Rusty chased women and John, well John… I don’t know. I was pretty committed to finding out what was going on, but O dod meet a girl, Beth from Chattanooga, TN. This was the first camp/conference I attended and actually went to most of the meetings. The energy was overwhelming. It was hard not to be excited.

I watched a lot of the Bible quizzing and got hooked. What we did in Omaha was kids stuff compared to the quizzers on this level. They were up and ready to answer almost before there was a question. I wanted to be able to do that.

The Palarmo Brothers, an Italian American accordion players and singers were the entertainment. They were very funny and mixed with the crowd. Speakers were the best the nation had to offer. I left the conference walking on air, mostly.

The night before we were to leave the three of us sat down to make sure we had enough money to get home. I had enough for my ticket and some food along the way. The bus trip was going to take two days. My buddy’s didn’t have enough for one ticket between them. All for one and one for all. Great, but how do we get home.

Rusty at met a girl headed with her brother to Kansas City so he talked them into taking us east until they turned south. When they pulled up to load us in, they had a VW Bug and their stuff filled the trunk. I still don’t know how we got us and out things in that bug, but we sat on and held the luggage we had. The ride was dreadfully uncomfortable, but off we went.

They took as us far east as Bloomington, Illinois. We arrived in time to pool what little money we had and buy three tickets on to Omaha. Virtually nothing was left for food. Where were we going to stay? Maybe in the local jail! It was a thought so we found the police station and asked. The Sergeant smiled and grinned and said he was sorry, but couldn’t do that. Instead he gave us three tickets for entrance to Home Sweet Home Gospel Mission.

We were disappointed, but had no intention of staying at a mission with all those drunks and stinky men. I’m pretty sure we didn’t smell like roses. We walked around the block, parked our luggage in front of a jewelry store and left John standing guard. Rusty and I went in search of a park.

About half a block away from John, we saw a huge tractor tire leaning against the wall of a dead-end alley. The tire was crying out to be rolled. We did and then walked on trying to find a park. We didn’t get very far when a taxi came screeching around the corner, slammed on his breaks near us and screamed, “Did you roll that tire down the alley?” “What tire down what alley?" “The tractor tire down that alley just a few feet behind you.”

Oh no, what had we done? “Get in my cab.” As stupid as that was, we got in and he drove up to the police station right past John who saw us waving at him. He looked bewildered. The Sergeant said, “Weren’t you guys just in here?" “Well, yes.” The cab driver explained what happened and demanded that we be put in jail until we paid for the repair of his cab. The entire back door on the driver side was caved in. The policeman said, “I’m not going to put them in jail. They look like nice boys, (adjust halo) I’m sure they will send you the money for the cab — won’t you?” “Yes sir.” “Look they have no place to stay so pick up their buddy and take them to the mission.”

We picked up John telling him we would explain later. We were told there was no park with benches and the best outdoor spot to sleep would be at the bus station. He took us there and we tried to settle in for the night.

An hour or so later, the car driver had turned in his cab, which was right across from the depot. We watched him get in his car and rive over to where we were. “Get in the car.” Huh! We were bewildered. “I’ll take you home and you can sleep on the floor. At least it will be warm.” We slept on the floor woke up to the most wonderful breakfast ever. Of course we were starved. The last time we ate was at breakfast the day before. We had at least an 8-hour bus ride before us, and insufficient funds for travel food. He took us back to the depot and made sure we got on the bus and handed us sack lunches his wife had made.

That rolled tired was certainly worth the repair costs. Neither Rusty nor my parents were very happy with us and we both paid the repair cost out of our own earned money (32.50 each).

GRADUATION chapter 48

Graduation. A time of excitement as we move on to achieve our goals. I had already been accepted at the University of Omaha (now Nebraska U. at Omaha), I was about to embark on my great dream of becoming an architect. I had not given up on the dream that began at age 12. All these years I continued to buy house plan books and doodle on the side. I was looking forward to the day my visions would go from paper to construction.

It is also a time of great fear. What will happen? What does my future hold? Will I finish college? Will I be drafted? Should I join the army? Will I find the right girl to marry? Will I still have many of these friends? Several of my buddies were also going to the U of O so I was sure I would see them around campus. I had several friends from different high schools and some of them would also be at the U of O. Would it be some extension of high school? Can I get a deferment?

I’ve recently spent some time reading through the notes scribbled in my yearbook by friends. Looking these some 50 years later makes you wonder what we were thinking. Some wrote the same thing in every yearbook: “It’s been great knowing you,” clearly a goodbye. Our ways would be parting. Lots of variations on “We had fun together,” another form of goodbye.” Then there are the relationship comments about personality: nice, great fun, swell guy, good guy, flattop, (I had one), cute (ah shucks). We are given advice and encouragement for the future: stay true, good luck, stay the same as you are (impossible – no one does that).

We hope some will remain friends for life, but we were to be flung around the world in just a few years. We drifted apart. Some came back together in later years.

A few weeks before the school year ended my friend Gene announced that he and Carolyn had already got married. Their marriage seemed inevitable. They said they had run off to Missouri and done the deed. Because their parents didn’t know they had done this, they would live at home until graduation. Of course, none of this was true, but it took time to get it out of them.

I wondered about our spiritual lives. I knew I was slipping away from God and I could see it in some of the others. There was very little rebellion in us during our high school days, but a day of testing our faith was coming. It had already come for some. The Christian gang was slitting up and not all would stay faithful.

I worried if I would make it as an architect. Mr. Franklin had praised me often in all four years of mechanical drawing. I did the work well, but that was high school. If I graduated from college would I be hired?

Graduation day was coming. Yearbook picture had been taken in the fall. Class rings had been ordered and were on our fingers. We had been fitted for caps and gowns. The event was held at the Civic Center. We were permitted four tickets for friends and family. It would be a tight squeeze. Our class at Central High had 484 students.  The whole event seemed to drag at the time. Many people spoke from the podium. Then it takes a long time to hand out diploma's to all those people. I remember none of it. I just wanted it to be over.

We left the building, had some pictures taken in our cap and gowns, turned them in and a new adventure lay ahead. Lets get to it.

This is my yearbook photo with eyebrows straight across, that is if I didn't pluck them. No break from one to the other. I hated that so much I plucked them beginning in high school. I didn’t know you could get the roots out, but eventually they stopped growing together

We call the look “the walker scowl.” That came in handy later in life.

This is a snapshot that appeared in the yearbook. I was surprised. It looks like it was taken in front of Betty's house. Betty and I are in the gowns.

BANQUETS AND DANCES chapter 47

 Youth for Christ sponsored a few banquets in some pretty nice venues. Until I attended these functions, I had never eaten a meal that some relative had not prepared. I always thought the food was wonderful, but most of it I had never tasted before. We were pretty much meat and potatoes family, never had a green salad.

Pete showed a film made at his college and he was in (a Roman soldier). I was so impressed I considered giving up my dream of architecture and going to Bob Jones University to learn filming. I’m glad that didn’t happen. I would never have survived.

Many YFC banquets were held as an alternative to a school dance or some other religiously unacceptable school sponsored activity. We were always encouraged to dress up. This turned out to be the perfect cover for purchasing a white sports coat with appropriate black slacks, cummerbund and bow tie. As far as my parent knew I went to an awful lot of YFC banquets. Yes, I lied. The sports coat was for the formal dances, but I got some of use out of it at YFC.

Way before I bought the dinner jacket, I had learned that very few of the kids from YFC had hang ups about dances. For a while I thought they were all as deceptive as I was but in reality most went to churches without the “no dance” restriction. It was news to me that there were any churches that danced, except maybe the Catholics. Come to find out many of their churches had no objection to dancing or movies either. I wanted to be a Presbyterian.

I also wanted to learn to dance. Gene helped me out on that point. He received an invitation for three free lessons at an Arthur Murray Dance Studio and he asked me come along. The first lesson was pretty good. We got the full hour promised plus a good half an hour of  a high pressured sales pitch. The first day the pitch to buy lessons was together. When we returned for lesson two, the lesson was shorten - a lot and we were divided for the sale pitch that went on and on and on. If Gene hadn’t been there, I’m sure I would have given in. After lesson two we were told not to come back for lesson three if we were not going to buy the lessons. Gene tore into them showing them the advertisement he got in the mail that promised three FREE lessons and we wanted all three. We went back, but we were not very popular. I think the lessons lasted about 20 minutes and our teachers were certainly disgusted with us. I could hardly wait to get out of there. Gene thought it was great fun. After a few days, I agreed. They promise three free dances and we got them – sort of. At least I learned to ballroom dance.

When Gene and I went to first dance without dates, I was pleasantly surprised to see several YFC club members. I liked this group more and more. Friends to run with at an event I wanted to attend. We both hung out with this group and enjoyed the dance.

I remember going our senior prom with two other couples (Gene and Carolyn were one of them) and we all agreed we would go to a steakhouse before the dance. Sounded fun, but the only restaurant I had ever been in was a burger shack. The food is quite different. It was fun until it came time to order.

The steakhouse was gorgeous. They took our salad order. I was used to eating what was ser before me. “What kind of dressing would you like on your salad?” I knew I was in trouble as soon as I heard that question. What was a dressing? What kinds are there? Betty, my date ordered oil and vinegar so I ordered the same (wish Ranch had been invented back then). It was awful. I thought I was going to gag, but I downed most of it and plodded on. “How would you like my steak cooked?” Huh? Completely, I thought. I requested it to be medium (as my date did). That turned out to be perfect.

Our prom was held at Aksarben Ballroom, a beautiful and large 40’s style ballroom with a spinning mirrored ball. It was two steps down to the dance floor with plenty of tables and seating on two sides and the full orchestra at the front. The ballroom was on the grounds of the Aksarben (Nebraska spelled backwards) Racetrack. The building was built in 1928 for the coronation of the King and Queen of Aksarben. Central High Hussars performed at this event.

I have no photos of the ballroom. I found a few online, but none showed the room off as beautiful as it was, sorry.

Me and Betty, my good friend and prom date.

FRIENDS ARE FRIENDS FOREVER – SORT OF… chapter 46

I don’t know how any kid gets through high school without good friends. Many don’t I guess, but I did and my friends had a great deal to do with my survival.

If is hard to look back and remember how fearful, nervous and insecure I was in high school, at least on the inside. My friends were essential to me continuing my journey toward God. I don’t know any other word for my walk toward God than fickled.  I was on again, off again. What my friends did (often without knowing) was to keep my on track on my ongoing search for God. They got me though high school with at least an interest in faith. That changed after graduation. I walked away from the church for nearly a year. That also meant I walked away from my friends. I was on my own and spiritually rebelling.

But those four years were full of wonderful adventures and great fun. The group was all good kids. How they all fared into adulthood, I do not know, but their support got me to where I flourished – eventually.

While the group hit the drive-ins and eat-ins, the parks, miniature golf, Playland and more, we spent much of out time at people’s homes. It was a different day. We talked, laughed, plotted, organized and entertained one another. We went to YFC and church together. Not all the talk was about God, but who we were was centered on God.

I couldn’t begin to name them all. Some I can no longer even remember their names, but I remember the joy they brought to me. I'm sure we thought this would last forever. It didn't.

This shot of Rusty and Gerry Ann is my all time favorite casual photo. Since nearly everything I took was black and white, I doctored this a bit so we could see Rusty's pajama top and the cool Pepsi bottle. I always thought it would have made a great ad.

The next photo shows how much the girls really loved me. Bev modeled it perfectly. "Don't touch me." "Get away from me." "Help!" This was most likely said with other more appropriate comments.

Gerry Ann and Kathy just being well… Gerry Ann and Kathy

Feeding our faces for nothing better to do. A normal sight.

Harriet: "Not you again. Get outta here."

Maybe it was funny. They thought so.

PLAYLAND was across the Missouri River in Council Bluffs, Iowa. Besides the wooden roller coaster there was all the typical fair games like: knock the milk bottles over, land a nickel on a plate, ring the gong with the mallet, squeeze the handle to determine your strength, etc. There were plenty of other side events like the tunnel of love, the haunted walk, the crazy house (I could not get through the revolving exit without falling) and many others I cannot remember.

SAFE HOUSE chapter 45

There was a safe house only half a block from the north side of Central High. We would exit by the gym and head down a steep hill, cut into the alley and walk right up to Betty’s place.

I have no idea how Gene and I ever got started walking to her place after school, but it happened often. I suspect Gene and I began as a means of waiting out the fights and other problems out the west door of the school. On the other hand, we made have done it just because we had all become good friends and it was something to do after school.

Betty was the one who drew me into Youth for Christ. I convinced Gene to come with us to the Saturday night YFC rallies. Gene folded right into the larger group of friends, but he was my best friend. He loved all the activities the group did and had access to a car before I did.

I remember a time Gene was driving with Betty and I in the car and we were very far north on 30^th Street. Why, I don’t know. Betty yelled some comment out the window as a response to a car that had made some threatening comments. A few blocks later they were joined by another car with six boys looking for a fight. The first car was behind us and the car full of boys was on our left side trying to push us to the curb. Gene took off as fast as he could drive through red lights as we all prayed for a cop. There was none to be found. When he finally got far enough ahead and into an area where he was familiar he made some quick turns left and right and right and left and finally pulled into an alley and then up in his own back yard. We sat there awhile slinked down and breathing heavy until we were sure we were safe. The wait was long.

In warm weather we often sat at the top of the steps leading to Betty’s place from 19^th Street. We talked. About what, I could never speculate at this point in life. I suppose it was just about life, maybe our problems (of course teens have problems even if they are only their own mind), definitely school, our friends, what to do, where to go. We may have gone bowling. I don’t think we ever when bowling after school, but there was a bowling alley a short distance down the hill from Betty’s house, and we did bowl. Betty really liked beating the boys, which she did often.

After high school I joined a bowling league with some of the salesmen from Kenny Shoes. I would love to report I bowled a perfect game, but about the closest I ever got was about a 220, maybe 240.

I remember a time when there had been a murder reported on the campus of Creighton University. Since Gene and I usually walked through their campus to get home, there were many nights after events when we ran through the campus. The whole thing seems funny now. Yes, there had been a murder, but it wasn’t random. Besides, like we would say, why would anyone want to kill silly high school boys? We never stopped cutting through the campus and only felt somewhat secure after we passed St. John’s Cathedral. We never saw anything, but we heard enough noises to scare the wits out of us. 

This is St. John's Cathedral as it looked in the late 50's when Gene and I were running down 30th Street as fast as we could (not that fast). I got to see the campus a few years back. It is beautiful and their school of dentistry sits where my house use to sit and some of their student housing sits where Gene once lived. By the way, Gene went on to become a dentist and we only had contact once more and that was only a few years before he passed away.

HIGH SCHOOL MILITARY chapter 44

In the 1950’s the military was a very big deal. The Korean War was winding down. We were in a cold war with communist countries, lead by Russia and we were expecting them to attack at any time. They had promised to annihilate America or at the least make us a communist country. China was rising and there was a strong movement to restore Chiang Kai-shek to power .The Vietnam War had begun November 1, 1955, just as I was beginning high school. There was a threat of was over the heads of all high school boys. They would turn 18 during that was, register for the draft and… many feared they would be sent to the Orient and not for a vacation.

The USA had used the Atomic bomb and now believed in atomic power at a deterrent to conflict. The administration increased the number of nuclear warheads from 1,000 in 1953 to 18,000 by early 1961.

The Soviets produced the first intercontinental ballistic missile (1957), first satellite (Sputnik-1 1957), first animal in space (the dog Laika on Sputnik 2 1957), were working on putting the first human in space and Earth orbit (cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin on Vostok 1 1961), The USA had entered the space race late and were playing catch-up.

To begin to complete in this new world order, the Russian language was taught and we were encouraged to learn it, science classes were beefed up and young men were compelled to register for the draft. War was coming.

To that end, many schools had Reserved Office Training Corp (ROTC). It was a large and respected program in my high school. Our 1959 yearbook dedicated twelve pages in a section entitled “Military.” Besides the officers and cadets, there were honorary officers (girls selected to these positions). There were several military sub-groups. The Kings and Queens Hussars (two separate groups) who served at the coronation of the king and queen of Aksarben (Nebraska spelled backwards). There was a rifle team, a crack squad, a military band, a commissioned officers club, a Non-Commissioned officers club, a color guard, and the military police. I don’t know where the brig was, but I had been on the rifle range.

The numbers enrolled in ROTC were huge. Since most of us were sure we would be headed to war, becoming an officer was appealing. To achieve that would require four years in high school, four in college and officers training school. Being a grunt was quicker and easier, but more likely to put you in the front line.

I have often wondered how many of my classmates served in the military, how many went to Vietnam, and how many came home. Central was a top academic school ranked 20^th in the nation. The school was loaded with very bright, intelligent students the majority of whom would go on to college. Very few were drafted out of college. Fewer upper class, white boys were called to report. Did we go, were we called, were we conscripted?

The poor also attended Central. They lived all around the neighborhood, but there were not many of them compared our neighbor school, Tech.

The conscientious objectors, the draft dodgers, and the infirm kept quiet. To speak up was to make a defense for not going. We were obligated to go. Those who just plain hated the war were just beginning to voice an opinion. They didn’t get loud until the 1960’s, but the rumbling was beginning to be heard even though the group determined to shit them up was larger. That would change.

Forgive me, but I went to Canada in 1962. It was totally unplanned and not to escape Vietnam. That story comes up after the high school stories.

The Kings Hussars - wish they were in color. Striking.

The Queens Hussars all dressed in white.

There were many in ROTC and they had their own ball.

Hussars is a Hungarian Mounted Military term used throughout Europe and 

England where they serve the Queen. 

A HALLOWEEN PARTY chapter 43

The high school years are a time of self-discovery for everyone. I felt like the last two years of HS were where I learned the most about myself. L learned to good, the bad and the ugly. I understood my fears better, and was beginning to discover some skills I might have. I learned new things about myself all the time. I was in the process of becoming the person I would – er… become.

I credit YFC director, Pete, for guiding me in the discovery of another skill or gift. Frankly, I have never really figured out the difference between these two. He put me on a citywide planning committee for the 1959 YFC Halloween party. I learned I liked planning and organizing things and the wilder and more creative it got, the more fun I had.

I don’t know how often we met, but even the meetings were fun. The committee was expected to be there early for the sent up and each of us had a portion to direct and explain. I didn’t even mind that. I guess my fear of large groups was dissipating. The party was a blast. I must have had plenty of time, or I recently got a brownie camera, because I took a lot of photos, at least a lot for me.

I’m sure we did many of the things typical of the day. We were encouraged to come in costumes or the theme was “country.” There were a lot of farmer outfits. Maybe those were just the costumes we had readily at hand. We had sack races, bobbed for apples, a pie eating contest and for some reason someone threw a pie. I have the pictures, but don’t know why we did it.

I so request not putting names on the back of all my photos. Fifty years later, I recognize people and would know them right away, if they hadn’t changed, but for the life of me I am not even sure some had names.

A few photos will tell this story the best.

Let to right: Tom Scott, unknown, Chuck Davis, Terry Porter

Gerry Ann most likely winning the race.

Kathy is dressed and ready to receive a pie — why?

A NEW CHURCH chapter 42

A NEW CHURCH chapter 42

It was late in my sophomore year when I asked Dad if I could change churches. I had my doubts that he would allow it, but I could no longer tolerate the one in which I had been reared. My involvement in Youth For Christ introduced me to a group of kids living for God and the church many of them attended. Not everyone I met attended the Tabernacle, but it was interesting to see how many of us gravitated there over the years, if not permanently, at least for visits.

I was rather anxious about approaching dad on the subject of a new church, but it was change or quit as far as I was concerned. If I was going to grow closer to God, it was unlikely that it was be in my home church. I believe my dad also has a sense it was decision time for him as well.

The pastor of the new church was fairly well known in Omaha. He had been the radio pastor for WOW radio for years. He broadcast on Sunday mornings, but I am not sure my father ever heard of him. However, dad remembered him from the great flood of 1952.

The flood of April 1952, still stands as the flood-of-record for the Missouri at Omaha. The river over flowed its banks and thousands were at the waters edge piling sand bags as fast as they could be filled. Dr. Brown and his congregation were noted for providing coffee and food for the workers. A team from the church was there day and night. Dad remembered that and admired the pastor for that act of service. He consented.

I was somewhat familiar with the church building, at least the main entrance. Our weekly Youth For Christ club had moved from the covenant church to the Tabernacle. It was one block east of Central high, a longer walk for me.

The sanctuary was much larger (about 1000). Public prayer was a shocker. It was so quiet. Only the one leading prayer prayed out loud. I had to look around to see what was going on. They clapped at the singing, but not like my Pentecostal church. The new church clapped with the beat. The old one clapped on the offbeat, much more rhythmic I thought. I have never really adjusted to that.

On Wednesday night everyone would gather in the sanctuary for a brief talk, and then divide into smaller groups for prayer. The teens met in a room off the stage and I could not believe they kneeled to pray, and what prayers they were. They were sincere, honest, heart grabbing desires for God to intervene in life. These moments more than any other drew me along in what was becoming a growing faith.

The church was a good fit. I stayed with the Tabernacle, went off to one of their Bible colleges and worked in their churches for 37 years. I guess you could say I found my place — or God placed me where He wanted.

Missouri River flood 1952, Omaha, NB