The case of the always missing car - Stories from the Attic

In our great attic clean-out, we came across several boxes full of keep-sakes - old photos, notes, letters and such. From those, I have mined some blog stories. Here's one about my roommate.
 
Poor Skeeter. It was hardly fair to gang up on him like that. But I should start at the beginning.

I was in the minority when I was in college in that I had a car. I had a job at a radio station on the far side of Abilene, so I needed reliable transportation - thus the car.

One weekend I was to fly to Dallas to do some film work with the Herald of Truth, so I left my car keys with Skeeter, my roommate, so that he could have the benefit of the car while I was gone. However, unknown to Skeet, I left another key with Thayne, who lived next door in the dorm (and later became my brother-in-law). And the stage was set for a very disturbing weekend - for Skeeter.

Wherever the guys went in the car that weekend, it was never found in the place Skeeter left it. If they went to eat, someone moved the car down a block during the meal. Movies? Where's the car? I left it right here! Back at the dorm? Look, it's over there in the other parking lot!

Thayne kept switching co-conspirators to move the car so that Skeeter would not get suspicious that the same person was always missing - and it worked well.

When I got home Sunday evening, Skeet handed me the keys and said, " I don't know where your car is. I left it in front of the dorm, but I know without looking it's not there now. And don't ever lend me your car again." and he walked out.

Just another story that needs to be recorded in the family history.

Teahouse of the August Moon - Stories from the Attic

In our great attic clean-out, we came across several boxes full of keep-sakes - old photos and such. From those, I have mined some blog stories. Here's one based on some photos from the "College Days" box.

When I graduated from ACU, U.S. military involvement in Viet Nam was escalating dramatically. Enrolling in graduate school seemed a better choice at the time than enrolling in the military, so I signed up for a course called "Technical Problems of the Theater" which involved co-directing the Spring theater production. Shortly after enrolling, Kennedy exempted all married men from the draft, and I was working full time by then, so the graduate studies were short-lived, but the show must go on.

The production was Teahouse of the August Moon, John Patrick's Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award winning Broadway play; in 1956 it was made into a movie starring Marlon Brando, Glen Ford, Eddie Albert and Paul Ford.

If you are not familiar with the story, it is a gentle satire of U.S. military/civilian relations and the drive to Americanize the world. One year after World War II, Captain Fisby is sent to the village of Tobiki in Okinawa with orders to teach the people democracy. The first step of Plan B is to build a school -- but the wily Okinawans know what they really want.

They teach him about their culture and traditions, often counter to his expectations, and persuade him to build something they really want instead: a teahouse. Fisby, of course, succumbs to the laid-back island life - as do all the subsequent officers sent to find out what is going on with Plan B. Finally the Big Brass, Col. Purdy shows up, the truth comes out and the teahouse is ordered destroyed.

Immediately afterwards, Col. Purdy learns that the Pentagon thinks Teahouse Pacification is a wonderful idea, and a delegation is on the way to celebrate the success of a teahouse that no longer exists. The day is saved, of course, because the sly Okinawans had only pretended to destroy the teahouse. "Oh no, Boss. Only hide teahouse. We put it back quick."

Gary Ady, the other guy in the first picture (the woman is Jacqueline Taylor - the Assistant Director) directed the play for his Master's thesis. He cast the show, coordinated the interpretation of lines, composition, "stage business" and movements of the actors. My role was Technical Director; I designed the sets and the visual impact of the show, created the lighting scheme, chose props and costumes, and designed the backdrops. I had a wonderful crew to help carry all this out.

One of the props was a jeep. A real jeep. There was a kid on campus. Lynn Mullings, who had a vintage military type jeep and we talked him into loaning it to us for about 3 weeks. Not only that, he let us paint it Army color. We scientifically established that the stage was strong enough to support a jeep by looking into the sub-space through an access panel and saying, "Looks pretty stout. What do you think?" "Yea, let's do it." So we took out about 6 rows of seats, built a shaky ramp and fearless Lynn drove his jeep up onto the stage.

It's the part about "Oh no, Boss. Only hide teahouse. We put it back quick" that still gives me goosebumps. Lewis Fulks, the Director of ACU Theater at the time, required a model of all the sets and scenes; that's what Gary, Jacqueline and I are looking at in the picture - a model of the stage with the teahouse set. The vertical panels were free-standing, decorated with large white Styrofoam designs and gold reflective foil. The canopy was fabric, a rich red that draped over horizontal rods.

When it came time to "put it back quick," Sakini, the interpreter-scoundrel Okinawan in the play,  gave directions and the villagers scurried out with the vertical panels, the mats, tables, flowers, tea pots and cups, and when all was back in place, he clapped his hands and the canopy, previously hidden in the fly-loft, floated down and settled gracefully on the set. It got applause every time it happened.

May I, ahem, unabashedly quote from Patrick Bennet, Abilene Reporter News Amusements Editor's review: "Robert Anderson's sets, players and effects all joined smoothly to produce the fine product for which Lewis Fulks' shows are noted. Flawless."

There was another quote - from the play, itself. We repeated it often as we worked to put the show together:

"Pain make man think.

Thought make man wise.

Wisdom make life endurable."

Old Flames - Stories from the Attic

In our great attic clean-out, we came across several boxes full of keep-sakes -- old photos and such. From those, I have mined some blog stories. 

Among the pictures from my high school days were a few of old girl friends. That's certainly not surprising, since I was a handsome devil back then and a BMOC as well. Well, sort of.  I blogged a couple of years ago about the girl with the unusual name, Amala Knight. You know, the one that caused my mother to think I was corresponding with a motel chain. Here's a picture:

Yes, I know that is the back of her head, but if you go back and read that blog you'll find that Amala is not her real name anyway, and to preserve her privacy, I turned the picture around.

And I found a picture of Sandy from San Angelo, but since I know she is active on FaceBook, I'll not post it, either. Sandy and I met when she came to town to visit an Aunt (do you see a pattern here?) and we did have a few actual dates. I even drove to San Angelo once to spend a weekend with her and her family. Alas, it was not meant to be. Sandy went off to UT, and I went to ACU.

My favorite story about Sandy involves J. C. Post, a guy from church and fellow classmate. We both had old beater autos that looked somewhat alike, and one Saturday night J.C. and his date and Sandy and I all ended up at the same movie theater. Not too hard - there was only one theater in town. When we came out, it was pouring rain, so the guys all ran for their cars and drove by the front of the theater to pick up our respective dates.

Sandy, seeing what she thought was my car, ran out and jumped in - with J. C. - and he promptly drove off with her. I was right behind him, and I saw what happened, as did J. C.'s date, so she came and got in my car and we drove off as well. I knew that J.C. was going to the Dairy Delight - that's where everyone congregated after the movies, so after a while I pulled into a drive-in space next to J. C. I was getting worried that Sandy might choose to spend the rest of the evening with J. C., but we managed to get our dates sorted out, and all ended well.

And then there was Madelyn. I honestly don't remember her last name. She moved to town late in my senior year, and a bunch of guys tried to date her. I did get her to agree to go to the Senior Banquet with me, but the weekend before, she was out with someone else and they hit a cow in the road, and she broke her leg. No Banquet for her, no date for me!

What is outstanding about Madelyn is the "Love, Mother" picture. Madelyn had modeled professionally in the big city where she lived previously, and she had a bunch of 8X10 photos made up of modeling sessions that she used to promote her modeling career. She gave me (and every other boy in school, I think) one, and I took mine with me when I left for ACU.

Pin-up pictures were not permitted in the dorms, and I caught some flak early on because of the picture, so I signed it "Love, Mother" and claimed that it was a family portrait. See what you think:

Can you see the family resemblance? The ink has faded in 50+ years - you can just barely make out the "Love, Mother" signature. Since the dorm checker stopped hassling me about the picture being up, I thought I had really pulled something off, until my real mother came to visit my room. She was not amused. By the way, you get to see Madelyn's picture because she handed out dozens of these and sent them to every TV station in the state. No privacy issues here.

But the woman who really pursued me was.... Anita Bryant. Yes, that Anita Bryant, the singer. I told you that I worked for a radio station in Abilene, and I got to interview lots of celebrities, Anita among them. Here's a candid shot of the two of us in the VW bus that was decked out for remote broadcasts.

You can tell from the look on her face that she is just in awe of me. I had that effect on older women. The problem was, not long after, I began dating Barb, but Anita just would not leave me alone! She would write me love notes and send me cards, and of course, Barb would see them. No really. Look:

 And...

Notice the 3-cent stamp. Love was cheap in those days! I finally had to tell Anita that I had found the love of my life, and she was just going to have to deal with it, hard as that may be!

Revisiting Boy's State - Stories fron the Attic

In our great attic clean-out, we came across several boxes full of keep-sakes - old photos and such. I posted most of this blog several years ago, but I did not have the benefit of these photos, newly recovered from the attic.

Between my Junior and Senior years in High School, I was selected to attend American Legion Boy's State, held here in Austin on the University of Texas campus. The Principal at BHS, Jim Wilkerson, selected six of us to join about 700 other boys from around the state and  participate in an exercise of leadership and citizenship by forming and "running" an imaginary state. That's me, in the circle on the far right, uh, on the bottom. Trust me.

Our dorm assignments were "Cities" (Hood City, fall out!) and we elected local and state officials - up to and including the Governor and Lt. Governor. This is the entire population of Hood City. I seem to be the only one who doesn't think this was a good idea.

My hair was not good enough to run for governor, so I campaigned for and was elected to the office of Chaplin of the Senate. I don't remember what the chaplain's duties were, but I do know that those senators and other citizens of that Boy's State needed some powerful praying over. At the conclusion of the week, we all marched from the UT campus to the State Capitol building, sat in the official chairs in the official chambers and invoked a joint session of our elected legislature, and as I recall, passed a few bills (which were immediately squashed by those in charge).

I'll have you know, I'm in good company as a participant in Boy's State - other notables that have attended are Bill Clinton, Mike Huckabee, Tom Brokaw, Jane Pauley (yes, there was a concurrent Girl's State held on a different campus) Nick Saban, Michael Jordan, Mark Wahlberg, Neil Armstrong and my son-in-law, Jason, to mention a few.  And we all wore the famous Tee Shirt. We were given one and had to buy any additional. Did I mention that there was no laundry service at Boy's State? We just kept buying shirts. That's why, when I got to college, I still had several left over. Barb said she always knew when I was at the bottom of the clean clothes - you could see the American Legion logo through my outer shirt.

And it was the shirt that got me in trouble.

We also had a newspaper at Boy's State, and since this group got special late-night privileges (and no PE the next morning) I was quick to join. We wrote up the day's events, interviewed important people (like then-Governor Price Daniels), typed it all up and took it over to the Daily Texan offices each evening for printing. Here's the newspaper staff, marching into the auditorium for talent night, whistling the theme from "Bridge on the River Kwai." I don't remember what else we did, talent-wise. Whistling and marching may have been it. Like walking and chewing gum.

On our last evening, the newspaper sponsor (a college-age counselor) promised us we could go downtown and see a movie after we were done. And be sure and bring a non-Boy's State shirt. The official shirt was to be worn  at all times; this was how they kept up with the boys. Being caught off-campus was a no-no and the shirt sort of gave you away, in that regard. So, of course, we all changed shirts before climbing into our sponsor's convertible and heading downtown. When we got back - way after hours - the building containing the newspaper offices was locked with our official tee shirts inside! Not to worry; see that ledge? If I can work my way over to that window on that ledge, I think I can crawl inside the building.

And that is how I first came to the attention of the University of Texas Police Department. And, no, it was not the last time, but that's another story. I will say that we got in a whole lot less trouble than we could have. I don't think the counselor got invited back the next year, however.

I just wish I still had one of those shirts.

The Telephone - Stories from the Attic

In our great attic clean-out, we came across a couple of family "heirlooms." This is the story of one of our finds.

Of all the items we drug out of the attic, these may be the only things that actually have any value:

In telephone parlance, this box is a 1940's era Magneto Desk Set. The phone attached is circa 1930, known as the "French" phone. And it still works. Either one is a collector's item - but not in the price range of that Picasso I hoped we would find in the attic.

My father was a telephone man his entire working career, so it was not unusual to have various phone parts and pieces around the house; the U-shaped magnets that are part of the magnetos were among my first toys. And the magnetos themselves provided a lot of excitement as well. More about them in a moment.

The oak box - the "Desk Set" - was actually normally mounted on the wall; its only purpose was to hold the magneto, the bell, and provide mounting points for the phone line, the cord for the transmitter and receiver (which was probably of the "candle stick" design) and for the wires from the battery, which were placed elsewhere, not in the box (telephone systems have always provided their own power, but in the rural areas it was often necessary to boost the signal with batteries).

The low voltage in the phone line was sufficient to power a voice conversation, but ringing the bell was a different story. That of course, is the reason for the magneto; when you give the crank on the side of the box several good turns, you can generate quite a few volts - 50, 60, or more. This current "rings" the operator: "Hello, Central!"

The magneto in this desk set is a "three bar" unit - three U-shaped magnets. Four and five bar units, as well as other designs, were also used over the years. You may be able to see that this unit was made by the Kellogg Switchboard and Supply Company of Chicago, and that provides a clue as to how this particular device might have come to be in my father's possession.

Kellogg was a competitor to the Bell Systems; they provided equipment for many of the independents around the country. Back in the day, anyone with the capital and the equipment could go into the telephone business. My grandfather, my mother's father, had just such an exchange located in his home in Johnson County, Texas. The older children in the family worked as operators and repairmen! Here is a picture of my mother's sisters, my Aunt Lou Amma and Aunt Elna "manning" the switchboard.

So it is possible, if not likely, that my father installed a Western Electric (manufacturing arm of the Bell System) telephone in some rancher's home as Southwestern Bell began to provide service in an area previously serviced by just such an independent. He pitched this "off-brand" unit in the back of his truck and it eventually ended up in his garage. I think the penciled-in date, 3/14/1946, is in his hand writing; it is perhaps the date that he took this unit out of service.

The attached telephone, however, is genuine Bell System. Designated the "D1," it was an early 202 model, a series introduced in 1930, and was among the first telephones in the United States with the receiver and transmitter in one piece. It was called the "French" telephone because it was modeled after similar European units.

So why did these two unmatched components end up connected to each other?

The bell. The 200 series hand sets did not have an internal bell - they depended on a smaller, external (usually plastic) box, or "subset" to house the bell. I have no doubt that my father needed a phone somewhere around the house - perhaps an extension in the garage. He had the old D1 hand set (Bell was replacing them with the new, improved, internal-bell 300 series by 1938), and he had a bell unit with the old Kellogg desk set. The magneto was an unneeded part of the equipment at this point.

For many years, old telephone magnetos were highly sought after by fishermen; attach a couple of wires, drop the ends overboard into the water and "telephone for fish" by cranking away on the magneto. The voltage temporarily stunned nearby fish, particularly cat fish, and they floated to the surface to be scooped up. And yes, it is now illegal to do so. So old telephone magnetos are now useful only for practical jokes, and as collector's items. And family heirlooms.

High School days - Stories from the Attic

In our great attic clean-out, we came across several boxes full of keep-sakes - old photos and such. From those, I have mined some blog stories.

During my senior year in high school, I was on the Annual staff. I don't remember how I got that assignment, but it was a demanding position - here we are, hard at work.

We had the last period of the day for Annual staff duties, we were often away from the campus on assignments, and best of all, the entire staff enjoyed a yearly trip to Austin to attend a conference and workshop. More about that trip in a moment.

My official title was "Art Director." That meant I was responsible for the art in the book. Here's the art. Somehow I ended up with the original, scotch tape-stained drawings, stored away in a box in our attic.

The character is a "Nebbish," based on a comic strip drawn by Herb Gardiner that was popular in the day. I drew them to use on the divider pages introducing the various sections of the book; Sports, Personalities, Classes and Organizations. Here's the the finished product.

About that trip to Austin - I have mentioned before that the UIL and extra-curriculum trips to Austin were highlights of the academic year, and we worked hard to get in on as many as possible. Here's the Annual staff, in front of the venerable Driskill Hotel, waiting for our chariot.

 Burk and I seem to have some kind of weapon in hand. I guess what happened in Austin should stay in Austin.  At least the UT campus police were not involved. Not on this trip.

The treasure in the attic has been found!

I mentioned on Monday that my plan to get my children to empty the attic of 45+ years of accumulated stuff in search of some fabulous treasure that might have been inadvertently stored up there was not panning out. I guess I should take pleasure in knowing that my kids are smarter than their old man.

So Barb said Enough! and she crawled up there during our unusually cool mornings last week and dropped handed more than 2 dozen boxes full of stuff down on to me. With the garage floor covered in boxes, we then began the process of sorting through them, trying to determine what was of value and what might be disposed of. Let me just say that after going through a few dusty, crumbling boxes, our standards of what might be valuable dropped to an amazingly low level and we now have an empty attic and a garage full of bulging trash bags!

Goodwill will get a couple of boxes of useable items, and there were some things possibly of value to a teacher of little people, and enough dinosaur material to make up an entire year's curriculum. Barb insists that we did NOT recover any actual dinosaur artifacts, but I'm not so sure.

A number of boxes had old Christmas paraphernalia and Easter baskets and stuffed animals and such. Each item evoked a memory or two, and there were even a couple of misty-eyed moments, but thankfully, these were in the latter boxes and all our nostalgic moments were just about spent, so none of it escaped the trash!

And then there were the boxes of letters and keepsakes and old yearbooks and such. These we have set aside to cull through more carefully. Almost all of it will go into the recycling bin, but it is interesting to look at and comment on. Like pictures of old girl friends. "Why, no, honey - I don't even remember her name."

The big treasure? Okay, I admit that we did not find a long-lost Picasso original, or the violin from the Titanic. But we do treasure an empty attic, and I have a ton of blog material that you will soon see in a new series entitled "Stories from the Attic."