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Lonnie!

World War II was raging in 1941-42. I met Lonnie at an Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity meeting in Columbus, OH. We were both in graduate school at Ohio State and working part-time at the local YMCA. Right away I knew Lonnie was a quick thinker. High spirited and being from St. Louis, he had been around the block a couple of times; so to speak. He feared no man and would fight for what he believed in.

Lonnie was very much a “race man,” he was for the progress of his people. Here’s an example.

After a football game between Ohio State and University of Michigan, we were discussing the game and Lonnie rushed up and said this: “Did you see the black guy with the Ohio State marching band?” (Ohio State was known to have one of the best marching bands in the country at that time.) After that statement, someone in the group said, “We didn’t see any black person with the marketing band.” (If it were true, this would be the first negro to be a

part of that great band.) Lonnie, in true form, said, “I believe he is the first black student to be a part of tha

t great band.” And it occurred to me that since I had not seen him I told Lonnie. I said, “By the way, what instrument was he playing? Lonnie said, “Brother Lee that guy wasn’t playing any instrument he was just marching; but that black boy was marching like hell!” I said to Lonnie, “In any marching group, everybody marches exactly the same, was everybody marching like hell?” He glared at me and said, “Brother Lee, I don’t know what those other guys were doing, but like I said, that brother was marching like hell!”

That was the type of enthusiasm that Lonnie had when it came to racial progress of his people.

One day I asked Lonnie to be a substitute referee at an important basketball game, the Axis vs. Allies. It was a tough game and the spirit was high. The Axis at one point didn’t like a call that Lonnie made against them. The captain of the team rushed up to Lonnie with his team following. With anger in his eyes and his fists half closed he confronted Lonnie on the call he had made. The crowd was silent.

I’m thinking, “Here we go, but not in the YMCA.” The leader was glaring eye to eye at Lonnie, who slowly took the whistle from around his neck and handed it to me. I’m thinking, “Here we go.” Lonnie glared at him and together they glared at each other for maybe 15 or 20 seconds. What seemed like 15 or more minutes. Not a word was said and Lonnie stood facing the team’s leader eye ball to eye ball with his chin up and ready for battle.

The leader had his team slowly back down and the game was on again. As I said before, Lonnie was from St. Louis, DOWNTOWN, St. Louis, if you know what I mean. We had a great time together, until we were both drafted into the military, Lonnie in the Army and I in the Navy. During and after the war, I lost track of Lonnie.

About 25 years later I attended the Alpha Phi Alpha National Convention in Philadelphia. I sat in on one of the business meetings with a small group of new brothers listening to the neophytes challenge the fraternity precepts. The leader of that meeting in a very forceful way looked into

the eyes of the neophytes and shouted with his fists in the air. “I would die before I would allow this to even come before this organization.” The neophyte brothers starred at him and he starred at them, what seemed almost 10 minutes. Slowly, without a word they backed down and sat in their seats.

The leader of the meeting had been president of two colleges, was a national figure and spokesman for his people in the US and now resided as 22nd General President of Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity, Dr. Lionel H. Newsom…my man from DOWNTOWN St. Louis, brother Lonnie.

61st Monmouth County Cotillion

Forrester Lee was honored at the 61st Monmouth County Cotillion in Asbury Park, New Jersey on May 14, 2011. He was the surviving founding member of the cotillion. It's originator, Florence Hayes died this year and was also honored. His Alpha phi Alpha brothers accompanied him.

He was also joined by his son-in-law, Sohn Lewis, and daughter, Marian Lewis.

The event took place at the Asbury Park Convention Hall on the boardwalk.

The debutantes were in white formal dresses and the escorts were in tails. Awards and scholarships were presented and the king and queen were crowned based on scholastic achievement.

PICTURE ANY CROWD OF PEOPLE -- TWENTIETH CENTURY, IF POSSIBLE

“If you have tears to shed, prepare to shed them now.” Shakespeare

If you have words to say, prepare to say them now. There could be several billion other voices yet to be heard.

The National Geographic Society has just published the results of an extensive study of the earth’s population. It’s called the world of seven billion.

It begins “Earth’s population hits seven billion in 2011. The percentage of people with a decent standard of living is higher than it ever has been yet. Inequality still abounds: Two percent of the population today owns 50 percent of the wealth. But the gap between the world’s poorest and the richest is now filled by a broad middle-income group that scarcely existed on a global scale 50 years ago.”

The report goes on to point out many good things to think about, for example -- birthrate falling, more children live to be adults, fewer adults die of preventable diseases, etc.

The report implies that the small percentage who own such a large percentage of the wealth in the world owned even more than 50% before 1970. Today 98 percent of the people on earth must be satisfied with only one half of the earth’s wealth.

One commentator reporting on the rebellion in the middle east last week that young men there were being paid $2.50 per week. Perhaps the only thing good is it might enable the economy about 2 million dollars or more per week.

Incidentally, this past week on the t.v. a group of people were asked to check the clothes they were wearing and keeping on only the clothes that were made in America. They all had to stop when they were down to their undies. This was because of the law, of course.

Where would we look to find out what the hourly pay in these foreign countries who made the items of clothing that were taken off by this group.

Wouldn’t it help our economy if most of these items we make were made in America and we paid the CEO’s in thousands instead of millions.

History of the Monmouth County Cotillion

Shortly after the end of WWII in late l949 or l950, a young veteran and his wife, living on the outskirts of New York, decided to move to the Jersey shore area where his wife was raised. Red Bank, New Jersey, about l3 miles from Asbury Park, a small, busy town on the Shrewsbury River.

Leon and Florence G. Hayes were soon involved in the social and community betterment activities of Red Bank, one being the Red Bank YMCA Westside Branch of which I was the Executive Director. Leon was on the Board of Directors and Flo was a member of the Women’s Auxiliary.

Flo, a teacher and piano instructor, mentioned the cotillion to me one day and said that she was going to present the idea to the Women’s Auxiliary and what did I think. I thought that it was an excellent idea but would a group of mostly busy, hard-working, middle class women go for such a huge undertaking? And would the parents, some of whom were on welfare, be interested enough to do their part?

Flo would present it at the September meeting. I attended to oversee the reaction. The meeting was called to order and Flo couldn’t get a word in edgewise. The agenda was long and the discussions were lively and lengthy. Questions regarding major and minor concerns about the youth needs and activities were brought up and discussed, or put off for another meeting. Much was done and much was left for future meetings.

The meeting ended and Flo, except for saying thank you after being introduced and welcomed as a new member, wasn’t able to introduce her idea.

But, as she and a lady friend were leaving the meeting room, Flo stopped in the doorway and turned around and said “Ladies, there is something that I would like to introduce to you at the next meeting.”

In my mind, that statement was the spark that started the flame that has lasted for over 60 years – and is brighter today than it ever was I had no idea at that time that I was witnessing such a powerful movement.

At the October meeting, Flo presented the idea of a cotillion with all of major and subordinate committees necessary, working together for a common cause.

Just hours after this meeting, the telephone wires were hot and burning from small surrounding communities saying no, you cannot have a cotillion just for Red Bank and saying that you cannot have a Westside Branch YMCA cotillion for the Red Bank area. We must be included in this. Please tell us what our community needs to do to be a part of it.

At the November meeting of the Westside Branch YMCA Women’s Auxiliary, Florence Hayes expressed this point of view:

“I know you ladies have already started your various committee functions, but this cotillion this spring will be the Monmouth County Cotillion. There will be other towns involved. Proceed with your responsibilities. They will also do the same.”

The First Monmouth County Cotillion started on time 8:00 pm, April 28th, at the Asbury Park High School auditoriumbefore an audience of about 500 people.

May 14th, 2011, the 61st Cotillion will be presented at the Convention Hall in Asbury Park, New Jersey at 2:00 pm.

THEN

Brief Unrelated events of the Past

When we were living in Cincinnati Ohio and my brother, Mossell was ten or eleven, he seemed to be having trouble walking. I asked, “Moss, what’s the matter with your leg?” He said, “Can’t bend it anymore.” I asked, “Does it hurt?” He reached down rubbing his leg and said, “Yes, can’t bend it anymore.” I said “You’d better tell dad.” “No, no,” he said there’s nothing wrong. I just can’t bend it. I’ll be like this the rest of my life.”

At the dinner table that night, I thought I had better say something to my father. I looked at Mossell, then at dad, he didn’t seem worried, so I just piped up and said,” Dad. Moss hurt his left leg.” Dad said, “Yes, I know. We’re going to see Dr. Clark in the morning, Saturday.” Mossell had told me not to mention it to my father, but he seemed a little surprised. I didn’t say anymore, and Mossell just stared straight ahead. I didn’t know what to think, so I just said, “Can I go with you?” Dad said, “Yes, okay, Moss,” who acted like he wasn’t paying any attention. He was sort of looking straight ahead at nothing and said, “Yeah, Dad, we’ll see Dr. Clark at 10:00 am tomorrow. If my mother was there at the time, I don’t know. Charles???? If he was there, he was probably smiling to himself.

We were at the doctor’s office the next morning. There were several people ahead of us. Mossell always tried to look after me. I looked at him. He was looking straight ahead. I whispered, “Does your leg hurt?” He didn’t answer, he just looked straight ahead. Finally, it was our turn. The doctor greeted us with a smile and said, “What have we here?” as he closed the door.

It didn’t take very long. As they came out, the doctor said, in a serious voice, “Come back next week and we’ll decide what has to be done.

As we walked home, I noticed that Mossell was walking a little better. I said, “Dad, I think Mossell can bend his left leg a little,” and by the time we got home, Mossell was walking normally.

At home, my father said to Mossell, “Don’t you ever pull that trick again. If there is something you need to talk about, your mother and I will sit down with you and talk about it.”

The Wilberforce Collegians

Paul and I played with the Collegians about two years. Paul played the guitar and I the upright bass. He wrote most of the arrangements. One year shortly after school started we picked up a kid just out of high school. His name was Snooky Young, a terrific trumpet player. He later played with several of the Big Bands including Duke Ellington and Count Basie, Doc Severenson, etc. Google Snooky Young.

More Collegians

In those days, most young men had a great deal of respect for the opposite sex. Our piano player, a fellow student. was a young lady. When considering her to join the group, the guys had one problem – our language. Our language? Yes, there were times that some of us didn’t express ourselves in a way that would be proper if a woman was present. Long pause – discussion -- long silence --- then one fellow, probably an English major, said “We could use substitute words, so the ”s” word became “shed.”

It actually worked out very well. I was really surprised. Our leader spoke of this while on tour, but a funny thing happened in Memphis, Tennessee before we headed back to Ohio.

A relative of one of the fellows invited the band to her home for lunch, all l5 members. It was a beautiful home with a large family room, however, when the hostess rushed over to three of our guys as they were settling down on one couch, with a large brush in her hand, she almost frantically said, “Oh, I am sorry I didn’t have time to brush the sofa, the dog slept on last night and I know she made a mess on it. She SHEDS all over the place. The three fellows jumped up so fast they were airborne in a split second. The nice lady relative never knew how funny it was. On the rest of the trip the guys were called the three astronauts.

PAUL AND I (continued)

I was still reeling and in shock to learn that Paul and Laura had been dating the year before at the University of Cincinnati. Paul, dating such an attractive girl and being so casual and nonchalant about it. Paul, who for years depended on me to help him socially, especially with dating. In high school Paul came to the senior prom without a date.

Laura came to Wilberforce that winter. The campus hotshots tried to make a move on her to no avail. Paul was her number one guy and everyone looked on with amazement. She was as attractive as ever. The girls on the campus took a big sigh of relief as the fellows who tried to date Laura were left puzzled and perplexed and put out. Where does Paul Brown fit in the picture? Paul and Laura were a couple.

(to be continued)

PAUL AND I

Wilberforce University

I am so grateful and indebted to my daughter, Marian, for suggesting the title for my blog (Grandpa Then and Now)

The present covers a lot of time. Thank you, Marian. I am grateful to you for expediting the time for production. I use the Columbus system typing (discover and land.) I would probably still be on number 1 blog.

This blog is THEN. PAUL AND I.

(Suggestion: read “My Friend Paul” blog to know Paul.

After graduating from Walnut Hills High School, Paul spent his first year at the University of Cincinnati, Ohio and I attended Wilberforce University in Ohio.

Being freshmen in two different schools, we had very little communication with each other.

For whatever reason Paul decided to matriculate at Wilberforce University for his second year. Paul was a brilliant student so U.C. couldn’t have been too difficult for him. We decided to be roommates that year. We had another roommate who was absent most of the time.

Paul still depended on me to help him in his social life. We enjoyed laughing about some of our high school ventures, then there were times like:

Paul – Lee, don’t go to sleep yet. I’ve got a question.

Me – I’m tired, Paul. Coach made us do 5 miles before 8:00 am this morning.

Paul – This girl in chemistry class wants me to help her with a project.

Me – What’s the problem?

Why would she ask me?

Me – Put it on the table over there.

Paul – Lee, don’t go to sleep. What do you think?

Me – What was the question?

Paul – Are you awake?

Me – I’m awake. What was the question?

Paul – Lee, don’t go to sleep. Are you awake? Me – Yeah, the girl. She wanted to go to the store – for what!

Paul – Lee, Lee, Lee, wake up.


Me – Ok. ok. ok. ok….

Another night.

Paul – Lee

Me – Yeah.

Paul – Remember the girl, Laura who finished Woodward High last year? Me – Yeah, very attractive girl.

Paul – She’ll be here next quarter. She’s going to transfer fro U.C.

Me – Ok. Tomorrow. Tomorrow – talk about it tomorrow. Man I need some sleep.

Paul – She’s gong to expect me to be taking her out.

Me – If you say so, Paul.

I finally was off to sleep.

The next morning I was out early and kept thinking, was I dreaming and did Paul say this girl was coming to Wilberforce and would be asking him to take her to school affairs. He did mention her name, but taking her out – No. Maybe I was dreaming.

I did see him that afternoon on the campus. We gave our usual greeting from our high school days. Paul got it from a ancient Greek or Roman reading. Right hand in a salute position, but point upward, fingers closed, and the upper body in a quick upward gesture and the word “Ta.” That was our greeting.

Me – I was dead tired last night, but you said something about this girl, Laura switching from U.C. to Wilberforce next quarter.

Paul – Yeah.

Me - (a brief pause) You took her out last year when you were at U.C.?

Paul – A couple of times.

Me – How come you didn’t tell me?
Paul – We were just friends. Hey, see you later. I’m late.

This was puzzling to me, so much so that later I asked Paul just how did this relationship come about.

(to be continued)

GREAT LAKES, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS OR CHI-TOWN

Great Lakes, Chicago Illinois

In spring of 1944 the Japanese were showing their strength. The Germans were trying to take over Europe and I was entering the fight to help in any way I could.

The training was rugged and challenging at times, but as I look back on those times, the first thing that comes to my mind is the one day of liberty in Chicago. Three of us were in the big city of Chicago with limited change in our pockets and looking for a place to spend it. There was a group that had made a recording that was selling like hot cakes. It was called “Straighten up and Fly Right” and they were performing at a small club within our reach, physically and financially. ha.

We made our way there and as we entered the emcee was saying “Ladies and gentlemen, the King Cole Trio.”

The young fellow singing and playing the piano was none other than Nat King Cole who later became one of the world’s greatest entertainers with his beautiful voice and engaging personality. Nat King Cole. ha ha.

BOOT CAMP? Well, the war had been going on for a couple of years and I was doing my part. I was excited , yet a little apprehensive. I wasn’t surprised to find that the training camps were segregated. Being from Ohio, I was well acquainted with racial separation and some outright segregation. I was sure that this situation in the military would be resolved by the war’s end and would be a number one issue in the country in the post-war days.

Physical protesting was not my nature. I chose to try to lead by example. More power to those who were willing to offer their lives in protest. It takes strong action on all fronts.

Navy boot camp training was interesting, gratifying in some ways, and compelling at times. My college and graduate school training in health and physical education were an advantage. After a few weeks, I was assisting in some of the training procedures, and at the same time getting a good workout myself. ha.

THE WORLD WAR II YEARS

My war years were about 1936 to 1946. I was in college in ’36 and two years of military training was required. ROTC (Reserve Officer Training Core.) The full four years was available for those who wanted to be reserve officers. A very small number took the 4-year course. There were 3 or 4 military officers on campus provided the full training.

The majority of the students didn’t take compulsory 2-year training seriously. At some time during the year, a higher ranked officer would come and test the trainees. The visiting officer was giving the class an oral test. The local officer would sit in the back of the visiting officer and give the answer with hand signals when possible. ha

I finished college in 1940 and was in graduate school at the Ohio State University and working for the local YMCA in Columbus. I had registered at my draft board in Cincinnati. My draft board had passed me up several times because my work was considered vital and important for the stabilization of the home front.

I was married in l942 and was still in school and working at the YMCA. I was offered a bigger and better position at the Pittsburgh YMCA. I told my draft board in Cincinnati, Ohio that I would give them my new address as soon as I got settled there.

I heard from them promptly – not in these exact words, but – “Don’t pack your boxes yet. Things are getting pretty hot over there and if it’s not too much trouble, report to your local recruiting office on the following date, March 3, 1944 or we’ll come and pick you up and it won’t be very pretty. I complied, of course.

There were one hundred guys from all walks of life reporting that day. We had to take most of our clothes off and form a long line for the physical exam.

There must have been a paper shortage because when each doctor finished with you, instead of writing his report on paper, he would mark his report on your body. Each doctor marked passed or failed in his given area. When the exam was complete, we were placed in various groups. Probably passed, failed, or need return for more thorough exam. The group I was in was smaller than the other two. I thought my group was the rejects. My co-workers and friends had given me a big send off party. What will I do if I am rejected?

They finally told us that we were accepted. We formed a long line and the sergeant yelled out, “Anyone who wishes to be in the marines, take one step forward. A few of my group stepped up, but the rest of us were sent to another line. We reported to another desk and were asked “Navy or Army?” As I got near the head of the line, I realized that each man was asked “army or Navy” and regardless of what the recruiter answered, the reply was “Navy it is.” That day every recruit was put in the Navy or marines, regardless of what his answer was. That was fine with me.

Navy was what I wanted. Being a certified swimming instructor, I might have slightly a better chance if the ship flipped over. ha ha

Hold your breath while I recall a few highlights of my experience in boot camp at Great Lakes Naval Training Center in Chicago, Illinois.

(to be continued)

LOCKPORT

The city of Lockport, New York placed Aaron A. Mossell (see previous blog) on their Walk of Fame as an outstanding businessman and civil rights leader and his philanthropic contributions to the needy.

His grandparents were slaves. He was raised in Baltimore, Maryland. As a young man and learned the brick-making business there. He bought a home, married, and had two children. The Civil War was going on. He had no formal education and with no education, segregation, and no future, he decided to move the family to Canada where he went to night school and got a basic education.

Soon he founded his own brick-making business. It was successful and his family also grew to five children. One daughter died in Haiti while assisting her minister brother who did missionary work for the AME (African Methodist Episcopal) church. The other daughter became a teacher in Florida. the three boys finished college.

Aaron's sons also did well. Dr. Nathan F. Mossell was the first black doctor to finish the University of Pennsylvania medical school. Aaron A. Mossell, Jr. was the first black man to finish the University of Pennsylvania Law School. He was very active as a lawyer during the race riots in Philadelphia and the civil rights movement. Later, he went to Wales and spent the rest of his life there. Aaron Sr.’s granddaughter, Sadie Tanner Mossell, along with her husband, Raymond Pace Alexander were nationally known attorneys for their fight to uphold the precepts and standards of the Mossells. You can Google Sadie Mossell and Aaron A. Mossell for an overview.

MOSSELL CHILDREN

I was a youngster in the l920s. Children spent most of their time out of doors. Indoors was for eating, sleeping and doing as few chores as possible. Radios were owned by one or two families in a city block and mainly were for adults – so when a new family arrived on the block, the kids wanted to know all about them. Their names, ages, number of boys, number of girls, etc. Very often I had this problem. I would say four boys and no girls. Their names were Frank, Mossell, Charles, and my name is Forrester, but they call me Billy. They would say that’s just three. You counted yourself twice. No, I wanted to say louder, Frank, Mossell, Charles, and me. They would say, “You said Frank, yourself, Charles and you?” Now even louder I said, “Frank, Mossell…” “You have a brother named ‘Myself’?” “No, MOSSELL!”

Mossell is an interesting name. My brother was given Nathan Frances Mossell Lee. My mother was a Mossell. Her great uncle Aaron A. Mossell, Sr. was the grandson of slaves and lived in Baltimore, Maryland. Born in 1824, he was married with three children at the time. He worked for a company that made bricks.

Note: One’s family background does not make the individual. What we ourselves do is what makes us who we are. That being said – what Aaron Albert Mossell, Sr., born in 1824, the grandson of slaves with his wife Eliza accomplished is really noteworthy. Read what each of their five children accomplished. This is a great American story. Please go to Google and write Aaron Albert Mossell, Sr.”

MY FRIEND PAUL

He had a brilliant scientific and philosophical mind.

A friend in need is a friend indeed.

Paul Brown, a great friend? Yes, but much more. He had a brilliant scientific and philosophical mind. Paul read the Bible cover to cover twice before making up his mind about religion. I drew on him for his sharp mind. He used me to help him in social situations. We were at opposite ends of the spectrum. He was an only child with few, if any, playmates. I had three older brothers and a neighborhood full of playmates.

We were going home from school one day. As we approached a filling station on the corner, I told Paul to ask the guy inside for a key to the restrooms which was in the back of the building. When Paul didn’t come out right away, I went in and he was standing there looking at the girl behind the desk with his mouth open and nothing coming out. It was unusual in the 1930s finding a female in a filling station, but there she was. I was there for the rescue. ha

A pretty little girl invited Paul over on Friday evening. I had to go with him. I did all the talking. Later, I said, “It’s getting a little late. We had better get going.” I said, “Good night, Paul.” He said, “Yeah.” I guessed we’d be going – good night. She said, “Good night.” When we were out, Paul said, “You think she likes me?” I said, “You’d have to ask her, Paul.”

About this time, Paul was writing arrangements for a small musical group we had, although he never studied music, like harmony or arranging, or music in any form.

Paul and I had a great time our senior year in high school. I gave up some of my sports in order to keep up with Paul and graduate. I loved all forms of music, including classical, but struggled with the fundamentals of reading music, writing, and playing it. Paul was a natural whiz in all forms. I tried to help him socially, but he was of little help to me. It is difficult for an average guy to pick up scientific and technical knowledge from another just by association. Paul and I had fun laughing at each other, playing a few gigs together, and having a little change in our pockets. Remember, this was right in the middle of the Great Depression.

After graduation, Paul went to the University of Cincinnati, Ohio – I attended Wilberforce University in Wilberforce, Ohio.

Our sophomore year in college is another story, as you will find.

RE: PEACOCK, BATS AND THE MOSQUITOES

We were to collect the money agreed to by our manager and give it to the band the next night in Dayton, Ohio. We were paid a weekly rate. We never knew the outcome.

GERTRUDE STEIN

A world-renowned poet born in Pennsylvania in 1874, educated at Radcliffe College and Johns Hopkins University and lived in Paris for thirty years – and I can only think of her as writing “a rose is a rose is a rose.” Writing those words, she was making a profound statement. I doubt that she thought 100 years later that people would be debating its meaning and the logic.

She says “things are what they are…a statement of the law of identity.” Simply using the name of a thing. Shakespeare says, “a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.” Gertrude Stein said, or implied, that a rose by any other name would be a rose by any other name and might smell just as sweet. A rose is not a rose by any other name – a rose is a rose is a rose. She also said that “a rose” already invokes the image and the emotion associated with it – so I am thoroughly convinced now that Santa will bring me a nice gift this year but if Santa comes under another name, it could be a nice gift or it might be an ugly bright green necktie that I wouldn’t wear in the next 150 years.

Santa is Santa is Santa.

I will sleep well Christmas eve.

Thank you, Santa

Grandpa

A Rose is a Rose is a Rose

A Rose is a Rose is a Rose
Gertrude Stein

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
William Shakespeare

Gertrude is saying: “Bill, there is no other name. A rose is a rose is a rose. Period.

Now, back to the 20th century!!

The names of the big powerbrokers around the world are just what they sound like – POWER. To really know them, you would really have to know their nick-names -- sorry, I’m not privy to that either, but here are a few nicknames of people I encountered in my younger days, K through graduate school.

1) Buzzle But – Professor in college
2) undercover – he was short and wide
3) Gravel mouth, an athlete who talked fast and sounded like he had marbles in his mouth
4) Rodent – nice guy with a small head
5) Rip – nice guy, but was often in trouble talking (at that time a person ripped when he got out of line at a bad time.)
6) Playboy – (No explanation necessary
7) But Low, a great football player who had very short legs
8) Muffle Duff – a leader of our jazz band who was always tumbling for no reason at all
9) Peanuts – loved ‘em
10) Slick – he was slick, period
11) Giant – he was small and anything but giant-like
12) Pickle – loved them
these were all good people, some became very successful, but had nick-names that were not the usual run of the mill. Oh, one more. I played bass with the Wilberforce Collegians for about two years. We traveled for three months in the summer. This particular summer, we started in Kokomo, Indiana. We all agreed that we blew that town almost off the map.

Of the l4 or l5 players, I was the only one who was a physical education major, and perhaps, had a little better build and was a little more “fit” than the others. They called me “Gorilla.” At the intermission in Kokomo, Indiana, a young lady talked to me about Wilberforce University and expressed an interest in the school and wanted to keep in touch. She wrote my name and address on a card, said that she would keep in touch. I also gave her my school address because we would be back at the school in a few weeks while on tour.

We went back on stage to play and she ran up and said, by the way, is Gorilla really a part of your name? I told her it was just a nick-name.

After a couple of weeks, we were back in Ohio and one of the fellows picked up the mail at the school and we were on our way to Michigan.

I liked to sit up front next to the driver in a seat a little lower than the driver seat – to help protect the lives of the guys – especially mine. I opened my letter and the first thing I saw was “My dear Gorilla.” Unfortunately, I was not the only one who saw that and he hollered it out, “My dear Gorilla?” The rest of the summer, the guys called me “My dear Gorilla.”

Lucky for me, it didn’t carry over during the next year. However, my brother-in-law, who was in my class, called me “G” for the next 30 or 40 years. ha – the joke was on me.

Signed,

Gorilla

POST SCRIPT TO THE BLOG “THE UPS AND DOWNS OF COLLEGE LIFE”

What did the letter in the sealed envelope say? I don’t know. I didn’t open it because I wanted her to know the truth. I felt that I would be with her for the rest of her life and when she would find that I told her the truth, she would always trust me to care for her and never have to apologize if she was wrong in her judgment of me.

THE PEACOCK, THE BATS AND THE MOSQUITOES

Painting by Debra L. Hoover

The summer of 1937 was an exciting one, to say the least. I played with the school orchestra, the Wilberforce Collegians, was on tour for three months under the supervision of a professional promotion company. We were booked up from late June to early September. We started in Kokomo, Indiana, and ended in Michigan. The promotion company in Traverce City, Michigan, represented and traveled with us.

Many interesting and some unforgettable things happened during our travels. One week began in Cleveland, Ohio and ended in Dayton, Ohio. Incidentally, we had an exceptional trumpet player with us named Snooky Young who later became a national sensation. Go to “Google” to see him.

The week started in Cleveland at the Trianon Ballroom. Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. What a beautiful place. The state was huge, the space for the rhythm section was large, and had a separate platform for me and my bass. We were as proud as peacocks. The orchestra felt and played like we were on top of the world. When we finished there Thursday night, we packed our things on the school bus and were on our way to a small mining town in West Virginia. My personal blanket was pulled over my head and like the rest of the guys, I was settled down for a midnight ride. By the way, the night after West Virginia was Dayton, Ohio. As usual, the contract for the gig in West Virginia read that we would be paid off by the named individual at intermission. Our manager said that he would meet us in Dayton at the intermission. The West Virginia orchestra leader would pick up the money.

The dance area was on the second floor. I usually estimated the size of attendance by the number of people arriving before the starting time, plus the number at the starting time. We were going to have an overflowing crowd at this affair in the little mining town. The orchestra played well and the place was packed.

At the intermission, there were a few people still arriving. I saw one fellow come in with five girls and when he found the pocket with the money, it all came out and I doubt he could tell one bill from another. He was feeling pretty good.

Our orchestra members went to see the man who was to pay the orchestra. After about 45 minutes, they still hadn’t found the money man. They began to ask questions and confront some of the orchestra members. By then, the sheriff arrived and from the stage, he told the people the situation. They still were not satisfied and had become a bit unruly. He called for help. They came and the whole second floor was cleared, to our relief, the mob around the bus had to be cleared away, too, while we loaded our instruments on and were safe inside.

Two police cars, one in front and one in the back, escorted us until we were out of danger. This was in the mountains of West Virginia, there were no guard rails and every curve was potential danger. Still in the middle of the night, we were finally out of the dangerous part of the mountains, on our way to Dayton, Ohio. What a relief. But as luck would have it, boys will be boys. During a little horse play, they had loosened the right half of the bus windshield and somehow it came out.

We tried to fix it to no avail. I wasn’t expecting any success with the repair effort. There were only about 25 of us. Out of about 250 musicians, finding one with mechanical skill would be a miracle.

We each put our blankets over our head traveling at 55 and 60 miles per hour, we had to fight the night bugs and mosquitoes flying in the bus as best we could for the next several hundred miles. Once in awhile I would peep out of one corner of the blanket and duck back in as I saw and heard the little bugs coming through the open window at me. I was wondering if possibly any bats might be passing through, also.

We were all tired when we reached Dayton, Ohio. The two or three hours sleep was not of much help.

We did well that Saturday night, however, I forgot to mention that my friend Paul Brown, was the guitar player on that summer trip. You have to read my earlier blogs to know my friend, Paul. Perhaps, this will give you a little idea of who Paul was.

That Saturday night, we were all dead tired, but like real troopers, we held forth until the final note was played.

When we played the hottest number, “White Heat” at one point I was upstage in front. The bass was placed on its side on the floor and I was straddling it like a horse and “Cab” Dixon was riding on the back. I was “whipping” the bass in time with the music. It was a hot number, and funny.

I glanced over at Paul and he was sound asleep, his head down and eyes closed and playing “White Heat” with the orchestra and he never missed a beat. ha

THE UPS AND DOWNS OF COLLEGE LIFE

At Wilberforce University, the third week in May was quite exciting in Ohio because the physical education department had their outdoor exhibition and the gym team was a big attraction. We practiced hard, especially when our girlfriends were watching. Most of my senior year, I was living off campus at our homestead. We were also on a strict diet during this time.

The day of the exhibit was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Everything went well. My Aunt Effie was among the spectators, and there was a huge turnout that evening. My Aunt Effie said to Aunt Sarah, “I had no idea that Billy was so good at these gymnastic things.” I smiled as if it was nothing, but what a day. I also had met the young sister of one of my best friends and the daughter of Dr. James Robinson, dean of the sociology department. She was one of the spectators. She was a sophomore and I had been escorting her to some of the affairs on the campus. I was sort of free at that time and told her brother, my friend, I would sort of look out for her -– but back to that day on the campus.

That big day was not quite o ver. My fraternity was having their Spring dance that night. I was on the committee to decorate the gym and we were out in the woods gathering green shrubbery and plants for decorations. The school is in a very country area.

I had dinner after that, dressed for the dance and went to the dorm to pick up my date, my friend’s sister. She had to sign out of her dorm, write down where she was going, and the approximate time that she would return. What a day so far. – We arrived at the dance and sat at a table near the orchestra. I enjoyed sitting there listening to the music. The Collegians, my band, were playing. They sounded very good. I had taken a night off from the orchestra. We had an excellent bass player who took my place when necessary.

It was relaxing to sit there with good friends and my friend, Jimmy and his sister. What a day – a successful gymnastic exhibition, a good dinner, a trip out in the woods with the frat brothers, and now a time to relax at the Alpha phi Alpha Ball with friends. Although some of the guys would find a way to get their choice of drinks and have them before and after, or during an affair like this, it was seldom discovered by school officials. However, the brothers had some non-alcoholic beverages at the table. I didn’t try to bring any drinks. Not that I would not mind a little, but I didn’t have the money, the connection, or the time for that. And being with Dr. Robinson’s daughter, I would not indulge if I could. So I decided to have a few sips of the juice on our table. It was very tart, but okay.

After ten or fifteen minutes, my stomach started cramping and I was so sick, I couldn’t stand up and walk. The fellows at our table realized that my condition was serious and with one on each side, and my arms over their shoulder, they half-walked and half-carried me out. I’m sure that everyone thought that I was drunk.

I don’t know how I got to the house, which was about a twenty minutes walk from the campus. Very few students had a car of their own. My guess is that some teacher, maybe a fraternity brother provided a car – I’m sure that I was driven to the house.

Aunt Sarah, who was never married, was always the one to help us four boys when help was needed. She could see right away that my condition was serious. My oldest brother was there. He was an assistant teacher in the biology department. Frank sort of took over and got me to bed.

I guess they both thought that I had been drinking, especially Aunt Sarah – but neither of them knew if I had been in this condition before. The question was how serious was my condition.

They called the school doctor. He came in a short time. He told them that I was bilious and I think he told them it was probably from the tart juice that I had, plus something I had eaten for dinner that was off (not fresh). He was probably right. He gave me medication and by the next afternoon I felt okay, except that I felt a little weak and had lost so much liquid in my system. My whole body seemed to have shrunk by 30 or 40 pounds, and I looked like a ghost, but in spite of that, I decided to go back to the campus. The house wasn’t really home to me. The campus was “home” and the house was mainly for eating and sleeping. I immediately went to see my date, Dr. Robinson’s daughter, to explain what happened to me. I sent word to her and waited for her to meet me in front of her dorm.

When she finally came out, she looked at me and said nothing. We walked around to the right side of the dorm. There was a bench made of cinder blocks with a flat piece of slate on top. We sat there and talked a little I told her that the doctor said that I was bilious from too tart food mixing with perhaps, food that was not fresh.

She handed me a white envelope sealed with a message inside. I looked at her beautiful eyes, and saw a tear in one eye. I had the envelope in my hand – I reached down and put the sealed envelope in an opening in front of the bench that we were sitting on. I never read it.  We walked around for quite awhile. When we got back to the dorm I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Reading my lips, she said, “Okay.” If that bench is still there, so is the envelope.

That night I sat in my bed with pen in hand and wrote a Dear John letter to a previous girlfriend. Four years later I married my wife and we had two children and were happily married for 68 years!!

Dad celebrating his birthday with his Spanish class at Church of the Ascension

MUSIC, MUSIC, MUSIC

The Mills Brothers: Herbert, John, Donald and Harry

I had to spend an extra year in high school because of a serious case of athlete’s foot. I was out nearly a month of my senior year. That is why I finished with my friend, Paul.

I had a little extra time that year and decided to learn to play an instrument. I loved music, in any form, especially classical. Paul played in the school orchestra and the marching band. He had perfect pitch and could write music having never taken a lesson. He had that kind of mind. I wanted to play an instrument. Hopefully, I could learn rather quickly. Mr. Van Pelt, the director of music, showed me several instruments and they looked difficult to learn. I saw a large cabinet that was about half the size of the average closet. I said, “What’s in there?” He said, “Oh, that’s where we store the base violin." When he opened the door I said, “I’ll try that one.”

I had taken regular violin lessons when I was about 7 or 8 years old. I didn’t learn very much because my brother, Charles, would take me to a movie with the lesson money. We had enough money for the movie a sandwich, and street car fair, and perhaps a little left over. We seldom had the violin lesson.

Mr. Van Pelt wrote a few notes on paper and told me to practice them every day, which I did, for about two weeks.

The school had a very fine orchestra, however, the one bass player had graduated that June. I think Mr. Van Pelt started me and my bass, almost immediately because the orchestra just wouldn’t look right without someone standing beside the big bass with bow in hand. In the beginning, I would just play the first note in each measure when possible. The average person is not born with perfect pitch, meaning, they cannot tell when an instrument is sounding the proper note at the proper time. Mr. Van Pelt and my friend, Paul Brown, had perfect pitch. Occasionally, Mr. Van Pelt would say like “The lad on the bass, tighten your G string just a little.”

There I was struggling to read the music and play the proper notes and keep the instrument tuned just right. The most important thing was the bass and bass player. All of that is to say this, I got off to a wobbly start but was soon able to hold my own as a musician, but never aspired to be one of note…pardon the word, “note.”

During our senior year, Paul and I played with some small local groups. Two or three dollars a gig. Our first job paid $.65 per man – that was a percentage job. ha – but guess who came to town – a family of 6 or 7 from Pique, Ohio (pronounced Pickway) including 4 handsome young men, from ages about 19 to 24. John, Harry, Herbert, and Donald Mills and one guitar. The four Mills Brothers. The boys were staying at Chauncey Bennett’s a local young piano player, nicknamed Father Hines, after a famous orchestra leader, Father Hines. His family had a rather large home right on Chapel Street in our neighborhood. The whole neighborhood was abuzz – later the whole city, then the whole nation.

They performed two or three nights a week on WLW radio (4 boys and a guitar) to listen to them you would hear a guitar, a trumpet, a saxophone, and a bass horn. To see them perform, you would see boys and a guitar. The other instrumental sounds were made by the boys.

They were almost an immediate sensation and they were living right in our neighborhood.

A small group of us were invited to Chauncey’s house for a little get-together on a Sunday afternoon. We had met one or two casually, but all four together…We had fun. Chauncey played a couple of numbers on the grand piano. Chauncey’s family was not wealthy, but the piano was important for him. we finally asked the boys if they would do a number for us. they said sure, but the guitar is down the Gross girls’ house. The Gross’ were a family of 5 girls and a widowed father. They went to my church, their father sang in the choir. They were only about one block away. Immediately I said that I would run down and get the guitar. Without hesitation, John took the instrument. He was sitting on the other side of the piano. He checked the strings and was ready. John remained seated, Donald, Herbert and Harry stood up. They sang two or three songs. At least one had the trumpet sound and the saxophone sound. We were thrilled. I probably was not clear on what sounds they made. John, the oldest, was as I said, sitting on the other side of the piano. I sort of raised up to see what he used to make those deep bass sounds one could hear throughout each song. I stood up and all I saw was a guitar. No bass – nothing else. ha – of course, they went on to New York and Hollywood.

I’ve told this story many times. We had a sand lot football game. Donald, the youngest, was the only brother who would join in sports with us. He was closer to our age. At one point in a football game, he was running toward the goal for a touchdown and a tough little short guy named Sheridan was between Donald and the goal. Sheridan hit him head on. Picked him up and Donald came down head first. The ground was more like gravel than grass, like a large playground. Donald took it well, but his face was really -- the only words I can think of is – messed up.

They were scheduled to be on the Sidney Ten-Eyck’s program that night. Donald took it all like a man. He wanted to be like any other l7 or l8 year old kid. That night when Sidney Ten-Eyck introduced them, he said, “The Mills Brothers, 4 boys and a guitar, but Donald looks like he’s been HIT by a run-away freight train. haha

They went on to have a long and successful career.

Unfortunately, John, the oldest and the bass, passed away age 26 while on tour in Europe. He was married to one of the Gross girls, Alice. His father replaced him as bass. When his father passed, they stayed together as a trio. They were a wonderful family and loved by all.

One more important note.

Donald was the only person I know who would buy a pair of shoes and have a brother wear them awhile until they were well broken-in before he would wear them. ha –

Enough.

Next, a few of my musical happenings while in college with my friend, Paul Brown.