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.