Future Portent

Fifty-four years ago the 1960 Meadowbrook Awards were awarded to Steve Means, Mike Grizzard, Joe Dickerson, Susan Begley, and Sherry Balthrop. The Meadowbrook Award recognized 5 students whose grades were in the top 5% of their 9th grade class (of 220 prox) and who received the highest number of votes from ballots cast by the faculty.

Sherry went to Fort Worth Christian Academy while the other 4 all graduated magna cum laude with the 63 Highlanders. Steve became a successful Dallas commercial real estate developer, Joe and Mike became doctors, and Susan became an artist. That 1960 faculty vote was a pretty good predictor of future potential.

(Gus note:  This article was one of the first published to the blog in 2006.  It has taken 8-years to locate a good photo of this rare award.  Two of our '63s were unable to locate theirs, one has gone on to Buffalo heaven, another hasn't been in touch, and the fifth went to FWCA and no clue after that.  Thanks to our fine EHHS Class of 1964 and Nancy O, one of her Buffalo Class of 1961 recipients. for the image...it's been stored away on a charm bracelet for a long time.) 

The  1961 Meadowbrook Awards (EHHS Class of 1964) went to David Tracy, Nancy O'Neill, Carl Johnson, Carolyn Mitchell, and Barbara Isham.  At EHHS graduation one of these students graduated with Summa Cum Laude honors, three with Magna Cum Laude honors, and one Cum Laude.

The EHHS Social Order – 9.3 – Cliques.3

Part 4 of 4

Joining a class like our ‘63s in the 8^th grade after the core of kids had been in school together for up to 7-years enabled a somewhat detached view of their group dynamics.  The class leaders at that stage were already recognized as smart, attractive, accomplished, and highly competitive.  They were also outgoing, gregarious, and playful.  Finding a smooth entry into that daily flow was something akin to trying to take a drink from a fire hose. 

If you had some competitive skills of your own, they had to make room for you but, even then your space in their “E” ticket ride was somewhat conditional.  Whether you were able to earn any further acceptance into their clique(s) was questionable…I never found a full share but, did manage to make some space for myself later.  Kind of annoyed me.

Electing cheerleaders was probably one of the very first manifestations of certain of us finding popular recognition from our peers; student councils were probably were next.  During this 9^th grade year, the opportunities for additional recognition expanded to include advanced classes, student offices, participation opportunities in certain student productions, school sports teams, and in some of the cliques and/or clicks.  However, membership in one of the latter was restricted to your finding a sponsor already in the “in-crowd” who found you interesting enough to make introductions…a very subtle roadblock for a 14-year old to discern. (Note:  Gay Burton's fine Mom made some or all of those skirts)

Unfortunately, Meadowbrook didn’t produce a yearbook the years we were there but, fortunately we did publish a school newspaper, The Meadowlark, and a few other activities were photographed, leaving a visual record to accompany some of these musings.

This 1958-59 Meadowbrook student council picture (right) is one of the earliest organization pictures that found its way to me and it is a jewel, for it includes future very highly regarded members of the EHHS classes 1962-63-64.  Although it's a 1958 school year picture, predating the subject of this article by one year, it is somewhat revealing in that it shows a subtle change in our preferences from that 8th grade year to the 9th.  Of the 9th grade officers and candidates to follow this group of young leaders, only Bob Dillard survived our referendum; although it is more likely that others simply grew into greater visibility during the ensuing year.  Overall, this 1958 Student Council picture portrays one future Mr. EHHS, two future Miss Big Es, one or two class favorites, and an assortment of very fine young people.

Fall 1959 was a packed few months partly consisting of a championship football season and the election of our class officers.  The few team members highlighted in the collage were among the boys I recall as being the most engaged with our cliques of girls and with one another.

The pictures from the Meadowlark school newspapers showing our slate of nominees for class officers and their “campaign manager” is a good illumination of underlying friendships…each pair were close friends and the entire dozen had standing in the top clique, save for maybe one. 

Left to Right:  Gay Burton and Celia Beall had been in Meadowbrook Elementary (MBE) classes since the early grades and were just starting their second year as Buffalo cheerleaders when the picture was taken; Charlie Rigby and Bob Dillard had been (I think) MBE classmates since the early grades; Glenn Brandon and Kendall McCook had been MBE classmates since the latter elementary grades and were starters on the Buffalo football team that great championship year; Steve Means and Tom Koebernick had been MBE classmates since the first grade and were football starters; Danny McCoy and Larry Guthrie had been Poly Elementary classmates since the first grade and were members of the football team; and Jim Cox and Paul Tate had been MBE classmates since the first grade and had given up football for prominent places in the music department—one a singer; the other, a trumpeter.

And the trio elected to high office by the whole school provided a harbinger of things to come later…Tom Koebernick would continue as class president his Junior and Senior years but after this, we fired Bob Dillard from high class office forever (other than Student Council President)…but, we elected him as Mr. EHHS as a Senior.  I don’t know what happened to Celia…she seemed to go quiet during her EH years…sometimes a sign of having fallen in love but, I don’t know anything about that….however, 54-years later Celia and Gay reunited for one more cheer at our 50^th reunion.  All the boys pictured above, including ol’ Gus (maybe or maybe not pictured) loved these two gals; however, ol’ Gus may be one of the very few to have dated them both at one time or another—and despite some carping to the contrary, they were great dates!

The leading girls’ clique were the girls pictured below in their Stars Over Meadowbrook dance routines.  Our Buffalo cheerleaders and their friends are in the first picture and just below them appear to have been their older counterparts from the future 1962 Highlander class, cut from the same cloth…lovely, outgoing, smart, participants in a number of extracurricular activities and well liked by their classmates.  The thing that seems to have brought them together may have been a shared enthusiasm for dance and music.  Gay Burton had been taking dance lessons for almost 10-years at this point.  And the ’62 group danced together for a number of years.   

 

After the lead clique was this quiet girls’ clique.  They were attractive, quiet, intelligent, and not cheerleaders, which might have been a bit of a handicap in the competitive world of 14-year old courting.  Of course, 14-year olds have never been highly regarded for their good judgment although, I think some of these ladies remain close friends to this day…Gail DeVore and Vicki Held, for instance—every reunion has produced pictures of them closely socializing…no surprise there, I suppose.  I generally recall them as the ones that threw pajama party/sleepovers which we would sometimes raid…but, that may have come later. 

And lastly, were the Girl Scouts.  This was another group of very quiet girls, very smart, and probably unaware at the time that the class arbiters of what was cool and uncool had deemed wearing scout uniforms to school after about 6^th grade was uncool.  But, in my memory of them, they were solid and persistent.  And in this year achieved the highest award bestowed by GSA, the Curved Bar. 

Clicks.  Of course, a "clique" is just another word for a small group of friends where similar preferences, interests, and characteristics gravitate toward a common sense of inclusion with some kindred souls.  On the other hand, a "click" tends to be a group where people gather to explore a common interest and/or capability.  

Seems to me that about 1/4 of us were in one clique or another, and some larger percentage of us found "clicks" such as drama, music, and other elective school sponsored classes, more our style.  The film, Never Been Kissed showed a group of the smart but, somewhat eclectic kids attending a prom dressed as a DNA string...I believe we had a number of these also and that some of them can be found in the "A" honor roll list at right.  Being blessed with a degree of intelligence transcended the more colorful arbiters of "cool and uncool" and thank goodness it did.  The color lines mark the youngsters I recall as being most obviously associated with one another.

Handley.  Members of our Handley contingent have not reported anything like the Meadowbrook "Social Order" I've been describing in this and recent posts.  Several factors probably explain the difference; among them....a smaller student body, fewer new arrivals to their area during the 1950s, a more rural atmosphere, and starting with our Class of 1963 Handley contingent, they were first ones separated from the leavening influence provided so many years by the high school classes in the same building.  They didn't really have time to get their own "Social Order" in gear like the Meadowbrook gang had.

Clearly, Roy, Dianah, and Suzanne "owned" Handley in terms of peer recognition and when they would go into EH next year, they would start a 3-year run that ended very well for each of them.  But more about that later.  Becky Self and Jimmy Aitken were other Handley standouts that maintained a credible presence at EH in face of the Meadowbrook juggernaut.  Linda was there for a year or so, but moved away before graduation, and Jimmy Strong went somewhere else to high school. 

There's more to say but, this one has rolled on long enough for now.  The next and last 9th grade piece I have in mind will address Meadowbrook and its place both in history previous to us and its place as a minor neighborhood Juggernaut in the eyes of a lot of Handley kids that would meet them next year as Sophomores.  

Sophomore year, our first at EHHS, and hands down the worst year of my 5-year run on the East Side...fun ahead !

O.K., the widdle baby goats...so, here we were, 15-years old, the hot girls beautiful and lively as ever, only mildly or less, interested in us (or, at least me), no damned car; actually no D.L. for another year, and even those dumb motor scooters reaching the end of their 2-3 year service life....the bottom of the EH totem pole looming ahead.  Like baby goats, full of it, got some horns but not much to do with them, looking for someplace to stand and something to butt.....absolutely harmless!!

Next:  Juggernaut

The EHHS Social Order – 9.3 – Cliques.2

Part 3 of 4

The 9^th grade at MJH being my second with the future EH Class of 1963, I began to gain notice by some of the various in-crowds…there were several.  And they seemed to be in some kind of competition with one another; the competition being most visibly, the hosting of parties and dances.  It’s likely that these various shindigs were a Mom-sponsored carryover from the elementary grades, for it seemed far more complex than any of the youngsters could have organized on their own.

Making a few discreet inquiries into the memories of others with us those long ago years brought quite a variety of responses; all of them tactful, and some of them pointed…and tactful.  One of the ladies told of being so put off by the MJH clique situation that she chose to attend Tech High School rather than going on to EHHS and be subjected to any more of whatever she had been subjected to at MJH; a Handleyite offered nothing more than, “Ah yes, the Meadowbrook Ladies”; one of our leading lights responded, “an in-crowd?  Definitely”; another EH leading light told of never quite having discovered the key to be a part of the “in-crowd”…which kind of mirrors my own experience.  Whatever was going on was noticed by those in other early EH classes….”somewhat reassuring that even after 50 years, some things retain that pungent aroma.”

“The Breakfast Club,” a 1985 film that dealt with the tribulations of high school social stereotypes, is one of many similar films produced over the years that deal with the same theme.  So, it’s reasonable to assume that the experience is a common one, no matter what generation encountered it, or when.  However, the film did manage to succinctly summarize the general stereotypes into which all of us seemed to fit.  Some of us found fits with more than one of them.  There were Brains, Athletes, Outsiders, Basket Cases, and Princesses.

“Mean Girls,” a 2004 film, takes a less benign tack in illustrating the teenage insider/outsider phenomena, even going far enough to show a map of the social subdivisions at the cafeteria tables.  They seem pretty accurate based on our own experience, although I’d like to think we weren’t quite so snarky as our descendents….but, I don’t really know.

 

For us, our sorting into those stereotypes started about the end of 7^th grade, strengthened in the 8^th grade, and was pretty much set by the 9^th grade.  Whatever dating was occurring that 9^th grade year was mostly a blend of movies at the Gateway, or house parties, or a formal school dance, or the school’s Teen Canteen, all with transportation provided (for the most part) by parents.

Some fateful changes were occurring during this year that I’m sure I didn’t recognize, nor perhaps. did many others.  This 9^th grade year was the one that street-wise Moms took their promising daughters in tow and started working with their makeup, hair, and other “womanly” embellishments.  Although many of those changes were subtle, there were other changes that were striking.  If Mom was skilled in her knowledge of makeup and hair, then those daughters could show up for 9^th grade looking startlingly different than they did just before the summer break a few weeks earlier.  For those whose moms were not similarly skilled, grade 9 could very well have been another of those bewildering times of change that went largely not understood.

With the stereotypes hardened during this 9^th grade school year, it appeared that Athletes were at the top of the school pecking order, if for no other reason than the fall pep rallies, the band, and cheerleaders were focused on their gridiron derring do.  Not many kids missed those pep rallies since they were school sanctioned excuses for not going to class.  Grades earned this year applied to our final high school tally so our class Brains were starting to burrow in on their academic ambitions, Outsiders were moving further outside as the world got larger and more complicated, Basket Cases were still basket cases trying to find ways to cope, and Princesses gained greater prominence especially in their social lives.

Only about 2-years or so beyond puberty, boys were already behind the curve with the gals and I’m sure we scarcely knew it.  The overriding problem for the boys at this stage of our development was mobility, or more succinctly, the lack thereof.  We certainly recognized the problem and some of us made up buttons that read, “Don’t Date Boys With Cars.”  It was a spoof of the Spirit Ribbons we bought for a dime and wore each week, pinned to our tops.  The answer came very quickly when the cheerleaders conspired with the ribbon printer to print up some Spirit Ribbons that replied, “We Don’t Date Boys With Bicycles.”  The dating standards had been irreversibly set.

Adios

The EHHS Social Order – 9.3 – Cliques.1

Part 2 of 4

Since its inception, figuring out how our cliques came together and what bound them so tightly for so long has been one of the objectives of this blog.  Over the years, a number of films on the topic suggest that the juvenile clique phenomena isn’t an isolated occurrence.  I observed it in action once again as my own offspring went through the pubescent school gauntlet of grades 7-12. 

Approaching this topic in a reasonable manner has been a challenge since it involves a number of my old friends from those long-ago days.  They were good kids, some of them could be occasional twits, and for the most part they did well in their post EH lives.  Nevertheless, as a group, there was something about them that had long puzzled me….and, apparently my thoughts were shared by others.  Several current day fellow travelers recounted their own recollections of them and as usual, differing points of view yielded different perceptions.

Interestingly, in digging a little deeper into the psychology of teen-age cliques, I found a wealth of information suggesting that what we experienced is very common.  That makes things easier because as former Texas Governor Ann liked to say, "we couldn’t 'hep' it". 

By the time we understood whether we were a MJH in-crowder or not, it was already a fait accompli and one, that to my knowledge, changed very little throughout our trek toward EH graduation.   Dr. Marie Hartwell-Walker, wrote a scholarly piece on the “Click or Clique” phenomena that has made considering this topic much easier.  She provides reasonable cover for me to thump some of my old friends for their adolescent behavior while acknowledging that mostly everyone outgrew it...but, not without some scars.

Still, when I’ve brought the topic up with a selected few former classmates over the past several years (nearly 50-years on), none of them were without comment.  Well, none except most of the former teen clique perps, who have almost universally eschewed sharing their own comments on the subject.  H-m-m.

Broaching the topic has been a delicate matter even at this late date.  However, to their credit, those who have shared some of their recollections with me have done so with adult moderation and have made good use of the language to clearly convey their thoughts so, I’m more at ease dealing with the topic now.

O.K., at MJH, our future EH Class of 1963 lead clique were the cheerleaders, Gay Burton, Celia Beall, and Julie Hudson.  Closely affiliated with those three were Kay Humphrey, Carole Stallcup, Carolyn Marcotte, Candy Woodward, Sharon Ballem, and maybe a couple others.  To a newly arriving 13-year old boy entering the MJH school already hooked on the notion of having a cheerleader girlfriend sometime down the line, our MJH girls were real goddesses in flowing flannel dresses and flying pom-poms.  Any of the 3 of them would do, since they were all attractive, smart, and full of it.  But Julie was too short for my tall frame; Celia too quiet and a little too well, awesome; so, that left Gay who was neither too quiet nor too short, although pretty awesome in her own right.  Unfortunately, Gay seemed seriously in "like" with that skinny little kid, Roby Morris for reasons I couldn’t understand at that tender age; or, it seemed that Steve Means was always nearby.  Well, ….another unrequited love, and so it goes and so it went.

Audacious lad that I was, it never occurred to me that I might not be in the right “league” for any of those gals.  That’s probably because of my parents’ constant encouragement to aim high and providing wise advice such as, “everyone else puts their pants on one leg at a time, too,” whatever that meant.  At age 13 I had never found anything too challenging to give up on without having a go at it, or her.  By the way, at that young age, you can put your pants on both legs at once, but it can’t be done on every try….

Anyway, as one of my confidants described her, Gay was the “Queen Bee” of that lead clique and she was clearly the livewire of the gang.  There was a second clique that was somewhat more subdued but, no less attractive.  However, they lacked two things Gay’s group had; one, none were cheerleaders and two, they were very, very quiet so, it was difficult for them to gain and hold the attention of very shallow, mostly unfocused 13-14 year old boys…and, that was name of the game at that point in time. 

The second clique seemed to be mostly the girls shown in the 1959 picture below from the Stars Over Meadowbrook show that year.  They were Carol Eldridge, Vicki Held, Jane Welborn, Gail DeVore, Paula Acuff, Judy Hill, and Harriet Hamilton.  More on them in the next installment.

...next, some "clicks"

The EHHS Social Order – 9.2 – Womanclature

Part 1 of 4

Let’s face it…at 14, essentially none of us knew what the heck to do with that boy girl stuff at MJH but, as Harold Ramos’s famous line goes, “we were willing to learn.”  However, owing to the 18-month differential start we got during that puberty business a couple of years earlier, the struggling boys were just loping along behind all those racy girls.  That’s not to say there weren’t some precocious lads however, opportunities were fleeting and often befuddling.

That’s also not to say all our young ladies were racy or racing…they weren’t.  A recurring theme a few of our distaff former classmates shared with me has been that they were very “churchy, prudish, and perhaps more troublingly….good girls.”  There was that traumatic experience of being locked in a closet alone with Charlie Bruce following an adverse “spin the bottle” decision.  Mom rode to the rescue!  On the other hand, if you recall Charlie at that stage, her response wasn’t altogether unreasonable.  A few years later, while living in one of the LA beach communities, I encountered a popular updated version of the game, called, spin the b****  …well, I digress.

Now in general, the 1950s was a confusing decade in which to come of age.  As youngsters, we were in a kind of time-warp consisting of June Cleaver, Harriett Nelson, and Annette juxtaposed with Marilyn, Jayne, and Bridget…and some of those really strange looking girls in the raunchy little magazines hidden behind the “True Detectives” on the 3-L package store magazine rack.  Ward and June slept in twin beds; so did Ozzie and Harriett…or, at least on TV they did.  O.K. so, we’re supposed to try and get close but, not too damned close…hmm.

Our fifties “media” was 3-channels of black & white TV, Life magazine, and whatever fuzzy cheesecake pictures might have occasionally found their way into the Star-Telegram pages.  Then there were those ads for the Jacksonville Highway honky-tonks.

One of the more puzzling aspects of young womanhood during our maturing years may have been those protuberances up front.  By the time 9^th grade rolled in, we had only been aware of them for a couple of years, at most.  Learning what in the heck they were about was still an experience in process.  Of course, we had seen how Mom and maybe a sister or two prepped theirs for public outings but, everywhere else we looked, we saw a variety of shapes and styles. 

Movies broadcast on TV then often featured Myrna Loy so, we got a 1930s image; then the 1940s brought us a lot of  Donna Reed films to help with our visual calibration; however, since the 1950s films were still new, we didn’t see many 1950s movies on TV.  But, there were plenty of contemporary TV shows like Grouchos’ You Bet Your Life, and Bob Cummings’ Love That Bob where we could try to fine-tune our visual calibrations....but, it wasn't easy!

Notwithstanding Bette Perot's dubious efforts at enlightenment, I suppose most of us got a similar Victorian-style introduction to sexuality…which is to say, not much.  Many, perhaps most of our parents married quite young and likely got a pretty truncated introduction to the subject themselves as they were quickly caught up in WWII.  Except for those airmen who rushed into a wartime marriage, the aircrews were essentially all virgins when they served…why else would you think they so enthusiastically embraced the “nose art” phenomena? 

And what else would explain Detroit’s manic focus on tail fins?  If you bought their explanation of it being a tribute to rocket fins and nose cones, think again.

This was confusing stuff and it fell to our generation to figure it out....

Now, I know I promised cliques and tits in the last article’s tease but, this one got to be kind of fun….so, cliques next.  Meanwhile, if tits offends, then consider the effort of a current day college lad who has been pondering the same old question….he came up with 262 alternatives.  Perhaps more amusing…I recognize most of them.

O.K. Burton...you and your mob are up next....

The EHHS Social Order – 9.1 – Sex Ed.

The 9^th grade preliminaries ran a little long in the last article so, here’s a few more thoughts to finish off the intro.

Sports – School and Intramural.  Sports opportunities were plentiful and included all the sports except baseball.  The pictures are interesting in that the school teams were assembled on the basis of ability, while the intramurals were a collection of friends.  The football team was covered in another article.

 

 

Harassment.  If there was any significant amount of it going on, I don’t recall it.  Of course, since I was nearing 6’ tall and my friends were football players, it’s possible that whatever potential problems may have existed were avoided before they began.  Big Sam Scott's 2004 memoir mentions a MJH "Vigilante" squad to deal with bullies about this time but, since his son, Sampson III, was a good friend, I don't recall hearing a thing about it. 

 

Meadowlark Newspaper.  It’s too bad that MJH didn’t put a yearbook together like they did at Handley.  We might have then had a better photo record of those years.  I’m not too sure what criteria was established for choosing a newspaper staff at either Meadowbrook or Eastern Hills, but do recall it being an elective that required an application for the limited spots available.  It seemed to attract some of our more ambitious students and their work in producing the publications served as perhaps the most complete record of daily life around the schools that may now exist.  A cursory review of a graciously shared 1960 HJH yearbook shows no reference to a HJH newspaper at that school. 

 

 

There was some spillover of the Meadowlark staff to the Tartan at EH, but not as much as I would have thought.  At Meadowbrook, it appears to have been something of a popular class for the more aspiring youngsters, while at Eastern Hills, it appears to have been those who might have been more serious writers.  On the other hand, with Dillard aboard, anything was possible, and Bob Dillard went on to be a West Texas newspaperman. 

 

 

Perot & sex ed.  Meadowbrook Junior High in the 1950s was a sort of nursery for future stars.  Springing from its innards and roaring out the doors each afternoon was a stream of future hi-potential youngsters.  Poly received its product until 1959, when the new Eastern Hills High School opened and took over the finishing job.

 

Just within the scope of this blog’s focus, I’ve identified future doctors, dentists, engineers, lawyers, judges, members of Congress, investment bankers, commercial developers, Navy and airline pilots, screen writers, Pulitzer Prize winners, mayors, professors, principals, teachers, flight attendants, nurses, artists, writers, businessmen and  owners, contractors, D.C. lobbyists, and accountants; many of them scattered throughout the USA and the world.

 

As producers of thousands of children and now, grandchildren, many of them got their start right within the walls of the East Side’s Meadowbrook Junior High School.  While, to my knowledge, none…or very few of them got their start reproductive starts during those years…some of them soon would.

 

And to help ready those future stars and others, MJH had just the ticket…an 8^th grade course euphemistically called, Health & Safety.  And just the teacher…a banty hen sized lady by the name of Bette Perot.  Yep, Ross’s older sister.  She ruled her classes with an iron hand and the demeanor that Ross later made famous during his flirtation with the Presidency…they were like two peas in a pod.  I recall very little of the class, other than it was substantially clinical in nature…lots of drawings and name the parts, etc.  Somewhere around here, I still have a notebook from that class; the only thing of real interest was a record Miss Perot had everyone jot down…their height and weight at the start of the (8^th grade) year and another record at year's end.  I had only gained about 2-lbs but, by the end of the year I was something like 6” taller.

 

Anyway, Ross is 5’5”.  Bette is shorter than that and we encountered her several years before Ross left his IBM sales job to start EDS.

 

 

 

Cliques & tits next...

Tri-Sagas at Sagamore Hill - The McCoys & McCooks

(Gus note:  Another amusing recollection written by Danny recalling his early memories of befriending Kendall; this one covering their first meetings and baseball.  Other words about these two friends of mine have been published in the blog…..Kendall’s A Song for Leo….and one I wrote recalling both of them.  Good kids, good men.)

 Tri-Sagas at Sagamore Hill 

by Danny McCoy

After the fall semester of my 7th grade at William James High School we moved from Avenue A in Poly to Hampshire Blvd. The new house provided more room for our family of five. Ronnie and I still shared a room, but our younger sister, Jana, now had a room for herself. The lot was deep enough so that my dad fenced in an old chicken yard so that his horse, Sliver, also had a new corral. Silver served dad well as he was a member of the Mounties in the Moslah Shriners.

Across the street on Hampshire was the Sagamore Hill Baptist Church parsonage for Pastor Fred & Elizabeth Swank.  They had a double lot which provided spill over parking when committee members or others from the congregation came to visit.

I soon discovered the McCook family who lived a block away. We immediately had a kinship. Kendall was my age and he too had an older brother named Danny who had enrolled in the new Eastern Hills. My brother Ronnie chose to remain at Poly High School. Kendall and I would often walk to my new Junior High, Meadowbrook. We went through the football spring training and spent several summer mornings at Sagamore Hills Elementary.  If I recall, Kendall, soon to be the new quarterback would stand in the shade on the playground and throw passes as I learned the right end post routes - slant, stop & go while trying to catch passes in the sun. We went on to play together at Meadowbrook and our team won the City Championship in 1959.

Kendall also introduced me to Sagamore Hill Baptist Church. Although my family was active members at Ash Crescent Methodist Church, Sagamore had more extensive and active youth programs. They were constantly recruiting young Christian soldiers. You did not have to be a member to participate in the program, but you had to be in attendance at a church function at least once a week. So for the summer of 1959, I was to become a Royal Ambassador.

The Reverse Steal

Sagamore was part of the church softball league in Fort Worth.  On our team I was assigned to Right Field. In the major leagues Right Field is reserved for the big sluggers such as Josh Hamilton. In the church league, Right Field was for the weakest of the nine players. In practice I could only manage to catch 80% of the pop flies that came my way. And since it was embarrassing to drop a ball now and then, I would move close to the edge of the infield.  The thought process was that if the ball was hit over my head, my teammates would be more tolerant and tolerant of my occasional drops.

So one summer night while swatting mosquitoes, the batter hit a sharp single that took one bounce into my glove.  I turned to throw to Second base as coached. But since I was already so close to the infield, I redirected my throw to First.  The runner was out and my fellow teammates who had poor depth perception let loose with enthusiastic shouts for the perceived power of my newly found strong arm. As the inning ended and as in most memorable defensive efforts, the player that performs well seems to come up to immediately bat. So as I brushed off the congratulatory comments in the dugout, I picked up a discarded bat and headed for home plate.

On the very first pitch I hit a strong chopper down the Third base line. It was just high enough that I was able to beat out the throw for an infield hit.  There were no First or Third base coach for base runners. We were on our own. So in a lull I easily stole Second base. My teammates were now supporting my renewed presence on the field.

Within this unique moment a fifteen year old teenager standing on a field-of-dreams can be somewhat confused and teeter between self-confidence and over-confidence. Teenagers can be cocky and arrogant at the same time. And they can be both naturally annoying and so was I.

So in was in this self-centered moment with the Second Baseman keeping me close to the base, I decided to steal another base. This time I opted for First base instead of Third base since it was going to be somewhat easier. So with a sudden burst of speed and a cloud of white dust I slid back into First base. At first I suspect that everyone thought I was heading to the dugout, but when I remained, dusting myself off and standing on the base the two umpires came over to discuss this unique situation. The play eventually stood and it was my first reverse steal!

After the forced confusion, play continued and I was just determined to steal Second again as they were not to let me. With the encouragement of my excited and now befuddled teammates,

I put on a bit of an obnoxious agitating show at First base. The pitcher was intent on preventing me from stealing again. He tried to pick me off several times. It was during this distraction that he ended up walking the second batter.  I was now back on Second base and it was a magical moment.  There was no end to my taunts.  I quizzed the Short Stop and the Second Baseman.  Have I been here before? And for the first time in my young life I was able to use a foreign word in the correct context:   Does this seem like deja vu to you too?

The bizarre inning came to a close when one of our better players hit a double and the score was now 2 to 0.  As I made my triumphal return to the dugout, the coach pulled me from the game and sent me to the bench (something about lack of Baptist sportsmanship).  His lack of understanding of the purpose of the game most likely limited any future coaching opportunities for him. I of course will always remember my reverse steal. It also reminds me to always review where you have been and the consequences that got you where you are today.

Bible Sword Drill

This educational religious exercise is not as wide spread as I first thought. When I retell the story to other Sword Drill participants there seems to be different rule variations in the many conferences.  Early on I had read the entire Bible as part of the challenge of the Methodist Youth Fellowship. There was probably a free pizza incentive included. At that point it was the only biblical competition that I was aware of.  But the Southern Baptist had a nifty way to get their youth to know the Good Word.  In the competitive Bible Sword Drill youngsters would line up on the stage or next to the altar steps waiting for the instructions:  Soldiers of Christ draw your swords.  We would then pull up our Bibles that were at our side and prepare for the challenge.  When any event was offered at Sagamore, Pastor Swank would always do it right.  When he announced from the Sunday night pulpit that the winner of the Sword Drill would get to go free to summer camp at Latham Springs, he had my complete attention - even without the Ritalin.  Latham Springs Baptist Camp & Retreat just southeast of Hillsborough was a sought after destination. 

Since I was not a member, I had to get permission from the Youth Committee to compete. With limited funds at home, this would be my only opportunity to join my friends for a week of fun interrupted by brief gospel moments.  I was focus on my goal.  After several qualifying rounds, I somehow managed to be included in the final twelve contestants. My Bible was old, but I was familiar with the index and there was an identifiable indention between the Old and New Testaments.

As we stood before the congregation, I noted that there were more girls than boys. I just knew that one of those non-dating, studious females was going to interfere with my fun in the sun.

The three judges explained the rules, but they were somewhat confusing. A scripture would be called out and the participants would have to locate as quickly as possible the chapter and verse.  The proctor would say:  2nd Corinthians, 7th Chapter, 11th Verse. At that point the student soldier would step forward prepared to read on request:  It is difficult to be confronted with our sin and -

If you were the last one to step forward or if you somehow read the incorrect verse, it could be a cause for elimination. And although if you were the first one to step forward that did not necessarily mean that you would be the first required to cite what you had located. The judges would also randomly select as a touchstone, different contenders to read to make sure all were participating honestly.

After a rather long anxious session we were down to the Final Three.  I started to feel the cold water at Latham Springs caressing my body; taste the early morning hot pancakes with maple syrup; singing Kum Ba Yah while consuming campfire baked endless s’mores; visualize my canoe gliding across the lake; eating the gospel bird on Sunday signifying the end of the camp or capturing a glimpse of a mystery wispy Dallas girl with her long hair and freckles on her  . . .   And suddenly my private serene moment was interrupted by  Proverbs, 23rd Chapter, 23rd Verse  . . .

I was just on the final precipice to reach of my summer goal.  Only two girls stood in my way. Chapter and verses were now being called out in rapid fire. In this final stage of the competition the congregation could sense that the Drill was coming to a close. I had step forward for three times. I was first on one and second on the other two. Yet, all three times, I was the one singled out to cite the required verse.  On the fourth verse request, I just knew they would not call on me for four times in a row. So as soon as the chapter and verse was called out, I fumbled a bit and step forward. The two group daters shyly followed behind me. So I was startled when the judge called out my name for the fourth straight time!

Those that were there that summer night including myself were not quite sure what happened next.  Did I actually find the 23rd  Verse before the Bible somehow fell from my grip or was it just an adolescent ruse?  Did God intervene to cause the Good Book to tumble in slow motion to the floor so that a Methodist boy could best the Baptist at their own game?  The judges gathered to discuss. Nothing like this had ever happened before. 

There was a restless mummer in the pews.  A dark shadow approached and hovered over the judges table. Then an announcement was made: The judges have decided that all three of you have won a free trip to summer camp!

As I had expected the camp was just as great, thanks to my neighbor. Yes, it was Pastor Fred Swank that had risen from his seat to convince the judges to allow the McCoy Boy free passage. Even then we knew Pastor Swank was legendary.  During his 42 year tenure, he was a catalyst for over 100 young people who entered the ministry.  When asked what was behind the success and rapid growth of his ministry. He replied that it was very simple and it could be summed up in 4 letters:  C A M P.  Amen Brother Swank

The Whisper

Our Baseball coach at Sagamore Hill Baptist Church was the Assistant Youth Director. He was also the Basketball coach; taught a Sunday School class; work with the youth choir; served as Camp facilitator; hosted fund raising activities; offered counseling services; sponsored a Boy Scout troop and was in charge of the Royal Ambassador program. He was not that multi-talented, he just seemed to want to be around young people. The Church provided his housing near the east parking lot. So he would always available for those of us who did not have transportation to all the events.

When we were returning from the baseball & basketball games, we would occasionally go Billboarding (this is where each one of us would select a billboard and become a part of it as the others would turn around and drive by for the full effect). You could climb up and pretend to be stuck on a buttered slice of Mrs. Baird’s Bread or have your behind burned by the cancer stick the Marlboro Man was holding. There were always plenty of laughs and we were always treated to late night fast food snacks. It was our only chance to cruise like the California kids.

There was an informal, unorganized game that we played on the way home, called the Whisper. It goes something like this:  At the next stop sign get Mike which was code for jumping on Mike; taking all of his clothes off except for his BVDs or Fruit-of-the Looms; pushing him out of the car and leaving him on the side of the road or the median. Of course we would eventually turn around and pick him up or if we decided to extend this hilarious adventure, we would do repeat drive-bys and throw out clothing articles and sometime it would be his own clothes! Note that  if you did not receive the Whisper, it meant that you were the target.

Kendall and I had little to worry about. We took care of each other and if the Whisper happened to be one of our names, we deflected and change it back to some other unsuspecting pimple face peer.  And because we lived close to each other, we were always dropped off together. We had already learned and out instinct was  never be the last one to be taken home. 

Then one night when we were in the middle of the back seat rugby scum in search for the victim’s clothes, Kendall and I caught a frightening sight. Our Assistant Youth Minister had an excited leering look that we had never seen before. It was very creepy. The Whisper had turned into something else. As the whispers grew and questions were being asked, the Assistant was soon assisted off the church campus.