THE DAM BREAKS part 2, chapter 73

The school year of 1964-65 was a personally defining leadership time. I changed dramatically in unexpected ways. While I had been freshman class president, and worked on various creative and planning committees, I did what I did because it was fun. I wasn’t always in charge. Even when I had that title I was more of a facilitator, than a leader. I love the idea of teamwork.

Many have regrets regarding that school year. I am one of them. I became angry, violate and explosive and it was highly directed. I was able to temper it at times but it seemed to simmer under my skin. It would not go away.

It was early in January of the second semester when the dam broke for me. It cracked and spewed muck in December. Several students were placed in room arrest (my term, not theirs – if ankle bracelets had been invented I’m sure they would had wore them). I saw the issue as a problem, felt it and tried to stick my finger in the hole to plug it but it was too little too late and I felt like I was the wrong person in the wrong place. I had no authority and no power.

The school had a scheduled hockey game with Carenport Bible College near Moosejaw, Saskatchewan, and the student council had arranged rides to the game at their campus. The normal pattern for this was to find drivers willing to fill their car, post their names and the number they could take and then let people sign up for a ride. Student Council would then pay the drivers gas money. This plan worked as designed.

We all had a great time. It was nice to get off campus as a group and just laugh and cheer. No doubt it was an important game. Carenport was our chief rival. Maybe we won. I don’t know. 

When we returned from the game, a large number of students had deportment slips in their mailboxes. I was one of the later cars to return and was under attack before I walked in the door. “Why did I get a deportment slip?” How was I to know? I couldn’t see through walls, nor mentally transport from city to city. “What did the note say?” Leaving campus without signing out. Each dorm had a book at one exit in which students were required to write their departure day, time and destination, then the time they returned. Several students followed that rule diligently apparently most did not.

I checked my box and as suspected also had one. It was my first deportment of the year and a mistake I did not want to make then or ever, but I had. I knew we were under law. I knew I had gone to the game without signing the exit book. Claiming it was an accident or that signing the transportation sheets was tantamount to signing out did not matter under the law. I messed up and accepted that as my fault. But some of the people who got notices had not left campus and didn’t know why. Neither did I, but for some reason some believed I should have the answer. I had no idea on what basis notices were given. I listened to those complains all weekend. It felt like my only escape from the talk was church. It is the first time in my life I wished church lasted all day.

. On Monday morning I walked over to pick up the signup sheets for the trip to the Carenport hockey game we had posted on a bulletin board in the Administration building. They were not there, No problem, Ron was the Student Council treasurer. It was his job and I assumed he had the sheets. I asked him about them when I saw him later that day. “No, I thought you picked them up.” “No!” We stood together trying to figure out where the sheets went. The same light bulb idea flashed over our heads at the same time. Most likely the dean took the signup sheets and used them to compare to dorm sign out books so demerit slips could be written. As students often did, some who asked for rides did not go. Others went who were not on the lists. The whole deportment list was arbitrarily based and caught only a few of the actual offenders all of whose names appeared on the ride lists already. It also caught a few non-offenders.

I was furious at the thought that someone in administrative authority has used the ride signup sheets to hand out deportments. In my somewhat less legalistic eyes those sheets might have been viewed as signing out. But instead they became proof that people left without signing out. Right or wrong, I could not believe they could have stooped so low. It felt more like “now I got you,” a sneaky little trick.

Having assumed the scenario we suspected was correct. I was so angry I wanted to punch a hole in the wall. I decided he had no right to take those signup sheets when they rightfully belonged to the Student Council. If he did have the right, why did he not consult with Ron or myself? We put them up, not him. A note would have worked.

There is no question my attitude was wrong. I had had it up to here (hand way above head) with what several students considered to be downright dirty tactics.  I had listened to their concerns and frustrations since September and done nothing but get worn out by their words. The room arrest wore heavily on the incarcerated and several other students. Their behavior was being watched closely and secret Gestapo assistants (other students) were reporting every possible infraction to the authorities. Apparently someone believed this was the responsible Christian thing to do. Some felt those student’s actions were unforgiveable, and even a lynching might not be too sever (joking).

Something had to be done. I did not see anyone stepping up to the plate. All anyone did was complain behind the backs of offenders and authorities or say we were under authority. I wanted to know what the right response was if authority was wrong. A large number seemed to believe authority could not be wrong. I never once saw myself as the champion of anyone’s cause. I had never stood up to any perceived wrong in my life. I kept my mouth shut and turned my back and slinked away with my tail between my legs. Someone had to do something and the powers that be were silent.

Emboldened by anger, I walked over the Deans office and pounded on the door with the back of my hand. I wanted answers.

THE ENTERTIANERS chapter 66

       Shortly after the Halloween Party I asked Franklin if he wanted to do a skit with me. We really hit is off as friends and comedians. At times it was like we could read one another’s minds. Ideas flowed. Writing was easy and quick. One concept blended right into the next and a pattern was set. Scripts were rarely written word for word. It was idea upon idea with a basic concept and plenty of adlibbing.  Then, we did do a lot wordless skits with several were based on the Three Stooges. Franklin and I were the consistent characters and Dean was normally the third, but I have this on photo when Al is with us. Strangely, it is the only photo I have of any skit. If anyone has any others, I would love copies. We often had help. Bruce was our sound effects guy and Mel played the piano to create the effect of a silent movie.

This skit has the whipped cream pie and you can see splatter in the back.

We also used water and one bucket had confetti to throw on the people. 

Our collarless shirts just had the collars turned inside.

Franklin, myself, and Al.

We did a lot with props, very messy props. We loved cream pies (whipped cream only – they splatter better) and water gags. We did this thing with what appeared to be a bucket of water. One would chase the other and throw it out over the audience. They ducked, they screamed, they laughed. Somewhere along the way, we would cry over our failure, problems, or whatever. That single act got great laughs and ended up being a regular part of almost every skit. All we had to do was make the face as though we were going to cry and the laugher began. It seems silly as I write it now, but it always worked

One skit we did at youth conference was the Egyptian Mummy with Miss A as the mummy.  We made a cardboard esophagus with a bowed front door so we could stuff a pile of things behind Miss A. It was rolled into place on a dolly. We built shelves in it and hangers from the roof so that we could tuck things and hang things and hopefully the audience would wonder where on earth we were getting all this stuff. 

We borrowed camping furniture--stools etc. from Mrs. Martin.  Things were very old and rotten, and as we each sat on the stools they began to rip giving us conniptions wondering how we would face Mrs. Martin. Not to be off set by an unseen development, we improvised. During pauses we spoke to each other under our breath--Franklin said, "Dean your stool is ripping---just remain in a seated position and take your weight off the stool."  We all sat there for a good length of time looking as though we were sitting on the stools, but actually sitting in mid air with strained and exhausted legs.

 In another skit we were dressed like old timers with our hair parted and plastered down in the middle. We used Butch Wax to get the hair to stay where it belonged. It was like adding concrete to our heads. We had to wash our hair over and over and over to get that stuff out. This was done in the dinning room. I came alone the wall from the kitchen and Franklin came along the wall from the girl's dorm side hallway. When we got to the corner we would each stick the tips of our fingers around the edge of the wall, so we each could tell when the other was there.  We then counted after the last person's fingers appeared as we slowly came forward, looked around the corner at the exact same time, stared at each other and were frightened. People thought it was a riot and wondered how we did it. I have just revealed a trade secret of a once wanna be stunt man. 

We also were asked to arrange the farewell chapel for the departure of Miss Shattuck Rev. Willoughy----and Mr. Morden

 Marg played Miss Shattuck who did a take-off her telling the story about her driving a car when it slid on the ice.  She used a book, and demonstrated in mid air how the car slid.  The whole thing was in the form of a trial--judge, prosecutor etc. 

We had Mr. Willoughy standing in the center of the stage, and proclaiming him guilty of more things than I can remember. He was to be hanged. The chapel screen was lowered to within reaching distance and had a noose hidden, attached and lying on top of the support board. When the screen was then jerked up suddenly the noose dropped to slightly above Rev. Willoughby’s face. Mr. Willoughby made a big production of going "gulp!!!"  It brought the house down. 

We did a skit in the lounge of the Ad Bldg. It was a whipped cream pie venture. We put some paper on the wall because Mr. Johnstone was very fussy about the buildings.  It was a precaution in case any cream flew through the air and hit the wall. Well the cream did fly, and it soaked right through the newspaper and there were large oil marks on the wall. We almost died because we didn't know how we would face Mr. Johnstone.  The next morning Franklin went straight to his office to confess.  He did so along with appropriate embarrassed mannerisms and a bowed head, Mr. Johnstone said, "Franklin!  These walls were made for the enjoyment of the students and things like that happen---its OK!"  Go figure?

At a youth conference we did a skit to get back at Rev. Willoughby who was the speaker, and Gordon Fowler who was the MC. They stayed in the lower floor room of the men’s dorm just off the ping-pong room. We snuck in and stole their toothbrushes. In the skit we addressed something we had that was just terrible.  We brought it out of a paper bag, all the while shielding it from the audience. We looked strangely at the brushes, shuddered, faked a near vomit, and then revealed the toothbrush---we identified the owners and said,  "I always wondered where the yellow went----!!!!!"  

Our skits were so funny and so well liked that people started laughing the minute they knew we were going to do a skit.  We didn't have to be worried, they laughed like crazy at everything we said or did. I always wanted Roy at each performance. He had a loud guffaw and his presence was like priming the pump. It we weren’t connecting, his laughter would bring the crowd along anyway.

That’s the way Franklin remembers it. And I’m glad he did. I remembered as he reminded me and the stories are all familiar. I really needed his memory on this. I only remember that we did skits.

ON CHOIR TOUR chapter 60

It wasn’t unusual years later to simply tell people I went on choir tour. Of course, I always had to give in and fess up. But it was fun while it lasted. I no longer have a copy of the tour schedule but we got as far north as Dawson Creek, BC and the obligatory photo of milepost “0” of the Alaskan Highway. We traveled into the Canadian Rockies for a view of what I expected Canada to really look like. We cut deep through the BC costal mountains for a stop at Prince George. I fell in love with the Okanagan and the fruit trees and azure colored lakes before going on to Vancouver and Victoria for the almost grand finale. It was a spectacular trip. My black and white brownie didn’t do justice so I bought dozens of postcards to show my family and Al what I had seen.

There were four or five cars in the caravan. I’m not sure if it was always this way, but my car was often at the end of the line. At times we made a quick stop as the others rolled on and then rushed to catch up. I know we got caught at least once.

The tour began in the front circle of the college with a photo of my carload. Left to right: Diane, David, Ruth, Mel, Floyd and me. I have no memory of those hats or whether the whole choir had them or just our car. I do know I have other pictures with more of the group wearing them. I do remember the sunglasses. The group is covering up my cool car.

Floyd had been Al’s roommate at school and mine of the tour. In the ‘60’s host homes put us in all kinds of rooms and beds. Sharing a bed, was the norm and we had some strange ones, and several not so comfortable ones. I believe it was in Kamloops that the bed sagged so bad we have no choice but to brace ourselves back to back. That wasn't working. The room was very small, but somehow we wiggled the mattress onto the floor so we could sleep. I think this was the same home where the widowed German lady had prepared the biggest breakfast I had ever seen. She tricked us. When we arrived there were various breads including sweet rolls, cheese, coffee, tea and juice on the table. I think we both expected this to be the sum total of breakfast so we ate like it was the end. That was a big mistake. That was only the first course of more courses than I could not imagine that anyone would make that much food for two boys. It would have feed the entire choir with food left over. Still to come was pancakes and maybe even waffles, eggs, various breakfast meats, cereal (not necessarily in that order) and with each new delivery was the encouragement to, “Eat, you’re growing boys.” I blame my size today directly on that woman. Just joking.

Is not necessarily an accurate representation 

of the breakfast we were served. but close.

I not only enjoyed Floyd as my roommate, but the car was a great group with lots of laughter and plenty of stories. The day after each stop I got the low down on the funny things that happened the night before. Sometimes I was one of those.

The Teows sisters (Elfreida and Elsie) had been appointed to New Guinea--West Irian.  They were to leave immediately and had no time to raise any prayer support.  The college put together a pictorial presentation to support then and sent it on the choir tours.  My claim to fame was that I ran the projector.  At the end of each slide, a bell rang so I would know to advance to the next slide. I am told I would sit with one arm holding up my head--leaning on the projector stand. Franklin and John would watch from the choir  where they decided that it would be fun to find one of those bells and ring it at off times so that I would get all mixed up. Neither had the money so it never happened. Yeah!

I sat through several concerts. I did enjoy the choir and their music, but it wasn’t long until I knew the music as well as they did and sang along (to myself usually outside when not doing my job).

Tour was a great experience for me.