An Innocent Man the Life and Times of an American Baby Boomer: Part 1 from the Beginnings Through the 1960S

AN INNOCENT MAN

The Life and Times of an

American Baby Boomer

Part 1

From the Beginnings through the 1960’s

by

Gene Baumgaertner

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© Copyright 2011 Gene Baumgaertner.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

DISCLAIMER

This book is a work of fiction. Some aspects of the events have actually occurred, but have been fictionalized, as have the characters. Any resemblance of the characters to real persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America.

isbn: 978-1-4269-5131-2 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4269-5134-3 (e)

Trafford rev. 01/26/2011

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Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

APPENDIX

DEDICATION

In Memory of the Ones Who Started It All

Louis Richard Baumgaertner

and

Gloria Deloris Kennedy Abel Baumgaertner

To the One Who Helped Carry It Through

In Fond Appreciation and Love

Kathy Anne Herrin Baumgaertner

And

To the Future

William Edward Fitzpatrick

and

Nathan Alexander Rednowers

RECOGNITION AND CREDITS

POEMS AND SONG LYRICS

by Gene Baumgaertner

Chapter 2, The Big Wormy

Chapter 6, Daisies

The Demon of Fphud

Ballad of Why I Hate to Ride the Homeward Bus After School

An Ode to Beer

Ballad of the Dodge Dart Six and the Falcon V-8

Chapter 7, A Bold Fighting Man Lies

and First Kiss

Chapter 4

Charlie Brown by Jerry Leiber & Mike Stoller;

My Boy Lollipop by Morris Levy & Johnny Roberts;

Midnight Special by traditional

Stay by Maurice Williams

Chapter 7

We Come From Phi Sig – traditional fraternity song

My Girl by Smokey Robinson & Ronald White

Unchained Melody by Alex North & Hy Zaret

Chapter 10

The Mayor of Bridgewater – traditional rugby song

The Party at Inverness – traditional rugby song

I Don’t Want to Join the Army – traditional rugby song

Zulu Warrior – traditional rugby song

Light My Fire by Robby Krieger and the Doors

CHAPTER ONE

THE BEGINNINGS

Late 1945 to Early 1946

During unexpected periods in my adult life, I have been a SINK (Single Income, No Kids). It’s funny. I enjoy being single. But it seems that most of my adult life has been spent being married. And a good portion of that has been spent as a DINK (Double Income, No Kids). But the truth of the matter is that I enjoy being married, too.

Perhaps I’m just a survivor, making the best of whatever life presents to me. I hope that’s the explanation, or something similar. I hope that it’s not that I’m emotionally dysfunctional, or something even worse. One or two of my wives would probably vote for dysfunctional, or worse. But what do they know? Despite the first two failures, I married a third time. With that great leap of hope and optimism, I became a DIOK (Double Income, One Kid), but more about that later.

I’m sure that my siblings have from time-to-time thought that I was a YUP (Young Upwardly-mobile Professional). You know… I was the big achiever of the family. Nice house. Decent income. Late model, sporty-type car (not too late, not too sporty, not too expensive, but satisfying). I also seem to go away to exotic places when I go on vacation. It’s true, I love to travel. I have a professional job with long hours. And sometimes I work late into the night, and even work Saturdays and Sundays (you know, whatever it takes to get the job done). I guess that goes with the image of a YUP. So I guess from their perspective, I seemed like a YUP. At least until I went through yet another change-of-life recently. Now they probably just think that I’m crazy. Or worse, foolish.

But I wasn’t really a YUP. It didn’t suit my temperament. I don’t drive the right kind of car … you know, one of those foreign jobs that’s well-engineered, expensive, and well-advertised – so that everybody knows that you’re driving a well-engineered, expensive, foreign-made car.

Plus, YUP’s don’t last forever. They grow up … grow older … become MALT’s (Middle-Aged, Level Trajectory … no longer upwardly mobile … trying to stay agile … trying to avoid the decline and fall).

I don’t have the right wardrobe either. I do order some of my clothes from L. L. Bean and Lands End. I’ll admit that right up front. That’s because I like the styles (they never go out of style), and I hate to shop. But my clothes surely aren’t preppy, nor am I into the latest fads. My clothes are simply comfortable, durable, and rarely look completely out-of-style. And that’s a good thing, because I can’t tolerate throwing an article of clothing out until it’s become thread-bear. You’d think I was a child of the Depression. No, I am just the first-born child of two children of the Depression.

For the longest time I believed that I was one of those Type A personalities. You know, Type A, Not B, because we always have to be first at everything. Or the best … or the most successful … or the biggest producer. What makes us act like that? I suspect that it has something to do with the fact that most of us are first-borns, but maybe not.

Some people immediately recognize me as a Type A. Others don’t. They’re even surprised that I would suggest that I’m a Type A. They think I’m a Type B. So I guess I’m not really a good Type A.

Maybe I’m not pushy enough. I don’t try to dominate meetings (although sometimes I do – dominate them, that is). And I almost never try to make everyone think the way I do. Can you imagine? Everyone agreeing with you all the time? That would make for a pretty bland world. What would be the fun in that? That would be like only liking vanilla ice cream. I happen to like chocolate … and vanilla fudge … and peach … and pistachio.

I don’t always have to be right – just most of the time. I don’t have to have total agreement, just general acceptance. So maybe I don’t have enough of the outward trappings of being a Type A. But I don’t think I’m a true Type B. Maybe I’m just a borderline Type A.

Although over time one’s perspective changes. Many times these days, even I wonder if I’m not really a Type B masquerading as a Type A.

But I’m really getting away from the story. I am a BABY BOOMER. There’s no doubt about that. I’m one of the umpty-ump millions of us that started to be produced after the Big One. That’s the Big War, not to be confused with the Great War. I’ve always wondered why they refer to the First World War that way. What was so Great about it anyway? When you think about it, it seems fairly mediocre in relation to the Big One.

There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Second World War was the Big One. Even though there have been some pretty spectacular Little Ones since the Big One. Korea, both during and after, was pretty intense. Although you’d have to visit Korea to know just how weird a mark that war left on its people.

Vietnam, now there was a military conflict to consider. Wasn’t even a war - just a police action. Right. Police Action. Maybe that’s why we lost that one. Didn’t have enough policemen over there to arrest North Vietnam. Whatever you want to call it, it left a hell of a mark upon this country. We’re still not over it yet. Perhaps, more accurately, many of us baby boomers still aren’t quite over it. Generations have since sprung up that aren’t even sure where Vietnam is.

Grenada was great, for a tiny war. But most people these days probably don’t even remember Grenada, or that we invaded that tiny Caribbean island. I do … but then I’m a baby boomer.

And then there was Desert Storm. Wow. Now that one was great for the morale of America. Almost made us forget Vietnam. Maybe it did make us forget. And it probably was great for the morale of most other countries. Unless you’re an Iraqi. Then it wasn’t so great.

And I don’t mean to forget the Invasion of Iraq, although I’d like too. It was a real war, of sorts, and a long, painful occupation. I just think that we fought the wrong enemy at the wrong time. Yes, I too wanted to get rid of Saddam Hussein. I was just in to the politically incorrect approach – like assassination, or undermining his government. When that war started, I was in the minority. Now I’m not so sure.

Yes, all those Little Ones were big in one way or another, but none of them were quite like the Big One. And I sincerely hope that there will never be a Bigger One. Ahhh, the hope of my entire generation. No more war. At least, no more Big Wars. But again I digress.

I’m one of the real baby boomers, not one of those late comers that arrived in the late fifties or early sixties. How they could ever be called baby boomers, I’ll never understand. But we baby boomers have had such a marked impact upon our society, dare I say it, the world, that there are a lot of people out there that want to imitate us. The purest form of flattery, so I’m told.

Yes, I’m the real thing. The hip generation. The now generation. The get-out-of-our-way generation. I’m one of the products of all that pent up lust that was deferred for so many years while America put its energies into winning the Big One. My parents got married even before they got their discharge papers, and I appeared on the scene a year later.

Who am I? Well, my name is Edgar Rice Baker. Variously known throughout the years as Freckle-Face, Rice-Krispy, Honeyboy, Eddie B, E.R., and some less complimentary sobriquets. And, well, this is the story of my life. But more about me later. Let’s just suffice it to say that one of my father’s favorite childhood authors was Edgar Rice Burroughs, the creator of Tarzan. And Baker wasn’t the surname of my father’s father, but his real last name was Anglicized during the Great War.

Now where was I? Oh yes. All of my siblings are also true baby boomers, coming right on schedule, one each year. Well, not exactly. Dixie Belle was born a year after me. Then somehow my parents skipped a beat, so the next arrival came a year and a half late. But they made up for that by having twins: John Rhett and Judith Scarlette. Four babies in three and a half years. Then, somehow, the babies stopped coming.

My parents met during the war. My mother was a Southern belle, a rebel blue-blood, a bona fide daughter of the American Revolution, born in the Heart of Dixie. Until the Great Depression, her family was fairly well-to-do. She lived in hotels, ate in restaurants, rode in fancy cars, and had her every want attended to by a maid, or a cook, or a bellboy. Then the Depression hit, and they had nothing. She even had to live out on her cousin’s farm for awhile, separated from parents and brothers, because the family had such a hard time making ends meet.

She may have been a bit of a blue-blood, without the money to go along with it, but she also had a very wide patriotic streak. When the war began, she had to do something to help us win it. So, against her mother’s express wishes, and in the face of threats to be ostracized from the family, she enlisted in the WACs.

They say opposites attract. My parents demonstrate the truth of this axiom. My father was a New York Yankee, born of lowly, German immigrants who worked from sun-up till sun-down, trying to make a better life for their children. I guess that makes me a half-breed. A Northerner, with Southern sympathies. A New York Yankee in King Dixie’s court.

My father had a much more pragmatic approach to the war than my mother. Let somebody else fight it. He was not anxious to be drafted. He had a flashy car, a steady job, a string of girl friends, knew a number of hot night spots, and was living the good life. Heck, it was a European thing anyway, let the Europeans knock themselves out. Until December seventh, at any rate. Then he couldn’t get drafted, even if he wanted to. He wore glasses, and it turned out he had a punctured ear drum. So they wouldn’t take him. He had to stay in New York, helping the cause in his own way. He tried his best to not let the fact that so many other guys were on their way to Europe or the Pacific, keep him down for too long. He managed for awhile.

By the second year of the war, they needed guys with punctured ear drums. So he was inducted into the Army. In a fit of genius born of desperation, he sent a telegram to some General in Washington, and managed to get himself into the Army Air Transport Command. His first assignment was with the Ferrying Command of the ATC, and for awhile he was helping to fly new bombers to the front, and flying war-weary ones back home. Then he got transferred to the Fireball Express, where he flew cargo and personnel from Stateside to the European front, via the south Atlantic route. The trip took him down to Brazil, across to the Ascension Islands, over to the African coast, and then up towards either North Africa or Europe.

Eventually he got really lucky, and got himself transferred to the Caribbean Command. And then, by the vagaries of fate that are so common to a war-time situation, he found himself at the disposal of a General who had more than just winning a war on his mind. Suddenly he was making whiskey runs down to Nassau, taking the General on personal trips to Havana – he never thought to ask why they were going to Havana – and was island hopping all over the Caribbean. It was tough work, but somebody had to do it. See, everyone could contribute to winning the war, even guys with punctured ear drums who wore glasses. But personal lives were put on hold until it was over.

Towards the end of the war, my father was stationed first in Miami, and then in West Palm Beach. Not bad places to fight out the war. He had no car to speak of, but he had a steady job, a new string of girl friends, knew a number of hot night spots, and was living the good life. But things like that can’t go on indefinitely. It’s a law of nature. It was at this point in his life that my mother entered the picture. It changed my father’s life forever. And that turned out to be a good thing for me. And for my siblings.

My mother was, by most strict standards, not what you would call beautiful. But she was attractive, witty, vivacious, fashionable, and had the poise of a Southern lady. And man, could she dance – jitterbug, soft shoe, waltz, you name it, she could really strut her stuff. She had a combination of those traits that was particularly attractive to men, especially men at war.

Men were attracted to her like moths to a flame, like bees to honey, like fly-boys to the web. Like… well, you get the picture. Most men found her difficult to resist. They couldn’t help themselves. She was easy on the eyes, appreciated a good joke and could tell one right back at you, could throw down a man-sized drink, could dance all night long, and … well, she was there. But she hadn’t found the right man yet, so she never got really serious with any of them. Oh, she was almost constantly engaged to be married, sometimes to more than one lucky fellow at a time, but she was never really serious. Near the end of the war, she got re-stationed to Miami, and then to West Palm Beach.

One day she and her girlfriends were sitting in a friendly, local watering hole, gossiping about the recent war news, the newest men on base, the change in fall fashions, the latest hair styles, the most recent colors in lipsticks and fingernail polish, all the things that make life truly worth living, when a tall, dark-haired, aviator-type walked in. He had apparently just returned from a flight, and was still wearing his leather flight jacket. As he walked through the door, he brushed off some of the journey’s dust, and moseyed over to the bar to join some friends. He ordered an ice cold beer.

Who’s that, my mother asked breathlessly. No, don’t turn around, she admonished belatedly, as all the feminine heads turned as one, locks flaring outward, eyes searching diligently, trying to see who ‘that’ was.

Her friend Jeannie scrutinized the males at the bar, and after determining that Augusta was referring to the most recent arrival, told her he was one of the aviators from the 528th. I’ve met him, she added. He seems a bit aloof to me. And … he’s a Yankee.

He’s a dream-boat, my mother sighed.

Jeannie seemed surprised. Then she and Sally Beth and Lucy turned and covertly scrutinized the latest addition. Tall … dark hair … broad shoulders … engaging smile … flashing eyes … finely chiseled face with a Roman nose. The umms and ahhs made it unanimous. He was a very attractive looking man.

I’ve got to meet that man, my mother said with quiet determination.

But, Augusta, you’re engaged, Jeannie reminded her.

I tell you, that’s the man I’m going to marry. I’ve got to meet him.

Well, Augusta, I don’t know…, pouted Jeannie.

They all tried to watch him, the tall aviator-type at the bar, without getting caught staring. It was a skill that most women had perfected far better than men. They watched him chat with two of his buddies for about a quarter of an hour. The men never even knew they were being assessed minutely. Meanwhile, it was obvious that the men were scoping out all the women in the place, this table included.

After a while, Jeannie asked, What are you going to do?

I don’t know. Let me think for a moment.

She was a determined woman. Frown-lines creased her forehead as she concentrated on the problem at hand. Once she put her mind to it, there were few things in life that she couldn’t overcome. Suddenly her face brightened.

Jeannie, you go right over to him, and you tell him that I’ve got a bone to pick with him.

A bone to pick?

Yes, you go tell him.

Are you sure? You’ve never met him. You’ve never even talked to him before … a bone to pick?

Jeannie, just do it.

When Jeannie had delivered her message, the tall New Yorker stared pensively into his bottle of beer. A bone to pick? Do I know this girl, he asked himself.

He glanced briefly in the direction that Jeannie had retired to. As she sat, she giggled a comment to a petite brunette with flashing eyes and expressive features. Oh no, he thought to himself, it’s that girl. He had not yet met her, but he had seen her around the base a couple of times. She seemed rather popular, perhaps too popular. Men were always hanging around her. Even now, two airmen stopped at her table to flirt.

He had a problem. Underneath that suave, calm exterior, from which glib lines poured so readily, there lurked a painfully shy man. On a casual basis, he seemed to, well, if not sweep girls off their feet, at least keep them both interested, and yearning to come back for more. But if he got really interested in a girl, if he thought that she was really beautiful, or glamorous, or a real doll, he immediately got tongue-tied. He could barely hold up his end of the conversation. The words just seemed to get all twisted around. So to hide his shyness, he would barely speak at all. And since most of the time he was so personable, he would suddenly come off as aloof, or indifferent, or a snob. Yes, he had a problem. For he thought that the brunette sitting next to Jeannie was a knock-out.

Now what? He’d have to do something, and quickly. A bone to pick? Had he snubbed her in some way? Had some of his buddies been telling tales behind his back? Well, he better go over and do damage control right now, and hope that he didn’t cause more damage by his reticence. Gathering his beer, and winking confidently at his comrades, he ambled over to her table.

So, Augusta, he already knew her name. You have a bone to pick with me?

Hey, Karl. Jeannie had done some quick intelligence gathering, and found out his name from the passing airmen, so Augusta knew his name too. What a pleasure that you decided to stop by and say hello. Please have a seat. Here, this one next to me will be vacant for awhile. Sally Beth said she was going over to the telephone to call her mother. See you in a while, Sally Beth, honey lamb.

With a quick glance of feigned exasperation at Jeannie, eyebrows arching and eyes slightly bulging, Sally Beth jumped up from her seat next to Augusta, politely excused herself, mumbled something about her mother, and disappeared into the milling crowd.

Karl gulped quietly to himself, and sat down. To cover his lingering apprehension, he took a long pull from his beer bottle.

I was just telling Jeannie and Lucy and Sally Beth how I would dearly love to talk to someone from New York, explained Augusta. I just love the accent, and I think New York is such an interesting place … .

With that opening, the conversation took off. Jeannie and Lucy eventually excused themselves, and left Augusta and Karl to their own devices. They talked for the next hour and a half. The picking of bones never came up. And Karl never had a chance to even think about whether or not he was keeping up his end of the conversation. He had never met a girl quite like Augusta before. She could hold up nine-tenths of the conversation, and never seem like she was making an effort at it. Because she wasn’t. The words just flowed naturally. And he loved that voice. And the Southern accent! Wow! And those sparkling eyes. Holy Cow, you could get lost forever in those sparkling brown eyes.

Four months later, after an expensive dinner in a swanky place, he asked her to walk with him over to the park, where they could sit on a bench, and gaze at the moon. In those days it was safe to sit alone in a secluded park.

It was the seventeenth of the month - the fourth monthly lunaversary since they had started courting. She noticed that he was carrying a small, plain brown paper bag. Each lunaversary since they had started seeing each other, he would give her a present. The first month, it had been a Milky Way candy bar. The second month, it had been a gold watch. The third month he had given her an orchid to wear in her hair. She knew that he carried another present in that brown, paper bag. She wondered what it might be.

They talked until it was very late. The moon was gibbous, and lit up the entire park, throwing light in great swaths across the well tended lawns, and casting dark shadows under the palm trees and ornamental shrubs. Jasmine and oleander permeated the air, carried on gentle breezes in the cool night. After awhile, they both seemed to forget the brown, paper bag. They talked of families, and home towns, and what it might be like to raise a family of their own.

Suddenly the clock tower struck. He had to get her back before curfew. They both stood up, and the brown paper bag fell to the ground. He kissed her tenderly upon the lips, passion oh so gently conveyed. As she stepped back, catching her breath, she kicked the bag.

Oh, what’s this? she asked.

He reached down, lifted the bag, and handed it to her without saying a word. Suddenly there was a significant lump in his throat, and it felt like his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.

She held the bag tightly in one fist, looking deeply into his eyes. What she saw there filled her with happiness. She kissed him gently on the lips. Then slowly and deliberately, she opened the bag. Inside was a small, velvet box. She stopped, held her breath, and looked again into his eyes.

He looked back into hers. He was drunk, intoxicated by the beauty of her face, by the fragrance of her, mixed with jasmine and oleander, by the kindness of her soul, by the gentleness of her spirit, and by the depth in her eyes. He realized that not only was she holding her breath, but he was holding his too.

She opened the box, and held it to the light of the nearly-full moon. A one-carat, marquise-cut diamond ring threw a rainbow of light into both of their eyes.

Two months later, on the seventeenth of the month, in a little chapel in West Palm Beach, they were married.

CHAPTER TWO

THE BIG WORMY

Early Autumn, 1950

The Times …

The year 1950 saw a lot of events and changes that would impact many of us for most of our adult lives. In early January, Britain recognized Communist China … in late January, France recognized the South Vietnamese government of Bao Dai, while the Soviets recognized the Communist government of Ho Chi Minh … a week later, the U.S. recognized South Vietnam … on the first day of March, Klaus Fuchs, who had fled Nazi Germany in 1933, was sentenced to 14 years in prison for giving away British and U.S. nuclear secrets to the Soviets … on June 25, North Korea invaded South Korea … two days later, President Truman ordered U.S. troops into Korea … the same day, Truman took another fateful step, and sent 35 U.S. advisors to Vietnam to assist against Communist aggression there … world stability seemed to be teetering, and in mid-September, fearing possible aggression from the Soviet bloc, the U.S., Britain and France agreed to provide for the defense of West Germany, and to allow West Germany to help defend itself and the rest of Western Europe … a month later, China invaded Tibet … by late November, Communist China had officially entered the Korean War … in December, as things worsened for the allies, U.N. forces retreated towards the 38th parallel … and by year-end, there were 16 countries fighting in South Korea.

Closer to home, Harry S Truman (D) was President and Alben W. Barkley (D) was his Vice President … in late January, President Truman ordered development of the hydrogen bomb … less than a month later, Senator Joseph McCarthy launched an anti-Communist crusade against Communists in the Federal government … in late summer, Truman ordered the U.S. Army to seize all U.S. railroads, to avoid a nationwide strike – this was the second time that the railroads had been seized by the Federal government in a little over two years … in early October, Charles Schultz created the comic strip Peanuts … two gentlemen by the names of Frank Macnamara and Ralph Schneider created a new financial instrument, a cardboard credit card, which would allow people to buy food and drinks on credit – they called it the Diner’s Club – and this was the beginning of the credit card revolution… and Edgar Rice Burroughs, the creator of Tarzan and a number of other imaginary characters and worlds, died.

In science and technology, Cadillac offered a one-piece windshield … RCA announced it could make a 3-color TV picture tube … the jet fighter saw its first combat as a U.S. F-86 downed a MiG-15 … the sequel to the room-sized computer known as the ENIAC, the EDVAC (Electronic Discrete Variable Automatic Computer) was produced, it was the first computer to use magnetic disks for storage … and Bell Laboratories and Western Electric created the first telephone answering machine.

In the world of entertainment, the top five songs of the year were Good Night Irene by Gordon Jenkins and the Weavers, Mona Lisa by Nat King Cole, The Third Man Theme by Anton Karas, followed by two songs by Bing Crosby and his son, Gary, Sam’s Song and Simple Melody.

The top five highest grossing movies of the year were Cinderalla, King Solomon’s Mines, Annie Get Your Gun, Cheaper by the Dozen, and Father of the Bride … Hollywood bought its first million-dollar property, acquiring the rights to the successful Broadway play, Born Yesterday. Actor James Dean sang a jingle in a Pepsi commercial, launching his career … there was a drastic decline in movie theater attendance caused by the growing popularity of that novel invention, the television … yet there were 2,200 drive-in movie theaters in the U.S., twice the number from the previous year.

And on TV, for those few who could afford to buy one, the first late-night variety show, Broadway Open House, made its appearance … dumb blonde Dagmar (Jennie Lewis) became the first TV sex symbol … CBS received its authorization to begin televising broadcasts in color … The Cisco Kid was the first TV series filmed in color (even though there were fewer than 100 experimental color TV sets in the entire U.S.) … and A. C. Nielson began gathering ratings data for TV, using electronic viewing records and written logs to determine popularity.

And speaking of affording things … a first class postage stamp was 3 cents … a 1 oz. bar of Hershey’s chocolate was 5 cents … a loaf of bread was 14 cents … an 8 oz. box of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes was 16 cents … a dozen eggs cost 60 cents … a gallon of milk was 84 cents … a gallon of gasoline was 27 cents … the minimum wage was raised from 40 to 75 cents … a new car cost approximately $1,500 … and the average family income was about $3,320.

*    *    *    *    *

But my interests were closer to home. Thirteen months after I came into the world, the first great tragedy of my young life occurred – my sister Dixie Belle was born, and I lost my spot as the most important person in my parents’ world. Less than a year and a half later, before I had completely recovered from Belle, the twins were born: John Rhett and Judith Scarlette (who would become known as Jack and Jill) … and you can probably guess what my mother’s favorite book was that year.

We lived in Louisville, Kentucky, but were preparing to make the big move up to Long Island, New York, where my father’s career was expected to take off. The Louisville house was a starter house, one of millions that had sprung up after the Second World War to house returning G.I.’s and their booming families. Our little abode was in a spanking new subdivision, and we were only a half-block from the nearest cornfield. By next year, that cornfield would likely contain a new crop of houses. In early autumn, the Twins were only a few weeks old, and my Nana had traveled down from New York City to help my mother take care of the four of us, while she and my father packed for the move north.

Perhaps the second most exciting event of the year (second only to the arrival of the Twins) was when a (to me) very large snake made it’s way out of the nearby cornfield and confronted my sister, Dixie Belle, in our front yard …

THE BIG WORMY

Snake! Snake! Beware sister Belle!

Snake is coming from yonder dell!

Oh my goodness, here it comes;

It has no legs, how does it run?

Then my sister started to flee,

She knew that much, though not yet three.

She yelled and shouted and started to cry

‘Cause that mean ole wormy seemed to fly.

Around the yard my sister fled.

Her tearful eyes had turned to red.

As she ran past, she yelled Please help me!

But what could I do, I was only three.

So I went to Grandma in the basement

And told her of our bad predicament.

Nana, Nana, I screamed with fear,

A Big Wormy is chasing sister dear.

But Grandma had had enough of our fun

And thought this merely another bad pun.

Said she, "Now, go outside and play,

For ahead of me I have a busy day."

Then outside I ran again,

To the screaming of my sister friend.

Curious neighbors had come to their doors

To find what troubled their interrupted chores.

Then the next door Hero-Lady,

Sped out of her house rough and ready.

A broom she carried in her hand,

To knock that wormy to the promised land.

She beat the wormy on the head,

She beat him ‘till he’s almost dead.

She hit him and clubbed him and gave him a push

Into the stickly, prickly, thorny rose bush.

Then when she was sure he was dead,

‘Cause he was covered with bloody red,

She picked him up and ran pell-mell,

And threw him back into yonder dell.

CHAPTER THREE

ME, MYSELF, AND I

Transitions from 1950 to 1955

The Times …

As I look back at it, the ‘50’s were a rather turbulent period. Things would eventually quiet down, but not by 1955. As the year began, in February, Nikolai A. Bulganin replaced Georgy M. Malenkov as the Soviet Premier … also in February, the U.S. agreed to train the South Vietnamese army, having no idea where this would eventually lead … Israel attacked the Egyptians in the Gaza Strip, in retaliation for the execution of two Israelis the previous month, and war erupted between the two nations … in early April, Winston Churchill resigned as British Prime Minister, and was succeeded by Anthony Eden … in late April, civil war erupted in Saigon, Vietnam … in May, the Federal Republic of West Germany became a sovereign state … the Warsaw Pact (the east European defense agreement sponsored by the Soviet Union) was signed … in July, Moroccan insurgents attacked the French and other Europeans, and in August, Algerian rebels launched wide-spread attacks against the French and other Europeans … later that month, Egypt and Israel agreed to a U.N. sponsored cease-fire … in mid-September, Argentina ousted and exiled the dictator Juan Domingo Perón … and this year the millionth Volkswagen, or Beetle, to be manufactured since its inception in 1936, rolled off the assembly lines.

In the U.S., Dwight D. Eisenhower (R) was President and Richard M. Nixon (R) was his Vice President … in January, DuPont’s polyester yarn, an easily laundered, fast-drying, wrinkle resistant Dacron fiber tentatively being called Fantastique, debuted in women’s and children’s clothes (men’s garments would be added when more of the product became available) … in mid-April, Albert Einstein, physicist and humanist, died at Princeton of a weak heart … In late May, the Supreme Court ordered that public schools be integrated at all deliberate speed … in the middle of July, the world’s first theme amusement park, Disneyland, with 160 acres of Never-Never Land, opened south of Los Angeles in Anaheim … on December 1, a bus boycott began in Montgomery, Alabama, after Rosa Parks, a black woman, refused to give up her seat to a white man (and a Federal court later ruled that the city’s bus segregation ordinance was unconstitutional) – and de-segregated service began three weeks later. Also this year, comic book popularity increased dramatically, with over a billion copies sold … the Air Force Academy opened in Colorado Springs … the ‘55 Chevy was the hottest thing on wheels … and the first McDonald’s restaurant opened in Chicago.

Inventions, discoveries, innovations, and notable achievements this year included … polio was conquered by the new vaccine discovered by Dr. Jonas Salk … the transistor radio, fiber optics, and synthetic diamonds were developed … a link between asbestos and lung cancer was definitively established … the world’s first nuclear-powered submarine, the Nautilus, after a year of sea trials, joined the U.S. fleet … Mercedes Benz released its seven-liter, six-cylinder gullwing sportster … and Cessna unveiled its 172 Skyhawk, a single-engined, light aircraft – which became the world’s most popular airplane.

In 1955, Chuck Berry cut Maybellene, giving the blues a rocking new sound … the Rock Era officially began with Bill Haley & His Comets’ No. 1 hit, (We’re Gonna) Rock Around The Clock … and RCA bought Elvis Presley’s contract from Sun Records for $40,000. With Rock Around The Clock at No. 1, the other Top Five hit songs of the year were Autumn Leaves by Roger Williams, Moments To Remember by The Four Lads, The Yellow Rose Of Texas by Mitch Miller, and Love Is A Many Splendored Thing by the Four Aces. Other notable songs included Sixteen Tons (No. 6) by Tennessee Ernie Ford; Only You (And You Alone) (No. 9) by The Platters; Ain’t That A Shame (No. 10) by Pat Boone; and Davy Crockett, from the Disney movie.

The top five highest grossing movies of the year were Lady and the Tramp (and third highest for the decade), Cinerama Holiday, Mister Roberts, Battle Cry, and Oklahoma! … and teen idol James Dean died in a car crash on the last day of September. The top rated TV shows for the 1955 to 1956 Season were The $64,000 Question, I Love Lucy, The Ed Sullivan Show, Disneyland, and The Jack Benny Show. Other TV shows that we consistently watched that year were Dragnet, The Millionaire, The Honeymooners, The Adventures of Robin Hood, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin, The Adventures of Superman, Highway Patrol, I Led Three Lives, Lassie, The Lone Ranger, and Million Dollar Movie.

The cost of a first class postage stamp was still 3 cents … a 1 oz. bar of Hershey’s chocolate was still 5 cents … a loaf of bread was 18 cents … a 12 oz. box of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes was 19 cents … a dozen eggs was 61 cents … a gallon of milk was 92 cents … a gallon of gas was 29 cents … a new car was $1,950 … the minimum wage was still 75 cents an hour … and the average family income was $4,420.

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In 1950, sometime soon after the twins, John Rhett and Judith Scarlette (Jack and Jill) were born, we moved from Louisville, Kentucky, up to Corona, Flushing – which was a part of eastern New York City. Here, we had temporarily moved in with my dad’s parents, while my parents looked for a place of our own. Nana and Poppy lived in a row house near Flushing Meadows and the old World’s Fair Grounds. The Long Island Railroad tracks were but a short distance behind their backyard fence, and separated them from Flushing Meadows.

Nana and Poppy lived on the first floor of a row house on 43rd Avenue. They rented out the second floor to a family that would years later, after the father abandoned the mother, become known as the welfare family. They earned this label because the single-parent mother, and all of her children, would live off of welfare their entire lives, never attempting to find a job or actually earn a living. As the children became adults, they too went on welfare, accepting as their God-given right a life free from the need to work. And over time they too became single-parents, with the expectation that when their children grew up, they would become the third generation to go on welfare, and the second to go straight from childhood to welfare. Ain’t America great?

The first floor of the row house had a long hallway, a kitchen with an eat-in area, a small front living room, two small bedrooms opposite the kitchen, and a small bathroom. And at some point, Poppy had added a sun-room out the back. Living in that small abode with two grandparents, two parents, and four small children, two of them new-borns, must have been pretty trying on the adults.

For a while, I’m sure, Nana and Poppy were probably just happy to have the grandchildren around so much. But I’m sure that after a while, so much became too much. And I’m sure that my mother really appreciated the help that Nana gave her, watching me and Belle, and helping take care of Jack and Jill. But I’m sure that after a while, she just wanted to have some privacy, and a house of her own.

Same with dad. His commute to work must have been great – he worked down at La Guardia Airport as a radio technician/operator. But the weekends must have been grueling, searching with mom for a decent, affordable place to live. I’m sure he was happy to visit with his parents for a while, but sooner or later, he too must have wanted some privacy and his own house.

But kids are resilient, and Belle and I just thought of it as a great adventure. And it was. The row house, although tiny, seemed immense to us. And there were things that we’d never seen before – an icebox separate from the refrigerator, that you actually put ice into (rather than take out of) … a bathtub with high walls and with feet on it … heating water on the stove for baths, because the tiny water heater couldn’t provide for so many people … using a washboard in the tub to clean clothes.

The cellar would also have been an adventure, if it hadn’t been so scary. Belle never went down there, and I only went