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In 1964 I got the mumps. I have only been very sick about three times in my life with such things as the mumps, tick fever, and a bad case of the flu. Tick fever was probably the sickest I have ever been but the mumps was a close second. I was affected on both jaws and I could barely lift my head or get out of bed. My jaws felt like they weighed a ton and when I stood up I felt like I was going to pass out. The adults told me that I needed to stay in a dark room and I should rest because mumps could go down on me. I didn't know what that meant but I took it easy anyway. What they meant was that I could end up sterile if the mumps went down on me. Apparently I was fortunate in that department because I fathered five children. That is if you count the one we lost just before Jon. Life wasn't happy for me after the death of my parents until I met my future wife Debbie in February 1966. It was all a kind of a blur for me in many ways because my life was pretty aimless.
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| At Bailey Jr. High about 13 yo |
In chapter three I mentioned that my sister Donna and James Larry Sircy were married on November 26, 1962. Larry, as he preferred to be called was from a large and very dysfunctional family. They lived just a few doors down on the same side of the street on Mckennie avenue. He was a very handsome guy and was always well dressed, clean and neat. At least that is what the women said about him that knew him. He was one of those people that no matter what kind of work he was doing he never seemed to get dirty. His hair was jet black and always slicked back. Larry was no good in my view because he was a philanderer and abusive to Donna. Donna told me that he cheated on her on their wedding night. He was also a con man and could charm the bark off of a tree. I have heard from anonymous sources that he may have been bi-sexual. Larry would leave home for days, weeks, and months sometimes. During these times Donna would ask me to stay with her, which was okay with me because I didn't want to be at home anyway.
At one time or another Donna lived in every section of Nashville and the surrounding counties. From the time she married Larry in 1962 until her second marriage to Richard Bass in 1978 she was moving constantly. She moved to various apartments, duplexes, and trailers. While Larry was away Donna would bad mouth him and say that she was fed up with his behavior and going to leave him. Then one day he would magically show up and she would be upset with him for all of about fifteen minutes, if that long. After a while they would be all lovey dovey. and slobbering all over each other and I wanted to throw up. He had her wrapped around his finger. A few years ago Donna and I were talking about that period of her life and I told her that if Larry was still alive she would still be with him and she agreed with me.
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| Donna about the time that she married Larry |
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| Didi holding Larry Sircy Jr. |
One morning in the winter of 1964 Larry's shenanigans almost did him in. He and two of his drinking buddies pulled up at the Miller's Clinic Emergency Room, on Gallatin Road, with a dead girl in his back seat. At first the police treated it as a potential homicide but Larry told the police that the three of them had met the woman the previous night, along with her sister, at a bar on lower Broadway. It was near where the Bridgestone Arena is today. The girls left the bar and the three men also left, but not together according to Larry. Later that night the men and women met again at a popular barbecue joint called Charlie Nicken's which was at the foot of the Jefferson Street bridge. They were famous for their barbecue and curb service where black men wearing white jackets would walk out to your car to take your order and when it was ready they would bring the food out to you. When I was a child this was one of my favorite places to eat and it was a local landmark for Nashvillians.
Larry told the police that the sister of the dead woman had to leave so she could pick up her husband from work. The girl that later died got into Larry's car and he supposedly took the other two men home. Larry and the girl then went looking for her apartment on Wimpole Drive in Donelson. He said that they drove all over Donelson that night looking for her apartment until he became sleepy and couldn't drive any longer so they parked on a dead-end street and went to sleep. The girl had been drinking and taking pills so she climbed into the backseat and passed out while Larry slept in the front seat. The next morning he tried to wake the girl up but he soon realized that she was dead. Not knowing what to do he went by and picked up his two friends at their homes. Putting their heads together they decided that the best thing to do was to take her to the hospital. An autopsy revealed that the woman died of acute alcohol poisoning. Donna told me a few years ago that she believes that Larry lied to the police. She believes that the three men left the bar with the girl and all three partied with her all night. Donna was at his parents house on Mckennie when Larry came home that day and told her what had happened. She called him a "son of a bitch" and he tried to hit her but his mother stopped him. This was just one in the many episodes of the life of James Larry Sircy but this was by far the worst.
During the summer of 1964 I played on the Eastland Baptist Church softball team. We also played a lot of sandlot softball. Our field was the front yards of three houses that then belonged to the church. These houses were used for Sunday School and Royal Ambassadors but were empty during the week. Except when they were being used for Sunday and Wednesday night services. The front yards of these houses were our infield and the intersection of McKennie and 12th Avenue was our left field. Twelfth Ave. and our front yard was center and right field. The only problem was that a huge tree blocked center and right. Most balls hit to center would get lost in the branches for a few moments and you had to guess the direction that the ball would drop from. The tree was an automatic double. Most of us usually aimed for left field. If a car came down McKennie, or 12th, we called time until the cars passed. It was a wonder that nobody ever got run over.
We had some pretty good ball players. David Love, Bob Lawrence, Gus Fowler, just to name a few. Then there were those who were not so good like Billy Sircy. He was Larry's brother and the smallest kid in the neighborhood. Billy was always the last to be picked and he was a sure out. He was a liability to any team that he was on but we tried to let everyone play. He never got discouraged because he was always ready to play. Then there was Tommy Franklin who we called baldy. Tommy was a good kid and lived diagonally across the street from our house on the corner of 12th and McKennie. His dad was bald and Tommy always wore a burr haircut and had a round head. That is why we called him baldy. One of my fondest memories of Christmas during my childhood was the music that his parents played from outdoor loudspeakers that could be heard throughout the neighborhood. My favorite song was The Little Drummer Boy. I saw Tommy in 2012 at my Aunt Didi's funeral. Another colorful character, who stood out in my mind, was a guy that we called Gaylord Perry after the famous pitcher. I started calling him that and the name caught on. The main thing that I remember about him was that he had huge lips.
In the warmer months we would play ball under the lights at Hattie Cotton elementary school. The park service would turn on the lights and we would play until late at night. These games were for people of all ages. Adults and teenagers would choose up sides and we never had any major problems or fights. I loved those games. The park service also sponsored a youth horseshoe tournament. David Love and myself won second place that year in the 17 year old age division, which was a city wide tournament. He lived in a run-down house on Greenwood Avenue with his parents. David had a younger brother and sister. David's grandmother, grandfather, and two aunts also lived there. I always felt a little sorry for David. His grandfather had hardening of the arteries and he would frequently look like he was having a seizure. His eyes would roll back in his head and he would chew on his tongue. Gus Fowler was always making fun of him.
Davids grandmother was a character. She was skinny and feisty but I liked her a lot. Davids aunts were not that much older than he was. Their names were Linda and Wanda Love. They were attractive and seemed pretty wild to me. One night I walked in the front door at David's house and Wanda, or Linda, I can't remember which one, ran up and surprised me with a big wet open mouth kiss. I believe they were drinking but I would have to count this as my first kiss. You have heard of fifty shades of gray, well I turned fifty shades of red. David's mom was a character also. Gus told me to call her on the phone one day and not say anything. I did and after saying hello several times she said "speak ass, your mouth wont". We thought that was hilarious. The next time I called I recorded her. David was a great friend and an all around good guy. He would join the Marine Corps Reserve and he became a Nashville Metropolitan police officer, retiring after a long career with the police department.
I became close friends with Gus Fowler who lived a street over on Greenwood in a big two story white house. He lived there with his parents, grandmother and older sister. I spent a lot of time at his house and Gus and his family was a source of comfort to me. Mr. Fowler was an ATF or an Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms agent. He was also a Marine combat veteran of the Pacific theater in World War II. He had actual combat photos from where he had fought on Peleliu, one of the most brutal battles that the Marines fought in the Pacific Islands campaign. When he wore shorts you could see the scars of three bullet holes that ran in a line down his leg where he was shot by a Japanese machine gun. There was always a car or a van in the driveway with out of state tags. These were the days before the explosion of drug use in this country and there was still a lot of moon shine stills. He was what was popularly known as a revenuer in those days and was constantly searching for stills to bust up. Almost every weekend I was at Gus's house. Gus had a room upstairs and I spent many nights at his house during the summer and weekends. There was no bathroom up there and his mother kept a chamber pot as they were called by upper class Southerners. Country people just called them slop jars. We camped out in his backyard nearly year round on weekends and many times during the week in the summer. Gus's daddy had several government issue sleeping bags and this is why we were able to camp out even in the dead of winter.
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| David Love |
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| David Love as a Metro Nashville police officer |
I delivered newspapers starting around 1960 when I helped my cousin Roy from time to time when I would spend the night some weekends at my grandparents house. After my parents died I had my own paper routes. I delivered papers all up and down Gallatin road from Cahal avenue down to Sharpe and Grenada. For a short while I had a route around Eastland Avenue. I would get up around two or three in the morning to deliver the Nashville Tennessean, which was the morning paper. In the afternoon I delivered the Nashville Banner. The Tennessean was generally considered a mouthpiece of the Democrat Party and the Banner was considered to be a Republican paper. I carried a large cloth bag with a wide strap that I slung over my shoulder. If I needed, depending on the size of the paper, I would carry two bags evenly balanced across each shoulder. On Sunday morning the papers were so big we would have to spot bundles at various points along the route before we started delivery. There was no evening paper on Sunday.
Our papers were dropped off at Company 18 fire hall on Gallatin Road. If I had time I would roll my papers while I talked to the firemen and watch television with them. At other times I would roll my papers as I walked. I came to know the firemen pretty well. They were some of the most foul mouthed men I ever knew. Being a fireman could be a pretty boring job. The men would sit around playing checkers, or be sleeping, cooking, eating, and watching television until the alarm sounded and everything went into high gear. In a matter of minutes they were off on a fire call. It was fun to watch. Later, when I was in the Air Force, when I watched our priority alert flight crews scramble fighters it reminded me of those fire calls at Company 18. One of the men that I came to know was Earl Brown. My wife Debbie's grandmother had been married to him and her name was Grace Brown. When I met Grace she was single but had been married three times. I didn't know that she had been married to Earl until he started seeing Grace again in 1969. Earl was a great guy but would die a few years later of a heart attack.
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| Modern day picture of company 18 fire hall |
One weekend I was really wanting to camp out with Gus in his backyard but Didi had grounded me over something I had done. No matter how much I begged, Didi would not change her mind. I was bound and determined to get my way. After going to bed that night I waited until the house was totally quiet and pretty confident that everyone was asleep. I had gone to bed fully dressed and very stealthily I got up and slowly eased my way to the back door. The house was very old and we kept an old fashioned key in the lock. I held my breath as I slowly turned the key waiting for the sound of the lock to disengage. When it opened it I paused to see if anyone had been awakened by the noise. Satisfied that they hadn't, I eased the door open and quietly shut it behind me. I then tiptoed down the steps of our wooden back porch and ran through our backyard to the alley. Thinking I was home free I ran up the alley behind our barn, which was illuminated by a street light on the corner. Just as I reached the corner of our barn near 12th street a cop stepped out from behind the barn and blocked my path.
Many times police officers would park in the shadows of the church parking lot across the street and apparently this officer had watched me leaving the house. I was big for my age and nearly as tall as I am now but I was looking up at this guy and he demanded to know what I was doing. I tried several times to answer him but nothing was coming out of my mouth. My lips were moving but there was no sound because I was so frightened. When I was finally able to talk but I sounded like Mickey Mouse. I told him the truth and didn't try to lie my way out of it. Although I have lied on occasion, which is wrong, I have found that telling the truth causes less pain in the end. If you lie you have to keep lying in order to uphold the first lie. It has been my experience that most police officers appreciate the truth and are more willing to cut you some slack if you level with them. Besides, I have found out that am not a good liar. The officer sternly told me to go back home and if he caught me out again he would not only tell my aunt he would take me to juvenile detention. Somehow I managed to get back in bed without waking anyone up. Didi never knew about this until I told her many years later when I was safe from retribution.
On July 31, 1964 we took a trip to St. Petersburg Florida's Treasure Island. Until then the farthest I had ever been from home was Ft. Knox Kentucky, Memphis, and Florence Alabama. On our way out of Nashville a news bulletin flashed over the radio that country music star Jim Reeves had been killed in a plane crash near Radnor lake. I came to love the music of Jim Reeves before I even started liking country music in 1967. He had a golden voice and it was very smooth. I copied much of my singing style from him. The interstates were under construction then and I-24 ended just past downtown Nashville so we traveled for much of the way on highway 41. We would be on two lane highways for miles and then we would be on interstate for a while and then back on to two lane roads again. You would pass through town after town and many small towns had rest centers set up near the town squares with people volunteering to pass out coffee and snacks to weary travelers. This was also a safety program to help prevent people falling asleep at the wheel. Even a fairly short trip seemed to take forever back then but a long trip to south Florida was very tiring.
Didi's boyfriend Allen Smith, also known as Gig's by the kids and Frog by the adults, drove us down in his car. That was the only way we could go on a trip like that. Didi was a couple of days away from her 37th birthday but she didn't have a license. If she went anywhere by car someone had to drive her there. Nashville had a good bus system so it wasn't hard to get around and she was in walking distance of work. She and Gigs had been dating for years on weekends and sometimes he would come over during the week. He drove her anywhere she wanted to go. Didi wouldn't learn to drive until she was about forty and that was because they were no longer seeing each other. Until that trip I always liked Gigs. I couldn't remember a time that he wasn't in the picture. I had never been around Gigs, however; for more than a few hours. He was always nice to me and generous. Being around him for a whole week was a horse of a different color. Gigs was a lifelong bachelor in his forties and very set in his ways. If there was ever a person afraid to commit it was Gigs. He was not used to being around children for any length of time. We began to butt heads and by the end of the week we were barely speaking to each other.
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| Didi and Gigs |
While we were there on August 2, 1964 North Vietnamese patrol boats attacked an American destroyer in what came to be known as the Gulf of Tonkin incident. On August 4, another attack supposedly happened but this proved to be false. This would give president Lyndon Johnson an excuse to begin an escalation of our involvement in Vietnam. Congress basically gave him a free hand to act with passage of the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution. He ordered several air strikes on North Vietnam. By the time I reached draft age we had 500,000 men in Vietnam. In August of 1964, however; I could not know the impact of the Gulf of Tonkin incident on my future and the future of hundreds of thousands of young Americans. While in St. Petersburg we visited Busch Gardens before it was turned into a theme park. The only thing to see there was a bird sanctuary and a brewery tour. We also toured the HMS Bounty, which was the ship used in the making of the 1935 movie Mutiny on the Bounty. There was also Madame Tussaud's London Wax Museum.
This was my first visit to a wax museum and there was a chamber of horrors. As my brother Mark and I walked into a hallway I saw a woman lying motionless on the floor. Not knowing if she was real or a wax figure I bent over her to get a better look. Just then she opened her eyes and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I looked up to see her husband walking toward us with smelling salts. Apparently she had passed out. This was what Readers Digest might call one of my most embarrassing moments. The beach at Treasure Island was very wide. I rented a mattress float and lazily floated out from the beach until I looked up and noticed that the beach was looking smaller and smaller. In a panic I began paddling back to shore but it seemed like I was making very little progress. When I finally made it back to shore I had been out there a long time. After a shower, I dressed and pulled on a brand new pair of Levi's which turned out to be a big mistake. Mark, Alton and myself walked to a nearby miniature golf course. Halfway through the game my legs began to feel like they were on fire and the Levi's felt like sand paper. I had a severe sunburn on the back of my legs from my time on the mattress and it was all I could do to walk back to the motel. I finished the week lying on my stomach in shorts with Didi rubbing my legs in vinegar.
That Fall I played football for Bailey Jr. High. My coach was Larry Smittou who had been my Little League coach at Martha Vaught. I came out late so the coach lined up thirteen of the biggest players and made me tackle them one after another. I did okay until I got to Larry Loring who was short and stocky. He had a low center of gravity and Larry was the last player in line. It probably took four or five attempts to get him down. I was beat down after it was over but I was able to make the team. They made me a defensive tackle and I did well in practice. One day the coach was acting as quarterback and I got to him almost every time. As I was walking to the showers I overheard Coach Smittou tell Coach Kee that I was looking real good and ready to play. He was planning on putting me in the game on the following day.
We were playing one of the best teams, Waverly-Belmont, at home. Coach Smittou didn't start me until after the half. We were getting beat but were still in the game, or at least until I came in. I was left tackle and scared to death. The opposing guard knocked me flat and the ball carrier ran right over me and scored. On the next series after we went back on defense the coach gave me another chance but they ran the exact same play because they had my number. I was knocked on my butt and the ball carrier scored again. In practice I did great but my nerves would get the best of me in a real game. This had always been the case even when I played Little League baseball. After this game I never got a chance to redeem myself on varsity. For the rest of the year I played second string. Even at that I still loved playing football. My biggest regret was that I never played football in high school. I believe that if I had gained more experience I could have conquered the nerves and became a decent player.
In October 1964 President Johnson came through Nashville on a campaign swing. I rode the bus downtown and stood on the corner of 7th and Charlotte. He spoke at a platform in front of the War Memorial building. Secret Service were everywhere and snipers were visible on surrounding rooftops. Johnson liked to get close and personal with crowds and he was a big man at 6 foot 4 inches tall and was wearing a fedora, a white trench coat, and I was so close when he passed that I could almost reach out and touch him when he rode by in his limousine. He would leave Nashville and give the greatest speech of his presidency in my opinion at New Orleans later that night. Johnson would go on to win one of the largest landslides in American history the following month. There is no doubt in my mind that the better man was Barry Goldwater. I didn't realize this until years later but if Goldwater had won I am convinced that there would have been no expansion of the war in Viertnam and thousands of young lives would have been saved. There would have been no expansion of the welfare state, no rise of the the counterculture or Hippie movement, no drug culture or a rapid expansion of the sexual revolution. No social unrest associated with the war. Johnson's policies provided the Communists with a perfect opportunity to exploit an unpopular war and other social issues such as poverty and race. In my view Goldwater would have governed similar to Ronald Reagan. Johnson was able to successfully define Goldwater as an extreme right wing radical. In much the same way as they tried to define Reagan but he outsmarted them in 1980.
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| Lyndon Johnson in Nashville October 1964 |
Probably around the summer of 1965 I bought several boxes of M-80's and cherry bombs. A cherry bomb was very powerful and I remember boys at East High sliding the wax covered fuse through the middle of a cigarette. They would light the cigarette and place it in the restroom and by the time it burned down to the fuse they would be long gone when it blew up. We would jump out of our seats as the noise of the explosion reverberated through the school hallways. Sometimes they would flush them down the toilet. An M-80 on the other hand was even more powerful than a cherry bomb and was the equivalent of one tenth of a stick of dynamite. I came up with the bright idea of building a bomb. At the time Johnson & Johnson sold shoe polish that came in a metal can that was tube shaped. It had the polish and a rag inside. This was a perfect casing for a bomb.
One day I broke open several M-80's and poured the powder into the empty can. Then I stuffed several M-80's and cotton into the can to make it extra tight. I ran a long fuse from the side of the can and told all my friends what I was getting ready to do. They were all gathered in granddaddys bedroom looking out the window while I placed the bomb in the gravel parking lot of Eastland Baptist church across the street. I lit the fuse and took off running as fast as my legs would carry me. Just as the bomb blew up I I reached the window and could feel the ground shake and hear the windows rattle just a split second before I heard the explosion. The bomb left a large hole in the church parking lot. My guardian angel was looking out for me that day because I could have easily killed myself.
On another occasion I was throwing M-80's out of our back door and into our back yard. My aunt Didi was sitting in the hallway behind me talking on the phone. It was the old rotary style phone of that period and she told me several times to stop but I would just say okay and throw another one out the back door. We had an old fashioned wooden screen door with a spring attached at the top. Each time I would fling open the door and throw an M-80 into the yard but one time I threw the door open but it only opened about halfway. The M-80 hit the screen and bounced backwards into the hallway, landing only a few feet from Didi's feet. I froze for a second helplessly looking at the burning fuse on the M-80 while trying to decide what to do. Didi was looking the other way and unaware of what was happening. I panicked and ran out the back door and by the time I was in the alley the M-80 exploded. I stood there for a long time trying to work up the courage to walk back up to the house. There had been no scream or sound after the explosion, only silence. After a while I mustered the courage and walked slowly through the yard, easing up to the back door. I could see Didi sitting there in the hallway bent over holding her hands over her ears with her eyes tightly closed as if she was in pain. There was a big black spot on the floor and the telephone was lying upside down next to it.
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| The window on the left is where we were standing when my bomb exploded |
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| The hallway where Didi was using the phone |
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| Cherry Bomb |
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| M-80's |
In the spring or Summer of 1965 I was downtown standing on the corner of 6th and Charlotte preparing to cross the street. Just then I heard pop, pop, pop which sounded like firecrackers. I noticed a crowd beginning to gather on the next block at 5th and Charlotte. They were standing around a man in a brown suit and he was lying prone on the sidewalk. Almost immediately the wail of police sirens could be heard coming from every direction. I crossed the street and walked to a hotel near James Robertson Parkway. I had no clue what was going on but I learned later that a Nashville detective had been shot and wounded while chasing a bank robber in a foot pursuit. The robber ambushed him as he ran around the corner of a building. I walked into the lobby of the hotel in order to use a pay phone but while I was on the phone I heard a commotion out front. After hanging up I walked outside and police had the building I was in surrounded. Many of them were carrying rifles and shotguns and looking up at the roof. Just then several police officers escorted the bloodied bank robber out the front door and into a waiting police car. Fortunately the wounded police officer survived.
During these years I spent a lot of time in downtown Nashville and I would either take the bus or ride my bike. I saw a lot of movies at the Paramount, Tennessee, Loews and Crescent theaters on Church Street. Epic movies like the Longest Day, the Alamo, How The West Was Won, and so many others. My cousin Roy worked as an usher at the Paramount theater. One day he told me that if I could get a few friends together, and pass out flyers advertising a Sinbad movie, we could go to the movie for free. I called three or four friends and we rode our bikes downtown. For several hours we walked up and down the street passing out flyers. After a quick glance people would throw them down and soon Church street was trashed. These flyers were blowing all over the street and an irate police officer walked up to me and started chewing me out. I tried to explain to him what we were doing but he kept asking if I knew how much it would cost the city to clean up this mess.
Another thing that I loved about going downtown was visiting the Tennessee State Museum which occupied the basement of the War Memorial building. I virtually lived there and I especially loved the military exhibits. A friend gave me a WW1 German gas mask that he had bought at an estate sale. The mask belonged to a veteran of the war and I took it to school. A friend wore it around all day at Bailey and the mask and filter was old. By the end of the day he was sick as a dog. I took the mask to the museum and asked the curator what kind of gas mask it was. He was a WW1 veteran and he identified it as a German gas mask and asked if I wanted to donate it. For years I would look for my gas mask when I visited the museum. It had a piece of paper in front of it that identified it as a donation by Greg Segroves. The museum had a mummy, a model of the battleship U.S.S. Tennessee, a scale model of a WW1 battlefield and trench system built by a war veteran. They also had a shoe that Sam Davis used to hide his dispatches and a piano that was used as an operating table in the Civil War. A bench built by David Crockett and a ten foot stuffed Polar bear. The museum was crammed packed with interesting things and my time was well spent there peaking my interest in history even more.
In May of 1965 I went fishing with my best friend Gus Fowler and his dad up at Camp Boxwell which is a Boy Scout reservation near Lebanon Tennessee. There was a lake on the property and all I had to fish with was a cane pole and night crawlers. We were fishing from the bank when something big grabbed my hook. It was so heavy that I thought my fishing pole was going to snap in half as I fought to bring the fish to the surface. Just then I caught sight of a huge and silver on my line as it reached the surface of the water. It was getting dark and I couldn't see that well. The fish turned out to be a 5 pound large mouth bass but I almost lost it. It was out of the water and hanging over the edge of the bank when the fish fell off of my hook. Flopping around on the ground it managed to drop back into the water. Gus's dad jumped into the water desperately trying to catch him before he got away. Cupping his hands together and after several tries he was able to trap the fish and throw it far enough up on to the bank that it was not able to get away again. Without a doubt that was the biggest fish that I ever caught. In retrospect I wish that I had had it mounted but we had him for dinner instead.
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| The Tennessee State Museum |
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| Sam Davis exhibit |
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| Probably my German gas mask |
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| The battleship USS Tennessee |
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| This model of a WW1 battlefield was built for the State museum by a veteran of WW1 |
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| Ten Foot Polar Bear |
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| Mark and I probably about 1964 or 65 |
The 1965 - 66 school year was historic in Nashville. Because I entered the tenth grade at East Nashville High School and for the first time in my life attended school with Black kids. Altogether there were about ten Black kids at East that first year that we desegregated. The fact that I was going to school with Black children never bothered me for a minute because I had been around blacks all my life working in my fathers store. The number of black students increased over the next two years. There was some friction that developed between some of the students that seemed to increase as the numbers increased.. A White working class neighborhood was in front of East and a Black neighborhood was behind it. East had a distinguished history going back to 1932 and many of it's students have gone on to successful careers. The school produced military heroes and officers like General Hugh Mott who won the Distinguished Service Cross for his action as a combat engineer capturing the Ludendorf Bridge over the Rhine River in WW2.
Eighteen hundred men served from East in WW2 and 59 died. The clock over the front entrance is 59 inches wide as a memorial to those men. Two prominent local politicians attended East, Richard Fulton and Bill Boner. Both were mayors of Nashville and Congressmen. East alumni included many in the entertainment world. Among East High graduates were Frank Sutton, who played Sgt Carter on Gomer Pyle USMC. Ralph Emery and Oprah Winfrey, who graduated in 1971, three years after we graduated. Pat Boone didn't go to East but I have been told that his career was launched after he won a talent contest there. The only other school in the Nashville area that comes close as far as I know is Hume Fogg. Dinah Shore and Bettie Page graduated from there. East was built during the height of the depression and it was damaged by the East Nashville tornado of 1933 that nearly destroyed Bailey. The trophy case in the front lobby was filled with trophies, game balls, pictures, and other memorabilia that represented the long sports history of the school.
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| East High |
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| General Hugh Mott |
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| Richard Fulton |
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| Bill Boner |
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| Frank Sutton |
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| Ralph Emery |
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| Oprah Winfrey's yearbook picture |
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| Oprah on bottom right at East |
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| Oprah bottom right |
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| Pat Boone |
I enjoyed my years at East and had a lot of good friends there. My friends began calling me Brother Greg and the nickname caught on. I wasn't a Christian yet but I had good values and because I didn't smoke, drink or cuss I was some kind of saint or something. This didn't stop me from hanging out with them in our designated smoking area near the annex. Another nickname that I acquired was Gunther Toody. Why my friends started calling me that I don't know. There was a comedy show on television called Car 54 Where Are You in the 1950's. It starred Fred Gwynne of Herman Munster fame and he played a cop whose partner was Gunther Toody. I didn't take offense at the nickname because it done in good fun and at my twentieth high school reunion they were still calling me that, although it has been shortened to Gunther over the years.
One morning I was getting ready for school and needed my shorts for gym class. Didi told me that they were in a pile of clothes on top of the dryer and I quickly stuffed them into my gym bag. Later that day I was dressing out for gym and after taking my clothes off I was about to put on my shorts when I noticed something white sticking out of the waistband. Curious, I began pulling it out and to my horror it was a pair of Didi's panties. Because of static they had clung to the inside of my shorts and I quickly crammed them back into my gym bag while at the same time looking all around to make sure that I had not been spotted. My predicament was never discovered and I can only imagine what my nickname would have been if I someone had seen her panties in my bag.
The Tennessee State Fair usually began in the third week of September. In September of 1965 I went to the fair with my cousins Jenny and Judy. Jenny and I were close in age but she was a few months older than I was and she was always trying to get me to dance with her but I was shy. Jenny was an attractive girl then and I had a crush on her. She was the type of girl that was always wanting to grow up too fast but at the time I was not aware that we were not biological cousins. She and her sister Judy were both adopted so I guess I am not really a redneck after all for having a crush on my cousin. We were at the fair for several hours and later that night Uncle Doug and Aunt Catherine picked us up. At that time I-65 north ended at Trinity Lane. As we approached the Trinity Lane exit the announcer broke in on the radio and said that a fire had broken out at the Fair. Instinctively we turned our heads to look out of the rear window and saw flames leaping hundreds of feet into the air. The entire sky seemed to be on fire. It reminded me of the scene from Gone With The Wind of the burning of Atlanta. I knew immediately that it had to be the Woman's building on fire. The Woman's building had been a prominent feature of the fair for as long as I could remember. It was a gigantic old wooden structure that looked like a spooky castle to me. There was a complex of wooden buildings around the Woman's building along with the wooden grandstands next to the race track. The Woman's building held fair exhibits and was normally packed with people.
I felt kind of sick at the thought that people were probably trapped in the fire and we had just left there. Miraculously there were no fatalities and there were only minor injuries. At one point during the night every fire company in Nashville was at the fairgrounds. When I went to pick up my newspapers early the next morning at Company 18 the firemen were still at the fairgrounds fighting the fire. Just before I left out on my paper route the Company 18 fire truck returned and slowly backed into the fire hall. The faces of the firemen were blackened with soot and they looked utterly exhausted. The 2nd largest fire I ever saw was the night that the old Maxwell House Hotel burned down on Christmas night 1961. We were coming back from my grandparents house in East Nashville and could see the fire for miles. The Maxwell House sat right across Church street from the L&C Tower, the tallest building in Nashville at the time. As we crossed the Victory Memorial Bridge we could see firemen shooting water straight down into the fire from the ledges of the L&C Tower. The light from the fire made the area look bright as day. One of the male guests at the Maxwell House died in the fire.
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| The Tennessee State Fair Fire in 1965 |
At the beginning of the 1965-66 school year one of my classes was Art. I hated Art and I couldn't even draw a good stick man. Our teachers name was Mr. Vaughn and he was a good guy but I am sure that I made his life miserable. All of the boys sat at the same rectangular table near the windows and the girls sat at a table opposite to the boys. I was disruptive and showing off a lot mainly because I was bored. After a few weeks of this Mr. Vaughn was done with my disruptive behavior and made me move to the girl's table. This tactic worked because I was shy around girls and I just sat there afraid to do or say anything. Lucky for me there was this cute girl sitting across the table from me. She was quite but smiled at me a lot and both of us were very shy but by some miracle we began talking to each other. We would playfully slap at each other or kick each other under the desk. and after a while I even worked up the courage to walk her to class. Her name was Debbie Phillips and I even started calling her on the phone. We sometimes talked for hours and she invited me to her sister Judy's wedding I worked at Daniel-Hoppe's Rexall drugstore on Gallatin Road next to H.G. Hills and I couldn't get off that night. I asked her if I could come over to her house on the following Sunday and she said yes. On that Sunday I walked to her house at 915 Boscobel Street from my house on McKennie.
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| Debbie's house at 915 Boscobel Street |
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| Hulon and Judy Helms before they were married |
Debbie lived at 915 Boscobel Street and the word Boscobel means "beautiful woods" in Italian. This street is in the historic section of Nashville called Edgefield. During the antebellum and Victorian era it was the wealthiest neighborhood in Nashville. Shelby avenue and Shelby park are named after Dr. John Shelby who originally owned the property that makes up much of present day Edgefield. He built two large estates for his daughters named Boscobel and Fatherland. Today Fatherland street parallels Boscobel street. There are several antebellum homes that still exist in Edgefield but most of the existing homes were built in the Victorian era of the late 1800's. Confederate general Albert Sidney Johnston made his headquarters in Edgefield after the fall of Ft. Donelson and would remain there until the retreat of his Army of Mississippi just before the fall of Nashville to Union Forces on February 25, 1862. Edgefield was the first place that the Union Army appeared as it marched in to occupy Nashville, and the mayor of Nashville would surrender the city to Union forces there.
The James gang lived in Nashville off and on for a number of years. After they were ambushed during a bank robbery in Northfield Minnesota, Jesse and Frank James, the only two members of the gang that were not killed or captured, hid out in Edgefield for the next few years. They figured that they could blend into a big town like Nashville easier until the heat died down. Frank lived in the Whites Creek area and Jesse lived at several locations in Edgefield. At least two places on Boscobel Street, one of which was at 606 Boscobel, and one house at 711 Fatherland Street which still exists. Jesse took the alias J.D. Howard while living here. He finally got the itch to return to his old lifestyle as a notorious outlaw and a few years later a member of his gang, Bob Ford, shot him in the back of the head. He did it while Jesse was straightening a picture at his house in St. Joseph Missouri. Ford was referred to after that as the "Dirty little coward that shot Mr. Howard".
Over 800 homes were destroyed in the East Nashville fire of 1916. The fire started in the vicinity of what was once the King of the Road motel on North 1st Street. On a very windy day a small Black child was playing with a ball of yarn that caught fire and fell into dry grass. The wind quickly swept the flames through the Edgefield community. Many of the homes survived but the wealthy citizens began moving out and rebuilding in what is today the Belle Meade community. This is considered to be the old money community of Nashville today. The new money has established itself in Brentwood, Franklin, and Hendersonville. By the time I met Debbie Edgefield was a somewhat run down, predominately white working class neighborhood. It was a pretty close community with great neighbors and everybody knew everybody else. At this time I knew virtually nothing about the history of Edgefield. In recent years a wealthier preppy community has evolved and about twenty years ago we toured many of the restored homes. We were absolutely blown away by their beauty and splendor and one even had a third floor ballroom. The real estate value has increased dramatically in Edgefield. I was looking through a history book of East Nashville and noticed a picture of Debbie's house in 1906. It was taken from the front yard of her best friend Carolyn Robinson's house at 916 Boscobel across the street. I had the picture blown up and framed.
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| Debbie's house at 915 Boscobel street in 1906 |
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| Jesse James and some of his gang working at a Nashville cedar barrel factory |
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| Jesse James house at 606 Boscobel street |
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| Jesse James house at 711 Fatherland street |
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| East Nashville Fire in 1916 |
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| East Nashville Fire |
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| East Nashville Fire |
On Sunday I arrived at Debbie's house in the early afternoon. She was looking pretty in her bright yellow dress as she met me at the front door. From there she led me to the den where her mom was standing there smiling with a dish rag in her hand. She told me to go into the kitchen and dry her dishes. Of course she was joking but this made me feel welcome right off the bat. We walked out to the backyard to meet her dad and her uncle Jesse who were playing horseshoes and they invited me to play. This would be the beginning of a long relationship with this beautiful family. I fell in love with them immediately. Debbie's mom and grandmother, Grace Brown, were two of the best cooks that I ever knew and they both cooked as if they were cooking for an army.
Her mom would leave the food on the stove and the kitchen counter and everyone would help themselves and eat wherever they could find an empty seat in the den and kitchen. This practice was new to me because my parents and my grandparents always made us eat at the table. I loved being able to watch television while I ate at Debbie's house. In our family the TV was turned off at meal time but unfortunately we carried Debbie's mealtime tradition over to our own family. If I had my life to live over again I would have returned to the tradition of eating at the table and turning off the television. I believe that dinner time is probably the best quality time that a family can spend together. Television, smart phones, and video games have been destructive to families. Not so much by their content but the quality time that we would otherwise spend with our families. I hate to admit it but I am the worlds worst when it comes to looking at my cell phone when we are together as a family. Because of my work schedule then and Debbie's dating rules I was only able to see her on Sunday's and I was not allowed to come over during the week. I couldn't see her on Saturday's because I worked most of the day.
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| Easter in the 1950's - Debbie is holding the bunny |
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| Baby Debbie |
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| Little Debbie |
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| Debbie and her best friend Carolyn Robinson at 916 Boscobel St. |
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| Debbie sleeping |
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| Debbie with her Baxter friend Debbie Palmer |
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| A young Debbie |
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| The usual gang |
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| Debbie about the time we met |
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| Carolyn Robinson & Debbie |
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| Deb around 15 |
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| Carolyn Robinson |
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| Debbie with cousin Gloria |
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| Debbie & her mom |
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| Margaret & Johnny Phillips |
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| Mr. Phillips @ Kemps Bi Rite in North Nashville |
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| Going fishing |
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| October 1966- The way I remember Mrs. Phillips when I met Debbie |
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| Margaret and Johnny Phillips |
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| Mrs. Phillips |
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| Debbie's mom |
Using a military term Debbie's mom was the center of gravity in her family. Every Sunday after church Uncle Jesse, Aunt Thelma, their daughter Gloria, Debbie's grandmother Grace Brown, her sister Judy, Judy's husband Hulon, her sister Sylvia, Sylvia's crazy husband Jimmy, their daughter's Tammy and Connie, Aunt Dovie, Dovie's husband Johnny Smith, Debbie's brother Ronnie, and any relative or friend that just happened to be in the neighborhood was there every Sunday. There was an endless parade of people. Debbie's grandmother Grace Brown was a character. She was in her sixties when I met her and she would live to the ripe old age of 93. Grace took care of herself and her house to the day that she died. She was born in 1902, was married at 15, and was married three times. Her first husband George Traughber was a alcoholic who died in his 30's of a cerebral hemorrhage due to alcoholism. Her second husband was Earl Brown, the fireman that I met at Co. 18 fire hall when I delivered papers and her third husband, who she hated, had the last name of Whitehead but she kept Earl Brown's name until the day she died.
On October 8, 1918, the day Alvin York killed 25 German soldiers and captured 132 in France, becoming a Medal of Honor winner, Grace gave birth to Debbie's mother Margaret. The Spanish flu pandemic was killing millions across the globe and Nashville's General hospital was so crowded with flu patients that she gave birth on a bed in the hallway. She said that five people in her immediate vicinity died of the flu that day. When Debbie and I first started dating her brother Ronnie was separated at the time from his first wife. He wasn't living at Debbie's house very long because he joined the Army and would be in Germany for most of the next four years. Ronnie was the father of Debbie's niece Sandy who was a baby girl at the time. Sandy's mom Pat changed her name to Sondi, for whatever reason, and that is the name she has gone by ever since. Debbie's sister Judy had recently married her husband Hulon. He and I were friends from the start and we were like brothers. Hulon was a country boy and a lot of fun to be around when he was in a good mood. He could be moody but he was very talented and could fix anything. When I first met him he was a television repairman. He had a laugh that was hilarious because it sounded like a hyena with rabies. We would all crack up just listening to him laugh and I could talk to him about any subject under the sun.
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| The Hoaks from across the street |
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| Grace Beasley at 15 |
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| Grace's parents |
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| George and Grace Beasley Traughber |
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| Grace and Margaret Traughber |
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Debbie's mom Margaret, Grace, George, Thelma and Billy Traughber
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| Johnny and Margaret Traughber Phillips wedding photo |
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| A very young Margaret |
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| A very young Margaret |
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| A very young Johnny Phillips |
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| Johnny Phillips drove this market wagon and this is how Margaret met Johnny |
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| Margaret and Thelma in Nashville |
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| Margaret & Sylvia Phillips |
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| Four generations- Margaret, Sylvia, Grace Brown and her mother |
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| Judy & Sylvia |
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| In the Smokey Mountains |
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| Aunt Thelma in front of the White House |
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| Margaret, Debbie, Grace, and Uncle Jesse |
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| Uncle Jesse and Aunt Thelma |
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| Ronnie Phillips |
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| Ronnie Phillips |
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| Ronnie in Germany |
I was cursed at an early age with a painful shyness. In my case it was always based on an inferiority complex. When it came to girls I was virtually immobilized in the romance department. My first serious venture occurred in the 8th grade at Bailey Jr. High. A friend told me that a girl named Vicki liked me. Until then I had hardly noticed her but she was cute and I was interested. She would smile at me in the hall as we passed or from across the room in study hall. I just couldn't muster the courage to break the ice and talk to her. This went on for about a month until one day I saw a good friend walking her to class and I figured that she had finally grown tired of waiting on me to make a move.
Because I was so shy I hated the American dating ritual of the time. Men were supposed to initiate the relationship but I wanted the girl to make the first move. If a girl came on too strong in those days she could damage her reputation.
In the summer of 1965, just before I started the 10th grade at East, I met a girl named Brenda. WMAK was the most popular rock station in Nashville at the time and it had about five request lines. When you called in to make a request the lines were always busy but you could hear boys and girls talking over the busy signal. This was a great way to meet girls. If you were lucky you could get their phone number. I got the phone number of a girl that had a very sexy voice. We talked a few times and we agreed to meet one day. I was happy to find out that she lived just a couple of blocks away on West Greenwood avenue just across Gallatin road from our house on McKennie. I jumped on my bike but when I saw her standing in her yard I realized who she was. Her parents were customers on my paper route and she usually was the one to pay me when I came by to collect the money each month. This sounds bad but I just kept right on peddling past her house. All I am going to say is that she was way too much woman for me and like Forrest Gump, thats all I got to say about that.
It was back to the drawing board and later I met another girl named Brenda over the request lines. When I got her number I found out that it was the number to her hospital room. She was a patient in the old Memorial hospital on Due West avenue in Madison which no longer exists. Brenda had a benign tumor removed from her leg which would be same day surgery today but this was 1965. She wanted to meet me so I boarded a city bus and rode out to Due West and Gallatin road. From there I walked all the way to the hospital which was at least a couple of miles if not more. Brenda was not an attractive girl but I didn't let that deter me. We agreed to meet at the Inglewood theater the following weekend. I sat there like a knot on a log. This was all new to me. We continued to meet there every weekend. I finally got up the nerve to hold her hand and put my arm around her but I couldn't gather the courage to kiss her. This went on for weeks but finally one weekend I was determined that I was going to kiss her. We would always meet at the Inglewood theater and when the next weekend rolled around I sat there immobilized by fear. As the movie ended I leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. I was feeling pretty good about myself until the next day when I talked to her on the phone. She wanted to break up. Talk about a jolt to your self esteem.
Debbie and I started dating in late February or early March 1966 and by July I still hadn't kissed her. We were holding hands and I was putting my arm around her but no kisses. I asked her to go steady with me on July 8th and I gave her a going steady ring. It was my plan to kiss her when I gave her the ring but I chickened out again. The next day I was determined that I wasn't leaving her house until I kissed her. She would always walk me to the front door there in her parents bedroom and I was about chicken out again. As I turned to leave I told myself that it was now or never. Turning around my aim was off and I kissed her right on the nose. We both started laughing but from that day forward I had no trouble working up the courage to kiss her. I always looked forward to leaving when we had some private moments out on that porch.
The school year of 1966 - 67 started out pretty uneventful. Debbie and I continued dating and were even planning marriage at the end of our junior year. I usually walked to East from my house on McKennie and when school let out I walked Debbie to her house on Boscobel Street. From there I walked to H.G. Hill at 6th and Shelby to work after school. I had started working there during the summer of 1966 and when I got off I would walk home. This was an everyday routine for me. Every Friday I would deposit a big part of my paycheck at the First American bank at 10th and Woodland. I enjoyed working at Hills. The store was next to the projects which were pretty rough at the time but nothing like they are today due to the proliferation of drugs and gangs. Occasionally we would spot a shoplifter. There was an older man who worked there by the name of Mr.Shreves. We were friends and he was probably in his fifties but I thought of him as much older. When you are 16 people in their fifties seem old to you. He was a tough guy who wasn't scared to confront shoplifters. Whenever we spotted somebody stealing we would just call Mr. Shreves. One day he tackled a man in the middle of the store and there was a knock down drag out fight but Mr. Shreves got the stolen merchandise back. He was fearless.
There was a little old man named "Popeye" who sold newspapers out in front of the store. He wasn't bigger than a minute. Popeye was in his 90's and he was about two fries short of a Happy Meal. Boys my age would try to avoid him because he would run at you and act like he was going to grab at your testicles. You had to protect your family jewels when walking near Popeye. I am a misfit magnet and have a knack for befriending people like Popeye. After a while we actually became friends and for whatever reason he came to like me and wouldn't harass me like he did everyone else. I also worked with a guy whose name was Charlie Churchwell. His mother owned a snack bar in the middle of the projects. I would go by there regularly and order milk shakes and ice cream cones.
While working at the store I befriended some of the rougher boys that lived in the projects. One of them happened to be in a neighborhood gang and he frequently came into the store. One Saturday night, after getting off work I stopped by the Churchwell snack bar to get a milk shake. While I was sitting in my car drinking the shake a gang of local toughs began to surround my car. They had me blocked in, leaning against the rear of my car. I sat there nonchalantly trying to figure out how I was going to get out of there in one piece. I started the car hoping they would take the hint and move out of my way when one of the boys walked up to the drivers side and stuck his head in the window. To my relief it was my friend that I had met at the store. He was needing a ride home.
One Sunday night close to my birthday in February 1967, Debbie said that she wanted to go to Church with my cousin Pam Patterson. I was in a bad mood and church was the last place that I wanted to be that night. I went with her but I wasn't a happy camper. When we got back to Debbie's house I didn't notice anything unusual until I stepped into the den. Everyone jumped out shouting happy birthday. Debbie had organized a surprise birthday party for me. I was very surprised and embarrassed for acting like a jerk that night. My sister Donna had helped plan the surprise and I hadn't been talking to her for a while. That made me feel even worse. I wasn't talking to her because she had embarrassed me in front of Debbie a few months before and I was still mad at her.
In the next few weeks after my party I began to notice a change in Debbie's attitude toward me. Like the Righteous Brothers song, she had lost that loving feeling. Debbie was giving me the cold shoulder at school and there were long awkward silences when we talked on the phone at night. We had been going together for about a year and in my heart I knew we were headed for a break-up but I didn't want to face reality. After a while I couldn't take the coolness any longer and that night on the phone I asked her if she wanted to break up with me. I could tell that it was difficult for her and after what seemed like eternity she finally admitted that she wanted to break up and date other guys. I was devastated and I hate to admit it but I cried a lot over the next days and weeks. My heart was broken. Debbie was the first girl that I ever loved and I wanted her to be the last. I broke off all contact with her for about a month or so but one day in the hallway at school Debbie's best friend Carolyn Robinson walked up to me and handed me a note from Debbie. She was wanting to get back together and I was ecstatic. I was far too eager to resume our relationship and I called her that night but events would soon prove that she wasn't really ready to get back with me like I thought.
I could tell immediately that things weren't the same between us but I didn't care. Just being with her again was good enough for me. At that time I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Debbie but she was still wanting to play the field.. There was a Diesel college on Gallatin road and young boys from all over the country were going to school there. Most of them came from the mid western states like Illinois, Indiana, Pennsylvania, and Michigan, just to name a few. They lived in apartments all over East Nashville and were competition for the local guys when it came to girls. For some reason East Nashville girls found them exciting because they were a little older and from out of town. The first sign of trouble came when I found Debbie sitting in the passenger seat of a car talking to a Diesel college boy one day after school. When I asked why she was talking to him her excuse was that he was just a friend that she knew and it was nothing. Naively I gave her the benefit of the doubt. At this time I was still saving to buy a car and in my mind a guy who had no car was facing stiff competition on the dating scene.
A few weeks after this incident I was walking home from work one night and I would always walk by Debbie's house on my way home. As I approached her house I noticed what looked like a blue convertible pulling up to her front sidewalk. I stood in the shadows watching from across the street while a boy and a girl got out of the car and ran into the house. I thought that the girl was Debbie but I wasn't sure in the dark. I was hurt and angry, not only because she might be with another boy but she was with a boy on a week night. My rules were that I could only come over on weekends. Even though I suspected that she was with somebody else I was willing again to give her the benefit of the doubt. I rationalized that maybe she was with a relative and I acted as if nothing was wrong when I saw her at school.
On the following Sunday I planned to come to her house as usual and I called to tell her that I was coming. Her niece Tammy, who was about 6 years old at the time, answered the phone. I asked to speak to Debbie but Tammy, with the candor of a 6 year old, said that her Aunt Debbie was with her new boyfriend Gene. Stunned, I just hung up the phone and walked over to my best friend Gus Fowler's house on Greenwood avenue. Gus could tell that I was upset and asked what was wrong. I told him and he immediately jumped into his car and took off and didn't say where he was going. Mrs. Fowler hugged me and I cried like a baby on her shoulder. I was embarrassed but she was very compassionate and I needed a shoulder to cry on just then. Gus drove by and picked up a friend, and unknown to me had driven by Debbie's house in order to call her a bitch as they drove by her house. Debbie has always believed I sent Gus over there but I had nothing to do with it.
I made up my mind then and there that I was going to break up with her for good and try to put her behind me. When I got home I called her and said I wanted to break up. She sounded very nonchalant about it over the phone but after we were married she told me that she cried because she really didn't want to break up. This happened near the end of our junior year and our break-up was a blessing because we were planning to get married before the start of our senior year. I didn't see Debbie all summer and several times I had the opportunity to date other girls but because of my broken heart and my usual shyness, I just couldn't bring myself to ask anyone out.
Around this time I got into the only real fist fight that I have ever had with my cousin Roy. I had always avoided fighting because my mother would tell me that real men didn't fight, plus I hate to admit it but I was a coward when I was younger but at the time I felt that I had been bullied by Roy. On this particular morning we were getting ready for school and I had been arguing with Didi over something and Roy didn't like it apparently. He charged at me but I knocked him down with one punch. He got up and charged at me again but I knocked him down a second time. By this time I was bigger than he was and I was shocked at how easy it had been. Didi and Alton jumped on my back and we all went down on the floor. Roy jumped on top of all of us but Didi broke up the fight. He pointed his finger at me and told me that he would finish the fight later. Both of us worked evening jobs after school. Roy worked at McQuiddy printing company and I worked at H.G. Hill.
I got home that night before Roy did and sat down to watch television in the dark with granddaddy. Didi was big on saving electricity and it was a common practice to sit in a dark house with no light other than the light emitting from our black and white TV set. When Roy returned from work he pointed at me and said that he wanted to see me in the back yard. I got up to follow him out but granddaddy blocked the door. He told me not to go outside but I turned and ran out through the front door. Roy and I met in the side yard near the street. I squared off to fight with my fists but he lunged at my legs, wrapping me up. It was a smart move because I wasn't expecting it. We fell to the ground and at first I was able to hold his arms where he couldn't hit me. Granddaddy was standing over us with a night stick and threatening to hit us with it if we didn't stop. About this time Didi and her boyfriend were also trying to break up the fight. Roy managed to get in one good punch that gave me a pretty good shiner. I looked like I got the worst end of the deal but I was proud of myself for finally standing up for myself. If granddaddy and Didi had stayed out of it I believe that I could have done much better.
Eventually Roy and I made up and have been good friends ever since and it all seems pretty childish now. We didn't speak to each other for about a year. Roy was my 1st cousin on my mother's side and he married Sandra Wilkinson, who was my 2nd cousin on my dad's side. They married in the summer of 1967 and he left for Air Force basic training soon after. Roy became an Air Force Security policeman and would eventually serve at Phan Rang Vietnam. He fell out of a guard tower breaking his foot so badly that he was flown back to the United States and went through months of hospitalization and surgeries. Roy and Sandra were married for many years but after two children, a girl and a boy, that marriage ended in an ugly divorce. He was remarried to Sheryl, who is from Washington state, and they have had two boys together.
I started my senior year, 1967-68 in a depressed state of mind. More than ever I was still in love with Debbie but I hadn't seen her at all for months. That summer I took my savings of 900.00 dollars and bought a 1963 green Chevy II. Because I had no one to teach me to drive I paid for lessons through a private driving school. The day that I took my eye exam for my license is the day that I found out I needed glasses because I failed my eye test. I loved that car and I felt as if I had been liberated. I would constantly drive by Debbie's house hoping that she would see me in my car and I would try to imagine what she might be doing at that particular time of the day. You do stupid stuff when you are in love.
On my first day of school I walked into Mr. McGehee's sociology class and took a seat in the very back of the room. I was checking out the girls in class when I noticed a cute girl sitting in the front desk of the same row that I was sitting in. From where I was sitting I couldn't see her face that well until she would turn her head from side to side. I hadn't seen this girl before and I couldn't take my eyes off of her the whole class. Something about her chin looked familiar to me. The bell rang and we all got up to leave. I bent over to get my books from under the desk and as I looked up the girl I had been staring at turned sideways in her seat. She stood up and looked straight at me and our eyes met at that moment. I was utterly shocked to realize that the cute girl that I had been watching was Debbie. To me her appearance was radically different and I liked it very much. Her hair was much shorter and because of that I had not recognized her.
Seeing her again only made things worse. I wanted to be with her more than ever but I was bound and determined that I would continue ignoring her. For days we passed each other in the hallway and I would see her in class but I never acknowledged her. This went on for a couple of months until one day I was walking on the sidewalk next to the lunch room and Debbie's best friend Carolyn handed me another note. Debbie wanted us to get back together again. I wanted to dance for joy but in my heart I knew I should take things slow and I shouldn't look too eager. It would probably be good if I waited a few days and let her sweat it out a little as they say. As usual I couldn't help myself. I was just too crazy about her and I called that very night. We started dating again and my brain was still telling me not to move too fast but my heart was telling me something else. I felt awkward from the start but I was determined not to lose her again.
Her behavior was still troubling to me. She had dated a few guys that were diesel college students while we were apart. Debbie had been pretty serious with Gene. The same guy that I had caught her with. He was from Jasper Indiana and I found out that after graduating from school he had returned home. In my mind I was thinking that the only reason she wanted me back was because this guy had dumped her. I didn't hold it against her because she had dated while we were apart but what bothered me was that she was still being flirtatious with these diesel college boys right in front of me. Since I have become older and wiser I realize that kids our age at the time are probably incapable of true love. I believe that it is more of an infatuation and lust than it is love. It is only after a long relationship of seeing that person as they really are that you learn to love each other. If you are still around after sickness, pregnancy, crisis, and anger then you are probably in love. It is what holds you together after the passion subsides.
In January I signed up for the Air Force delayed enlistment program. There was a long waiting list because of the war in Vietnam and I was hoping that my name would come up for the Air Force before I was drafted. I asked Debbie to marry me one night while we were waiting for our hamburgers to be brought out to my car at the Krystal on Gallatin road. Nobody can accuse me of being the romantic type. I said something like " I think we should get married". She said yes and we planned to marry right after graduation in June.
Just about this time Gus Fowler's mom died of cancer. I think that it was the late summer or Fall of 1967 that she found out that she had it. She had surgery but the doctors weren't able to get it all and she deteriorated very rapidly. Mrs. Fowler was always very nice to me and she was only thirty-six years old when she died. Thirty-six seemed so much older to me back then than it does today. Oh what I would give to be that age now. We would also find out about this same time that granddaddy had cancer. His cancer was terminal also. He was in a lot of pain in the months leading up to his death and would suffer a great deal.
Granddaddy died in July 1968 just after Debbie and I married. In the two or three years before he died we became close. After I got my car I would take him to the grocery store and to the cemetery every now and then to visit my mother and grandmother's grave at Woodlawn. Granddaddy would talk to them as if they could hear him. I didn't enjoy going there but he seemed to draw comfort from it. His hearing problem caused him to be isolated from people. For years I never said more than a few words to him and if I did I had to shout in his ear. As I got older I became curious about our family history and what he was like as a young man. I would lean close to his ear and ask him questions. After a while we were talking about everything from politics, sports, family history, and any other subject under the sun. I began to see granddaddy in a whole new light.
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| Granddaddy listening to either baseball or wrestling on the radio at North 5th and Cleveland |
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| Christmas 1968 |
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| Christmas 1968 |
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| Christmas 1968 |
In January I quit H.G. Hill and for a short while I worked at the Big Star grocery store on Riverside Drive where my brother-in-law Larry Sircy was working in the produce department. From there I went to work for Baird - Ward printing company. I didn't want to leave H.G. Hill but they cut my hours back and I was not happy at Big Star. At first Baird-Ward wouldn't hire me. Every day after school I would drive to the personnel office and ask to see the personnel manager. His secretary would tell me to have a seat and I always sat where the manager could see me sitting in the waiting room. When my turn would come he would call me in and I would ask if there were any openings. He would say no and I would thank him and leave. Each day I would return to his office and this went on for at least a couple of weeks or so. Finally, one day I was sitting in the waiting room and he stood up and walked out to where I was sitting. He said " You really want a job, don't you"? I said "yes sir I do" and he hired me .
Baird-Ward was a hard and dirty job. Harder than anything I had done to that point. My job title was jogger and I don't know why the job was named that. The presses printed such magazines as Field and Stream, Leatherneck, Humpty Dumpty, and telephone books. At the end of my shift I was usually covered head to toe in ink. When the press was running I had to tie magazine inserts together in a heavy bundle that were held together with ropes and then we would stack them on wooden pallets. Periodically the press would go down for a changeover. Then I would have to help clean out the old ink so the pressmen could set up the new type, along with threading the new paper through the press. I ruined my car seats driving home in my ink stained clothes.
I was working there the night that Martin Luther King was shot in Memphis. A few white guys were shouting things like " I hope the son of a bitch is dead" and other racist remarks. They were saying these things in front of our black employees. We only had a few blacks that worked the presses. Most worked as tow motor drivers or on the janitorial staff. Rioting broke out all over the country and in Memphis and Nashville. The Guard was activated and for several days Nashville was under a dusk to dawn curfew. The Grand Ole Opry was cancelled for the first time in its history. The only people allowed on the streets were first responders and people like myself who were going to and from our jobs. I worked 2nd shift at Plant # 2 on Powell Avenue and I could see the National Guard headquarters across the road. It was a bee hive of activity and looked like an armed camp. Armed soldiers were everywhere and military vehicles were going to and fro.
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| The assassination of Martin Luther King |
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| Tennessee National Guard patrolling the streets of Nashville |
One night during the curfew I was driving home from work down 8th Avenue South. As I neared the downtown area the streets were very dark and deserted and Nashville looked like a ghost town. My car was the only one in sight. Suddenly in the distance I saw what at first looked like a mob standing in the middle of the road. I could have made a u-turn but I just picked up speed instead with the intention of battering my way through if I had to. I floored the accelerator and to my horror I realized that what I thought was a mob was actually a large number of National Guard, State Troopers, and Nashville police that were manning a road block. By the time I realized my mistake I was moving pretty fast. My tires squealed as I slammed on my brakes and an irate police officer came up to my window and asked "Where's the fire boy"? I told him that I was on my way home from work and I didn't realize who they were. Checking my license he asked where I worked. As I was telling him a car with two male Blacks pulled up behind me. They also worked at Baird-Ward and appeared to be as frightened as I was. After they stopped the car lurched forward. I think the driver might have accidentally hit the gas pedal instead of the brake. A motorcycle cop slammed his shotgun down on the trunk of the car the police jerked these guys out and threw them up against their car. The officer that was talking to me said that the area wasn't safe and I needed to get home and that is what I did.
Just two months later I was at work the night that Robert Kennedy was shot at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. This was unreal to me. I couldn't believe that two Kennedy's had been shot in the space of five years. On my way home from work the DJ on WMAK kept playing the news feed of the sounds of chaos surrounding the assassination and subduing Sirhan Sirhan. The DJ kept saying over and over that we were a sick and violent society. I resented this because I wasn't sick and violent and I knew that most Americans weren't either. This was my conservatism rearing it's head before I even knew what a conservative was or what you might call just plain common sense.
In May of 1968 Debbie and I made plans to go to the prom. I took her out on West End to have her hair done at a beauty shop while I waited in the car and took a nap. Things haven't changed much in all our years of marriage. She shops and I take a nap. I rented a tuxedo and arrived at the appointed time. This was my first prom or anything like a school dance that I had ever been to. I couldn't dance and I wasn't about to start because I was just too self conscious. When it came to the usual things associated with the high school experience I wasn't into it. I only went to the prom because of Debbie nor did I buy a senior ring or join any clubs. I only bought one yearbook and that was my senior year. Luckily Debbie bought her sophomore, junior and senior yearbooks. I appreciate that today but I wasn't looking ahead to the future. Debbie belonged to a number of clubs and was more into the social life of high school but I am not a joiner or a follower because I march to a different drummer.
We had to be home at 12 PM. Deb's mom allowed us two hours beyond our curfew of 10:00 P.M. We had a formal picture taken and then we hung around for a while and left. We didn't dance but I wish I had and there have been many occasions since that I have wanted to dance with her but I just couldn't work up the courage. We left and drove out Murfreesboro road for a while and finally drove home. We weren't party goers and we didn't drink so there wasn't a whole lot to do. The nature of our dates in these last few months before graduation were different because my car gave us more mobility and privacy. We would go on double dates with her friend Carolyn or we would go by ourselves to the Montague or Colonial Drive-in. The Montague was in Inglewood and the Colonial was in Madison. We went to see the movie To Sir With love, starring Sidney Poitier, but to this day I can't tell you much about the movie because we made out the whole time. There are no deep dark secrets to reveal here because Debbie and I remained virgins until we married.
We were both very naive when it came to sex but I did talk her into going out to Shelby Park one night so we could be alone. Kids would go there and park near the railroad trestle to make out but Debbie was afraid to go there from the start. She didn't want to be near anyone so we drove up to a narrow one way road above the lake and parked. After a while car lights lit up the inside of my car and I noticed a police car pulling up behind us. They shined the spotlight on us and Debbie was mortified. She didn't want her mother finding out what happened. The police officer was understanding and advised me that it was okay to park as long as I kept my parking lights on. I was willing to stay but our first and last experience on lovers lane was over. We graduated on June 6, 1968 and I really can't remember much about that day. All I know is that I felt liberated. I was poor as a church mouse but I had my girl. She was all that mattered to me at that moment.
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