From Gramps

Michele asked for stories from my past. That spurred me to begin writing my personal history. In doing so, I got as far as my high school years. A "story" from that time emerged from the depths of highly unreliable memory. It happened like this:

In high school, I never really learned to study. I had just enough intelligence to get it when the teacher said it in class. Except for a few papers to be written for English, what happened in the classroom was enough. I was third in my graduating class in GPA. I majored in fun. As seniors, having already completed almost all of the requirements for graduation, the Three Musketeers, Ray Kesler, Cliff Reese and I, spent most of our senior year school days in the shop and on top of the high school building constructing, setting up and lighting a twelve foot “M” that was lit up on the evening of every home athletic event for years thereafter.

The parts of the school day not spent with the “M” were spent rehearsing for the senior play and the school play. I had the male lead for both. Our English teacher/senior advisor and drama teacher were mad about me, the former because she thought I was cute and the latter because he thought I had talent. I had somehow fooled them both.

The senior play was a comedy, the name of which I don’t remember. It featured a handsome leading man (me) and a silly plot. I don’t think Cliff was in it, although Ray was, a detective having a single line, “One thing at a time; one thing at a time!” On opening night, Ray marched on stage, flashed his badge and, in a strong voice, commanded, “One time at a thing; one time at a thing!” Surprisingly, he was selected for a significant role in the school play, produced later in the school year. For a school as small as ours, experience was more important than precision.

The school play was “Lost Horizon.” Again, I was the handsome leading man. I have an actual yearbook picture to prove it. The leading lady, LaRae Evans, was the off-stage girl friend of Joe Murdock, a kind of “Big Man On Campus” at MHS and also the High Lama in “Lost Horizon.” I had no romantic interest, off-stage, in La Rae, but she was pretty cute. One scene in the play called for the two of us to begin a romantic relationship and close in on each other in the beginnings of an embrace. The curtain, at that critical juncture, would fall, signaling the close of Act II. We were asked to give a preview of the play during the school day, so that the student body would get excited about it and come, with parents, to the evening productions. Admission would be charged.

So, we did the preview. LaRae and I merged and appeared to be about ready to kiss. Actual kissing in public was frowned upon in those days. The curtain was supposed to fall, leaving the audience (my high school peers) in suspenders. The curtain didn’t fall. I froze – but only for a tenth of a second. I pulled her closer and then laid on her one of the most passionate, back-bending kisses any actress had ever, to that point in time, enjoyed. LaRae didn’t enjoy it. Joe Murdock didn’t enjoy it. He later threatened me. I had no fear; Joe was a nerd, not a jock. The audience loved it! They hooted and applauded. I held the kiss. The guy on the curtain took his time. I think he had planned it, maybe even had instructions from Mr. Vloyantes, the teacher/drama coach. The house was packed every night of the production. I was famous! For some reason, I would never speak a line on stage in college or trip over the footlights. I went into radio. Go figure.