Camping In Maine

Hi Bill

You may remember that when Pat and I were living in Philadelphia back in the early to mid-1970s we were good friends with Terry and Walter. I don’t believe you ever met them, but I’m sure you’ve heard Pat and I talk about them. Terry and I worked as caseworkers for the Department of Public Assistance (welfare) and Walter was a librarian at the Free Library of Philadelphia. We were very good friends and had lots of good times together.

Both Terry and Walter liked to travel and one day in May 1973 Terry suggested that Walter, Pat and I join him on a trip to Acadia National Park in Maine. Terry had previously visited Acadia National Park and he loved it. Walter, Pat and I were not campers, but Terry eventually convinced us to make the almost 1,200-mile round-trip drive to experience Acadia.

In 1973 Pat and I had a 1967 Opel Kadett, which was very small and was not very reliable. Terry also had a small car, but I can’t remember the make and model. However, Walter had a fairly new large four-door Buick or Oldsmobile. Therefore his car won the privilege of transporting us to Maine and back.

We all got prepared for the trip and were pumped for it. Terry was especially pumped and he talked about it constantly describing how wonderful the trails and rock-climbing areas were as well as the Atlantic Ocean coastal area and the town of Bar Harbor, Maine. So we all got ourselves prepared for a wonderful trip. However, we later discovered that maybe we were not as well prepared as we thought.

Back then Pat and I had a large, and beautiful, Basset Hound named Jessie. She had that wonderful Basset Hound personality, and she loved people and loved to run and play. Pat and I loved her like the child she was for us back then and we were not going to stick her in a kennel while we played in Acadia National Park. Therefore Terry and Walter agreed that Jessie could play in Acadia with us.

Terry was a proud camper and he convinced us that his large tent would be very comfortable for all five of us, even though Pat, Walter and I (and Jessie) preferred to rent a cottage. Pat and I were not campers and we had no camping gear. We also didn’t want to spend much money on camping gear so we just made do with normal casual clothing and I believe Walter did also. However Terry had plenty of camping equipment, which frightened Pat and I because it seemed like we were preparing for a survival test of some kind.

On departure day, Pat and I (and Jessie) met Walter at Terry’s apartment before dawn with our pathetic camping gear and tried to pack everything into Walter’s car. That turned out to be quite a challenge, but we managed after what seemed to be hours of frustration. Then we packed ourselves into the car – Terry driving, Walter and me in the front seats. The trunk and the back seat were jammed with camping gear and there was only a small space for Pat and Jessie (who was almost as big as Pat) to squeeze into like a couple of sardines. Then, still before dawn, Terry fired up the engine and pointed the car toward Maine for the 9-hour+ drive.

It was a long very uncomfortable drive to Maine. Of course we switched drivers but I don’t remember stopping to get out of the vehicle very much, except when we had to potty (especially Jessie). We also had to take turns holding Jessie in the front seat to give Pat some relief. After what felt like a week of driving, we arrived in Bar Harbor Maine, a very charming tourist town on the Atlantic coast, at about 3 or 4pm.

Pat, Walter, Terry and Jessie - the intrepid campers

Terry drove us straight to Acadia National Park because we had to check in to the campsite that he had reserved for us in a somewhat rugged but pleasant wooded area. Terry was in a frenzy about getting the tent erected and all his gear organized. Unfortunately, Walter, Pat and I were not much help. We always camped in nice hotels and knew nothing about erecting a tent. So we all just stood around watching Terry, carrying things from the car, and holding things for him. The tent was actually very nice and large enough for all four of us and Jessie.

I think we ate supper at our campsite sitting on camp chairs pretending to enjoy the great outdoors. Some of us (all of us except Terry) wanted to eat at a nice restaurant in Bar Harbor, but Terry was eager to introduce us to dining in the wild. We also figured that Jessie did not want to be locked in the car anymore that day. We were all very tired and didn’t mind crashing in our sleeping bags on the floor of the tent fairly early.  

Clark freezing his toes

The next morning Terry rocketed out of his sleeping bag ready to scale the mountain peaks. The rest of us sort of crawled out of ours and staggered to the rustic outhouses and then wanted to go to town for a big breakfast. However, Terry had brought lots of “camping food” and he prepared some kind of crude camping breakfast that we ate instead.

I have to admit that Acadia National Park was indeed a beautiful and very scenic park. It provided many diverse environments for hiking and climbing, including gentle paths to stroll on, more rugged paths that got us breathing more heavily, climbing areas that provided wonderful views of the coast and extreme rock-climbing areas for those brave souls who enjoy more physically and emotionally-challenging (frightening) adventures. We mostly stuck with the walking paths where Jessie could walk with us and protect us from any wildlife if necessary. She really loved being in the wild.

Terry and Jessie with Pat and Walter

Terry (the Great Outdoorsman) wanted to try some rock climbing and we finally gave in to his wishes. We found a rock climbing area that didn’t look too treacherous. We locked Jessie in the car (in a shaded area with the windows slightly open) and proceeded climbing. Terry was gung ho about it. Walter, Pat and I were willing to try climbing over a few reasonably convenient rocks. It was mostly an interesting and enjoyable time for a while. However, Terry left us in his wake and we kept climbing without noticing that the path was disappearing and the rocks were getting more difficult to climb on. The vista was wonderful and just kept getting better the higher we climbed. I think we were mesmerized by the whole experience, especially by the view. However, we suddenly realized that we were climbing a very steep rock cliff and we didn’t have any idea how to climb safely on that cliff. Terry had disappeared above us and Walter had wisely given up below us. Pat had done very well and I was careful to stay with her, but we realized that we had gone rogue and needed to cease and find a way off those steep rocks. It took us a while, but we were able to find a fairly safe way down the rocks without any cliff diving or parachuting without the chute. It was invigorating and we were able to take some very nice photos, but we were also lucky that we didn’t get hurt or require rescue by the Park Rangers.

Pat, Walter, and Terry sitting on the rocks

Pat and Terry enjoying the view

Clark and Pat were we should not have gone

We camped in Acadia for about 4 or 5 days, which also gave us some time to visit Bar Harbor. It was (and probably still is) a very charming little tourist town that we enjoyed. We had a great dinner in a very nice restaurant one evening after we tired of camp dining. We also bought a few souvenirs in Bar Harbor. However, amazingly we spent most of our time relaxing and exploring in the park.

Pat and Jessie enjoying the view from the rocks

Unfortunately the weather decided to rain (pour) on us during our last afternoon and evening in the park. Terry was outside digging trenches around the tent to channel the water away. Proud camper that he was, he insisted that we stay with the tent. However, the rest of us were very cold, tired and hungry. Pat decided that she had had enough. Walter agreed and said he would drive her to some rental cottages outside the park. Pat was also taking the dog. Well, I didn’t want to stay in the rain with a wet Terry when I could be dry and cozy with Pat and Jessie. Terry argued for a while, but finally also agreed to join us. We rented two a very nice small cottages and one had a full kitchen. Terry went out and bought some live lobsters and some other food and we had a very enjoyable, warm and dry evening cooking and enjoying our lobsters.

Hanscomb's Cottages were we took refuge from the rain

The next morning we returned to our campsite, packed up our gear and drove toward home. It was a trip that Pat and I will never forget.

Amazingly, our camping trip did not damage our friendships with Terry and Walter. Also Jessie took the trip without complaining. We had to lock her in the car for short periods of time, but we were very careful to not leave her too long. Walter and Terry both helped take care of her and keep her safe.

It was pleasant to remember that trip and our good friends Terry and Walter while writing this letter.

Bill, you probably don’t remember much of our description of Acadia National Park after we made that trip. Therefore, I am inserting a brief description of the park from its website:

The First Eastern National Park - People have been drawn to the rugged coast of Maine throughout history. Awed by its beauty and diversity, early 20th-century visionaries donated the land that became Acadia National Park. The park is home to many plants and animals, and the tallest mountain on the U.S. Atlantic coast. Today visitors come to Acadia to hike granite peaks, bike historic carriage roads, or relax and enjoy the scenery.

Learn more about the park and see lots of photos at http://www.nps.gov/acad/index.htm.

I hope you and your family are well and happy. I wish we lived closer to each other.

Sincerely Clark

BD and Me

Hi Bill

Today I’m thinking about my good friend BD. I’m pretty sure that you never met BD, but he was (and is) an interesting character.

During my fourth year of college (it took me about 5 years to graduate) I moved out of the apartment that I had shared with three of my friends because I wanted to be able to have some private time. I also needed to lower my rent costs and I found a very inexpensive one-room apartment in another building owned by the same rental company.

I moved into my basement (studio) room, which provided a bed, refrigerator, dresser, and closet. I had to use a shared bathroom in the hallway which serviced other small (studio) rooms. There was no running water in those rooms. Water was available in the bathrooms and the laundry room which was at the beginning of the hallway. A locked door in that hallway also led to a game room with a pool table and stairs up to the larger apartments. My new room was not luxurious, but it worked for me after I bought a hotplate and a small toaster oven.

Shortly after I moved in, I met the guy who lived in the room next to me. His name was BD and he was also a student at Pitt, where he was pursuing a mechanical engineering bachelor’s degree. BD introduced himself to me and then sort of told me how to cope with living in a small studio room with amenities in the hallway. He also showed me the cracks in the wall that I should plug up because he could see into my room and I could see into his. These rooms were newly built in that basement and there were problems that we eventually had to work out.

BD in his kitchen in Fall 1970

BD was from Johnstown PA, which you know is not far from Altoona/Hollidaysburg where we grew up. Therefore BD and I had similar backgrounds and we became friends. I quickly realized that BD was somewhat socially challenged and sort of a loner. However, I (and other tenants) in those basement rooms eventually accepted BD as our friend. Probably the most obvious characteristic that I (and others) recognized about BD was that he was extremely intelligent, which unfortunately did not help his social status. He did not walk around intending to show how extremely intelligent he was, but he just couldn’t prevent his brainiac self from surfacing when he interacted with most people.

BD playing pool in the game room early 1971

I don’t understand why, but his superior intelligence did not bother me, not because I was a braianic (I certainly was not, and am not). However, I was curious and fascinated by, almost anything that I didn’t know much about. Also, I was not intimidated by BD’s knowledge, and I came to know him very well in a fairly short period of time. Almost everyone who lived in those studio rooms were very tolerant and friendly and I believe we all came to know and like BD, even though we had to tolerate his eccentricities sometimes.

BD and I became very good friends and we also became good friends with most of the other people who lived along that basement hallway. One of the great things about living there was the symbiotic group of people. BD and I became good friends with Janice T and her friend Betty, Jorge N (from Venezuela), Robert G (from Jamaica), and others wonderful people. When you share bathrooms you get to know people pretty well.

Jorge was a party animal and he hosted many great parties that we held in the hallway, and in any rooms with open doors. At first BD did not participate in the parties. He was not a big drinker, unlike most of us. However, eventually he participated more often in those parties. Although he certainly liked women, he was not particularly debonair with members of the opposite sex. I remember one party, which BD spent with a woman. They were both drinking and soon they were hugging, kissing and having a very nice time. Those of us who knew BD were surprised and pleased that he was having a good time. The next day we mentioned it to BD and asked him about the woman. He said she was very nice and he enjoyed her company. We asked him if he remembered anything unusual about her and he said no. We tactfully mentioned that she was missing one arm. BD was flabbergasted because he had no recollection of that. I don’t remember whether they ever got together again. Anyway BD was part of that basement life for almost two years. He had good friends there including the love of my life, Pat, who had moved in during my senior year. BD really liked Pat, but I was very happy that she decided to date me.

BD was a very thoughtful and helpful friend. I remember that I brought a car from home during the 1971 fall semester. It was a 1967 red Opal Kadett that my father had bought used a few years earlier. Mom couldn’t drive a stick shift so after Dad died I talked her into letting me use it. I decided to drive it from Pittsburgh to visit you, Bill, just north of Philadelphia. Unfortunately it stalled about thirty miles east of Pittsburgh and I could not get it started. I didn’t have any money, so I just left it by the roadside and hitched my way back to The Burgh. BD was surprised to see me back in my room. I told him what happened and he took a bus to somewhere near where I abandoned the car, got it started, and drove it back me. BD was a very good mechanic.

BD took me to his family’s house near Johnstown a couple of times where I met his parents and sister. His older brother had already moved out of the house and eventually became very successful in Silicon Valley. BD’s family were very nice people and they lived in a wonderful home on a large wooded lot. Those were fun visits.

BD and I stayed in that basement for almost two years. However, for some reason that I don’t remember BD moved to a different room down the hallway. His new room had no windows. We often referred to it as the cave. I suppose it was slightly cheaper than the other windowed rooms. Later, I think he tired of the cave and we decided that he could move into my room for a small fee. He used 2x4s to construct a bunk bed over the existing bed in my room. He slept on top and I slept on the bottom bed. Of course he had to move some of his possessions into my room also. It was extremely crowded and that led to some friction between us, especially when I wanted to entertain in my room. Unfortunately, one of the building maintenance workers discovered the bunk bed and told us that it had to go immediately. He cited one of the building codes and informed us that it was not legal and we would both be evicted if BD didn’t get out of my room soon. We tore down his bunk bed and he moved to a very rundown apartment in a rough neighborhood in the Bloomfield area of The Burgh, where he feared for his life at times, but survived. However we remained good friends and BD visited us basement tenants often.

After I finally finished my Bachelor’s degree, I moved to Philadelphia during the summer of 1972. Then in September I married Pat at the Lutheran University Center in Pittsburgh near the Pitt campus. BD would have been my best man, but after he had graduated he had joined the Peace Corp and was building irrigation systems in Kenya.

BD and I continued our friendship after he returned from the Peace Corp. He went back to school at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh and he earned a Master’s degree and became a Physics teacher somewhere in North Carolina – I’m not sure about the location. Unfortunately, BD’s high expectations for his students exceeded their abilities and/or their desires to meet those expectations. He quit that job and moved around to several other teaching positions, but his students could never meet his expectations. Eventually he went back to Pittsburgh and worked with an investment advisor to develop an investment computer program that made them both fairly wealthy. However, their partnership did not last.

I remember Pat and I met him in Pittsburgh when we were there to visit Pat’s parents. We went downtown to a movie with him that night. When we were walking in a downtown area after the movie we didn’t feel very safe. However, BD showed us the revolver that he carried with him everywhere and told us not to worry. That was a surprise, but we did feel a little safer. One other time he visited us when we were at Pat’s parent’s house in the Pittsburgh area. We then went to dinner with him and our kids. It was a fun evening.

BD and me at Pat's parent's house
in West Mifflin PA , near Christmas, early 1990s

BD and me
Pat, Rayna, and Zeb
At Pat's parent's house near Christmas, early 1990s

BD has moved through several jobs in several states. He has had some good times and tough times over the years, but he has kept in touch with Pat and me. He visited us when we lived in Philadelphia, when we lived in Omaha a couple of times, and when we lived in Cincinnati. Unfortunately, he has never visited us since we moved to South Dakota in 1983. We have tried to get together but have not been about connect yet.

I am very happy to say that BD finally found a compatible and enjoyable job working in a prison in California. No, he is not a guard. However, he does interact with prisoners, because he manages the activities and equipment that are part of the rehabilitation process. He has been doing that at the same prison for over ten years. He earns a good salary and has good benefits, including a pension. He has also been a longtime active member of Mensa International (the high IQ society), which enables him to exercise his high IQ with other brainiacs.  He intends to remain in California and to keep doing what he does for as long as possible. I hope that turns out to be a long, long time.

Now, I think I will give him a call just to say “Hi” and gab about what’s happening in our lives.

Bill, I wish BD and Pat and I lived closer to each other. I also very much wish Pat and I lived closer to you. However, for some very strange reason South Dakota seems to be our “Home on the Range” and we have no plans to leave.

I hope you and your family had a wonderful Christmas and have a Happy New Year.

Sincerely Clark

A Random Act of Kindness

Today I am happy to present my favorite guest blogger: Pat Hallman

A Random Act of Kindness

The holiday season!  This is the time of year when you hear of people giving to others in random acts of kindness.  Well, we received one and I just needed to share the story.

I’m opening up the blinds in our library/den where the landline phone is kept and the phone rings.  Now, we screen calls on the landline because that number attracts all the callers for insurance, the newspaper and just about anyone selling anything.  The answering machine picks up and I hear “Hi, my name is Bill and I’m looking for Zeb.  I found his class ring at a farm auction and wanted to know if you know him and whether he is missing a class ring?”  Bill begins to leave his phone number and I grab for the phone -  hello, hello.  “Hi”, he says, “Do you know Zeb?”   Yes, he is my son.  “Did he lose his class ring?”  Yes, he did many years ago.  Bill responded, “Well, I went to a farm auction in Colman and it was very muddy.  As I was walking through the farmyard I was looking down to make sure I didn’t slip in the mud.  I spotted a shiny round thing and thought it was a washer or nut and slipped it on my finger and into my pocket.  Didn’t think anything of it.  When I got home and looked at it, I realized it was a class ring.  The name Zeb was on the side of the ring and it was from Sioux Valley HS.  My wife noticed the engraving inside for Zeb Hallman, and we thought we would try and find him.”  I answered - How in the world did you find us from that?  “Well, my wife is good on the Internet - isn’t that the darndest thing?”  Yes, it is!  Bill continued to explain, “She found Zeb’s Facebook page and sent him a message but never heard back.  So, we saw on Facebook that his relatives were Clark and Pat and she did a search for you.  We found your phone number and called to see if you want the ring back.”  Yes, we do!

By this time, I am just stunned.  I don’t know what to make of this and Bill told me that the ring was in excellent condition.  He described the ring and what I could remember of it sounded right.  We exchanged phone numbers and I told Bill that I would get back to him and arrange a time to go out to his farm and retrieve the ring.

Now, for some background information, I texted Zeb that his ring was found and he called me back in disbelief.  Zeb bought the ring in his sophomore year of high school (I had long ago forgotten all this).  The school had the students buy early so they could wear their rings all through high school – school pride and all.  But, Zeb had his ring for one week when he lost it.  He had told us that he lost the ring while swimming with some of the guys at a pond or swimming hole on someone’s farm.  But now we got the truth.  He was partying (yes, drinking beer underage) at a farm in Colman.  At the time, he had been dating a girl, Sarah, from Colman and the farm were the party took place was her friend’s home.  Zeb knew he had lost it there back in 1998, he looked everywhere for it that night, and told his friends if it ever turned up to get in touch with him so he could have it back.  Now, 17 years later, the ring appears!  This story is beginning to seem like a “Lord of the Rings” episode! – my precious! – but I digress.

I called Bill back and arranged a time to meet and he provided directions out to his farm to pick up the ring.  Clark and I drove out there on the same day as the call, that afternoon.  The weather was beautiful, sun shining and I was really anxious to see this ring!  I still could not believe this was happening.  We found the farm and met Bill and his wife Jackie.  Such very nice people.  And sure enough, they had Zeb’s ring.  We talked about how Zeb was dating the Colman girl, how he was at a party (Bill guessed this!) and how he had lost the ring.  We also talked that the ring had been buried in the mud/dirt for 17 years.  How it was found in the farmyard by the driveway where cars, trucks and all kinds of farm machinery had driven over it through the years.  And yet, the ring is perfect. No wear or tear and the stone is not chipped or anything!  Amazing!  Bill found it and he and his wife did the kindest thing possible.  He and Jackie decided to find us (Zeb) and return the ring.  Zeb said to offer them a reward and we did but they turned us down.  Bill said he didn’t do this for a reward and Jackie said that she viewed this as a mystery, an adventure, to try and solve.  We said our “thank you’s” and Merry Christmas.  Jackie asked if Zeb would be home for the holidays and to give him this as a Christmas gift.  I told her he was not coming home due to work but we would make a trip because he had to get this ring.

I have to say I am still reeling over this. I keep looking at that ring, and the enormous kindness of these strangers.  Zeb has said he didn’t get to wear the ring much back in high school but he intends to wear it now.  When I told our daughter about this adventure, she stated “Only in South Dakota are people so nice and kind to do something like this.”  I think she is right, and that’s why we enjoy living here so much.  May a random act of kindness come your way soon OR please pass one on like Bill and Jackie!

Grandpap's Swimming Hole

Hi Bill

Today I was thinking about the property that Grandfather Hallman “Grandpap” owned in Clearfield County. No doubt, you remember that he had some relatives and friends near Curwensville in Clearfield County, PA, which was 45 miles north of Altoona on the West Branch of the Susquehanna River. During the early 20th century, coal mining, tanning, and the manufacture of fire bricks provided employment in that area. Some of his relatives and friends worked in the coal mines, which was an extremely dirty, exhausting, and dangerous job. They were strong, loyal and hard workers. However, you could recognize a retired coal miner when you saw how sick and crippled they were. They were good people, and Grandpap kept in touch with some of them and would drive up to that area to visit them every once in a while. It wasn’t a long drive, but back then the highways and local roads were not as efficient as they are today. Anyway Grandpap visited them fairly often and sometimes my parents, you, and I would accompany him. 

Grandpap William S. Hallman and me

I’m sure you remember that Grandpap especially visited Pauline and Cleo and their son Eddie, who was a few years older than me. They lived in a large farmhouse on a large piece of ground with some beautiful old and huge trees. While Pap (as my father referred to Grandpap) and our parents visited with Pauline and Cleo, you and I would hang around with Eddie, and we would climb trees, throw a ball around and generally act like bored idiots. At least you and Eddie were bored. I was usually too stupid to be bored and was often fascinated by some bug and stone that I spotted. Actually, that still happens to me.

For me, the best part of those trips came when Grandpap drove us to the nearby land that he owned in the country. Somehow he inherited, or maybe he purchased, that land in the country in the Curwensville area. It was a large area of wilderness, which included woods, weeds, water and wildlife. My recollection is that a river ran through that property and there was a wonderful area within the property where the river filled a pond surrounded by large trees, weeds, poison ivy, critters and bugs that were there to fascinate little biped critters like me. Yes, I loved to run among the insects, four-legged creatures, snakes and infectious plants. At least I loved it until the insect bites, scratches, cuts and poison ivy became too painful or itchy to tolerate. Or until I irritated some four-legged furry critter that didn’t want me on their turf. Then I would come running to you, Grandpap or Dad for protection and/or treatment.

While the wildlife was exciting, nothing could beat the water. We always had our swim trunks on under our clothing when we went to Grandpap’s wildland, and the swimming was great fun. When I was little you or Dad or Grandpap would chaperone me to make sure I stayed in the shallow areas of the pond. However, you always kept me happy in that area by splashing around with me. Of course, you also were able to frolic in the deeper area near where the river left the pond to continue its journey to wherever it went. That pond area had some large trees on its banks and there were some ropes tied to branches above the water that you used to swing over the water and then plummet into it with huge splashes. I wasn’t allowed to do that (and probably wouldn’t have been able to get to the rope anyway) when I was young. However, I remember as I grew a few years older I was able to jump off the riverbank into a little deeper area. Those trips to the “Swimming Hole” were great fun. 

Unfortunately, we didn’t make that trip very often. Dad and Mom both had jobs and they could not take the time off to go to Clearfield County very often, and Mom was never thrilled to go to the “Swimming Hole” anyway. I do remember that Grandpap took us in his 1952 Oldsmobile sometimes, but not very often. I also remember Pauline, Cleo and Eddie visiting our parents once or twice, but we had no “Swimming Hole.”  

Grandpap, me and Timmy

Years after those trips to the “Swimming Hole,” when I was in Junior High, Grandpap wanted to visit his property in Clearfield County again. We hadn’t made that trip for several years and he was getting older then and I reckon he knew that his travelin’ time was running out. Therefore he decided to make another trip to his river property. I seem to remember that Dad and Mom were not happy about him making that trip. They did not want him to do it by himself and neither of them wanted to take time off work to make that trip. I’m fairly sure that you made that trip with Grandpap and me. You were driving then and you probably helped as a driver. In addition, I decided to invite one of my friends along on that trip. Unfortunately, I can’t quite remember which friend I invited, but I think it might have been Frank A, although I can’t be sure. Anyway, I told him about the “Swimming Hole” and how much fun it was and he decided to join us. We had our swim trunks on and were eager to act like idiots in the pond when we got there. However, when we arrived, we did not see a river. Instead we saw a very small and shallow creek that wondered through the weed covered ground. We looked everywhere for the pond but found only a mud hole with a few inches of water in it, or maybe a foot of water in some areas. I was quite distressed. Where was our river? Where was our deep pond swimming hole? Where was the large tree that enabled us to swing over the pond and plummet to the water? 

I don’t know if those vivid memories of the river, the deep pond, and swinging over the pond from the tree were accurate or not. Maybe the river, and pond, dried up during the years before our last visit there. Or maybe my recollections were informed by my very young vision and very active imagination. Anyway, poor Frank (or whomever endured that boring drive to Clearfield County to frolic in the mud hole) was very disappointed and irritated. 

I’m sure you remember that Grandpap eventually sold the land that he owned in Clearfield County. However, he retained the mineral rights to that property, which provided small gas royalties to him for many years. He was a very wise man and a great grandfather. 

Grandpap on our Farmall Cub Tractor

Did you make the final trip to Clearfield County with us, Bill? I can’t remember for sure. Please let me know your memories of those trips to the “Swimming Hole.” 

I hope you and your family are well and happy. 

Take care. 

Sincerely Clark

Get A Job!

Hi Bill

Today I have been thinking about the jobs that I had while I was in high school and college. As you know, when I was in high school Dad had some severe health problems and had to retire on disability. That meant that our parents did not have much extra money for me to throw around. Therefore, I had to find work to pay for gas, movies, restaurant food, etc. Today I was trying to remember some of the jobs that I worked, or tried to work during high school and college. Thinking of them made me realize that I wasn’t always a very good employee when I was young.

My HS Senior Photo

Less than successful job experiences:

Gas Station: I got a part time evening job at Frank Rabit’s (or Rabitts or Rabbits- I can’t remember how he spelled his name) gas station (Esso) and service/repair shop in Altoona. Dad knew Frank very well and also knew most of the employees, including Eddie, who was a very good friend of yours. I took the job because I needed the money, even though I didn’t know squat about automobiles and their mechanical problems. Working evenings at a gas station during the winter was not fun, especially back in the days when there were no self-service pumps. I quickly learned to use the gas pumps and how to check the oil (which was important back then), and check the tires, etc. However, beyond that I was inept. Early in the job I was “helping” change the oil of a car and I opened the drain for the transmission fluid instead of the oil. Luckily one of the other guys saw what I did and quickly closed the drain while bitching me out about how expensive transmission fluid was. I also remember accompanying guys who luckily knew what they were doing on road service calls. One night, when it was very cold (like freezing), I went on a service call that required lying on the ground under the car trying to help do something that I didn’t know anything about and didn’t care to learn about. I really did not fit in the auto repair business and I did not last long at the service station.

Sandwich Shop: I landed a job at a small restaurant/sandwich shop on Logan Boulevard in Altoona for a short time. I don’t remember much about it because I was sort of there for the blink of an eye and then gone. All I remember about it is that I worked evenings until closing (maybe at 10pm or 11pm) and my duties included washing and cleaning. That’s all I remember, washing and cleaning and grease everywhere - all over me, and everything in the place. I quickly decided that I never wanted to eat anything in that place and warned my friends and family to enjoy their repast elsewhere. Obviously Clark must have been prissy back then. Anyway, it was another short employment experience until I slid right out the door on the grease.

Knitting Mill: I also landed a job at the Puritan Sportswear Knitting Mill in Altoona. My good friend Frank A’s father was a honcho there and Frank somehow convinced him to take a chance on me, which didn’t pay off for him in the end. I worked full-time evenings until midnight and that really messed up my social life, which was the reason I wanted a job, i.e., so I would have money for a social life. I quickly realized that problem, but I was determined to stick with this job. Of course that didn’t happen either because I discovered that I was a pathetic knitter. I had to keep three or four big knitting machines operating continuously feeding out flawless sweater material. Well Clark was not even close to flawless on the knitting machines (or anything else). I probably ruined a mountain of sweater material/fabric (or whatever it is called). I couldn’t seem to figure out how to do it properly. I quit after a few weeks as my boss was about to kick my ass out of the building.

Puritan Knitting Mill Logo

Puritan Sportswear

Okay, believe it or not, I eventually landed some jobs that I could handle fairly well, and that I actually enjoyed:

Rivoli Theater: One of my favorite jobs during my high school years was working as an usher at the Rivoli Theater on Logan Boulevard in Altoona. My good friend Frank had gotten a job there and told me about it. So I quickly applied and was lucky to get hired. The theater furnished us with black tuxedos and one of our most important duties was to help ticket holders find seats. We had to be especially helpful to older people and/or people with disabilities. In addition, when the more popular movies were showing, the theater would become extremely full and we had to quickly find seats for viewers and even ask people who were already seated to move a seat or a few seats within their row to fill empty seats and make room for others. In addition, we had flashlights to help late arrivers find seats after the movie had begun. We also changed the marquee when the movie changed. In addition, we got to hang out in the projection booth sometimes. It was a fun place to work. The other employees were great to work with and we got to see many great movies, including Doctor Zhivago, Thunderball and others. We could almost recite the dialogue word for word from many of the movies that were shown while we worked there. Another perk from this job came from Francis S who was an older gentleman (in his late 50s or early 60s) who was a ticket taker among other duties. We liked to BS with him and we got to know him well. I should be ashamed to admit that he was our liquor supplier. Of course, we gave him extra money for that service and we somehow survived lots of good times. I’m not proud of that now, but back then it was a great thing and sort of prepared me for my future college life.

Rivoli Theater 

Demolishing the Rivoli Theater 1980

Holiday Inn: My friend Bob M helped me get a job at the Holiday Inn in Altoona for a summer. His Mom was in charge of the restaurant and she hired me as a busboy. I have good memories about that job, which involved bussing tables, delivering room service and miscellaneous other duties. They taught me how to create fancy napkin displays for the table settings and how to refill water glasses and lots of other important stuff that didn’t seem too serious to me at the time. However, I enjoyed working there and was grateful for that job. I was not the brightest bulb back then. (I’m still not a very bright bulb and I am becoming even dimmer as time goes by.) Anyway, I made some stupid mistakes including one unfortunate room service delivery early in that job. I was told to take a room service order to a certain room on an upper floor. Of course I eagerly agreed and carefully carried the order to the correct room. However, for some reason I just used the room key to open the door and walked in with the tray. The couple in the room were very surprised and displeased to see me just open the door and walk into the room instead of knocking. I too was shocked and embarrassed and apologized profusely. I thought I would get fired when that happened, but Mrs. M was too nice. She warned me to never enter another room again without knocking and announcing room service. I came to like that job very much, mostly because of the people I worked with, and I stayed for a whole summer.

Weis Supermarket: I landed a job at a Weis Supermarket in Altoona during the summer after my first year of college. Amazingly, it was a full-time job which I held until I returned to Pitt in September. I was the guy who stocked the soap and detergent aisle. I did the ordering and stocking of the products in that aisle and I loved the job. At first it was a little rocky. I didn’t know how to calculate how much product to order and I ordered way too much of some products (especially for my first order) and not enough of others. When we were unloading the truck with my first order on it, I got bitched out big time because it was difficult to find space in the storage room for all the Tide and Cheer etc. that I ordered. The objective was to order just enough to keep the shelves in my aisle filled until the next truck arrived. I soon learned how to order more precisely and how to keep my aisle looking full and inviting. We all had to help unload the huge semi-trailers when they arrived and most of us enjoyed that very much. One person would be in the trailer throwing the boxes on the rollers and the other guys would be on either side of the rollers that extended into the storeroom. It was always a competition with the guy in the truck trying to overwhelm the guys on the receiving end of the rollers. I especially enjoyed working in the trucks. I was young, competitive and liked the challenge. I also worked the cash registers occasionally when needed and there were no price scanners back then. I worked at that Weis store for two summers and enjoyed it very much.

Heinz Hall: I also worked as an usher at Heinz Hall in Pittsburgh when I was an undergraduate. If you are interested, you can read more about that job in my blog post: “My Evening With Charlton Heston” published on April 29, 2015.

I’m sure you have read enough about my jobs back in the day. However, I just remembered that I occasionally delivered newspapers for my good friend Pat H when he was out of town or otherwise unable to make the deliveries. That’s it!

Bill, I’m amazed when I think about all the experiences (good and bad) that we have gone through. Some of them I wish I could undo, but they all contributed to a great life so far. I’m sure you had some interesting jobs when you were in high school and college, and I would be interested to hear about them.

Take care Bill.

Sincerely, Clark

Glory Days in a Young Man’s Life

Hi Bill

Today I am thinking about my first year of college at the University of Pittsburgh.

In July 1967 the parents drove me to the Oakland neighborhood of Pittsburgh and dropped me off for my three-day (I think) summer orientation program at the University of Pittsburgh. I don’t remember being particularly nervous about it. In fact I believe I was eager to attend. I remember Dad driving into the parking garage below the twenty-something-floor cylindrical dormitories. Mom and Dad helped me get checked in and find my room which provided a great view of the neighborhood and part of the campus. Our parents stayed only a short time before reluctantly leaving for home. I know they were worried about leaving me there and they were facing the reality that I would be leaving home in September.

Clark in late summer 1967
Eager to begin college at Pitt

Honestly, I was glad to be there and I looked forward to learning more about Pitt during the next few days. My orientation roommate, Joe H, eventually showed up a few hours later. He was a very interesting guy who lived only a few blocks away from campus on (believe it or not) a street that was the same as his last name. I also met other newbies, including Pat B, Charlie H and many others, some who became good friends as we progressed through our university lives. Between all the organized meetings and activities, I was able to explore some of the city neighborhood near campus with my orientation comrades.

I was happy when our parents drove me, in a station wagon full of my essential belongings, to campus in September. They helped move my possessions into room 1104 on the eleventh floor of Tower A, which would be my home for two years. Then I encouraged them to hit the road back to “Homeville” as soon as possible. I was eager to embrace my college life.

I had been informed about my assigned roommate, Richard H, but we had not had any contact and he didn’t show up until the wee hours of the morning. I awakened when he came in and we talked for only a very short time. Richard was from the Pittsburgh area and his father was a doctor. Therefore he and I did not particularly have much in common. However, it only took a short time before we became good friends. In addition, Richard’s twin brother, Jim, was also in Tower A, but up on the 21^st floor. The three of us became and remained good friends throughout our college careers.

Richard H (my roommate).
He always studied with his shirt over his head,

Jim H, my roommate's brother

The beginning of my college career was pretty much what I expected it to be. It took some effort to find my classrooms on the large city campus. I was amazed by the huge sizes of some of the lecture halls. Finding and buying the correct textbooks and supplies at the bookstore was tedious and very expensive. I quickly found friends that I met regularly for meals in the cafeteria on the lower level of the dorms, and unlike most of them, I was amazed at how much I loved the cafeteria food. I really chowed down. It wasn’t Mom’s cooking, but there was plenty of it and I enjoyed it.

The view out my dorm window:
Hillman Library and wonderful  Forbes Field

Of course I got to know everyone on the 11^th floor of Tower A. Amazingly, almost all of them turned out to be good guys and some of them liked to party (believe it or not). That reminds me of an unfortunate celebration in my room one weekend early in my college career. My friend Trevor somehow got some hard cider and a few of our friends (except Richard who had gone home for the weekend) gathered for a party in my room on Saturday evening. We had a great time, but the party could be heard all over the 11^th floor and the consequences were not fun. Our “House Monitor” (alias Rat) found out about the party, which precipitated several interrogations with me. I was probably not interested in what he had to say and he threatened to drag me through the campus judicial system, which could have kicked me out of school for having an underage drunken party in my room. We didn’t like each other anyway because I wasn’t interested in his fraternity (sorry Bill, I know you were a frat man) and it was touch and go for a while. That did not stop me from partying but it did entice me to be more careful about who was invited and about keeping the noise down a little. Eventually we moved the parties to off campus apartments.

The infamous party: I am the one with the shades and the booze

Football games were also a blast, even though our team was certainly not championship caliber. We trudged up the hill to the old Pitt Stadium with enough liquor to create a party in the seats and make it very hard for us to walk back down the hill. Mostly we just fell down and rolled down the hill. Amazingly we never encountered any interference from the campus judicial system. Basketball games were also fun but I don’t believe alcohol enhanced our pleasure as much during them.

That freshman year was a blast and I loved mostly every minute of it. Amazingly, I was able to perform well in my classes and finished that year with a 3-point-something GPA. However, it also included some unique trauma like the swimming classes I had to endure in a mandatory physical education class. I could swim well enough, but my swimming coaches demanded a higher level of perfection than my doggy paddle. They also insisted on teaching us lifesaving techniques including what seemed like hours of bobbing and diving (or jumping) off of the highest-level of a multi-platform dive tower. Bobbing for seemingly hours was torture. Surface and Inhale, Sink and Exhale! Surface and Inhale, Sink and Exhale!... Figuring out how to breathe wasn’t too difficult, but forcing my exhausted arms and legs to keep kicking and pulling was very challenging. I mean, we were not actually in danger of drowning. Bobbing was bad enough, but jumping off the platform dive in the clouds without a parachute was just completely ridiculous, and I said “Hell No I Won’t Go.” I jumped off the lowest platform and took a lower grade in that class. Hey, my homies and I had been splashing around the lake at the state park near “Homeville” for many years and we didn’t drown. We jumped out of canoes and row boats and whatever, and I didn’t attend college to kill myself jumping off a man-made cliff in a physical education class. Clark doesn’t like heights.

Charlie H (Herbie) sitting on my dorm bed in front of  my bulletin board 

Getting to know Pittsburgh was also a fun process and having friends who grew up there helped me find my way to wherever I wanted to go. Of course, we Pitt students thought we owned the Oakland neighborhood around the Pitt campus. However, my friends and I also got to know the Shadyside area where the “Hippies” hung out and the shops were expensive. I also learned to “squeeze” onto public-transit to visit downtown and other areas.

Scott M (a high school classmate) attended Carnegie Mellon University a few blocks from the Pitt campus and we got together a few times, which was nice. However, we had each embraced a new group of friends and the ambiance of CMU was radically different than Pitt’s. I also occasionally saw my good friend from elementary through high school, Duane L, who was attending Community College of Allegheny County and worked at a Sears Automotive shop on the North Side of “The Burgh.” He had a car and I occasionally rode back to “Homeville” with him for some weekends and holidays. During one late-night trip back to “The Burgh,” his car broke down on a very dark and lonely road. Luckily, he was mechanically adept and was able to get us moving again, but not before we were hassled by some local juvenile thugs - not fun but we survived.

Duane L before a late night trip back to The Burgh

I had a wonderful time during my freshman year at Pitt. That campus, and the city of Pittsburgh, became my home and figured I would stay there forever. I even stayed there for part of the summer after my freshman year to get another required class (or maybe two classes) out of the way. I had to move out of my room on the 11^th floor of Tower A and into a room on the 17^th floor of Tower B. That floor was populated with many Pitt football players and my temporary roommate (Paul N, who I believe was a linebacker or lineman – a big guy) was one of them. I will never forget that wild dormitory experience. Those football players terrorized us poor normal (nerdy) guys. It really was an endurance test. However, my roommate and some of his friends protected me. I have to admit that it was funny to see what they did to some unprotected guys. I had a great time living with Paul and hanging with him and his friends including Larry W. who became a good friend of mine.

Larry W on top, Richard H (my roommate) on bottom

Eventually I went home for a month or so that summer feeling very good because I had survived my first year at Pitt. It was also nice to have some home time with the parents and hang with my “Homeville” friends. However, I was eager to return to Pitt after my short summer break.

Clark early freshman year

Richard clipped this, added the comment at the top, and posted
it on the bulletin board behind my bed. I kept it there
all freshman year and reposted it sophmore year.

Bill, I know you also had wonderful college years and I would love to hear about them.

Take care.

Sincerely Clark

Family, Music and Pool

Hi Bill

When I started thinking about writing to you this week, I was reminded that Pat and I do some very strange things that I’m not sure many other people would do. However, we are who we are, and we accept who we are. Anyway, last week was a very busy week that took me to Fargo twice, Pat and Rayna each to Fargo once, and brought Zeb back to South Dakota for a week.

On Friday October 23^rd Rayna and I drove to Fargo to attend the Fargo Record Fair on Saturday with Zeb who (you probably remember) lives in Fargo. When we arrived it was around 5pm and I checked into a Holiday Inn Express near West Acres Mall. Zeb had to work until 8pm so Rayna and I went to Schlotzsky’s, one of my favorite fast-food sandwich/pizza places. Then we walked around the Fargo Mall for a while before going back to my hotel room. Unfortunately I was sick with a cold and didn’t feel like doing much. Therefore we waited in the hotel room until Zeb got off work at 8pm and arrived at the hotel. After a short visit in my hotel room, Zeb and Rayna left, and Rayna stayed at his apartment for the night. I crashed in my hotel room and tried to breathe through all the gunk in my nose and throat. It was a long night.

However, I was up early on Saturday morning and ready to go vinyl hunting at the Fargo Record Fair. Although I still didn’t feel well, nothing was going to prevent me from the vinyl treasure hunt. I had a big breakfast in the hotel, as I always do at hotels. Then waited until Zeb and Rayna picked me up. The vinyl fair had been moved to a larger venue near the airport, but Zeb was able to find it easily. There were lots of cars and a big crowd of people that we joined inside the venue after we paid our bargain $3 entrance fee. Then the fun began.

Fargo Record Fair promotional photo

Fargo Record Fair promotional photo

It’s hard to describe our attraction for acquiring great (subjectively speaking) music for a cheap price.  Even though the drive to Fargo and my hotel room cost much more than I saved by buying vinyl records at mostly cheap prices at the event, the fair was still a great experience. The huge crowd of hopeful and devoted vinyl fans, the camaraderie and conversations with fellow vinyl hunters, and discovering unexpected and wonderful music proved to be very fulfilling. It was delightful to flip through thousands of vinyl albums, with hundreds of other vinyl devotees, trying to find some great music to enhance my collection. We spent a couple of hours at the fair and I ended up with 10 vinyl albums new to my collection. Of course, there were some titles on my desiderata that I could not find. However, I discovered (and acquired) several titles that I hadn’t even thought of while compiling my list. Rayna and Zeb also had a very enjoyable and productive experience at the record fair and we plan to make it an annual event for us.

Rayna and I about to begin the vinyl hunt

Zeb and Rayna beginning the hunt

Vinyl Prospectors

Vinyl Prospectors

Vinyl Prospectors

After the fair we ate a late lunch/early supper and then left for Sioux Falls with Zeb. He used vacation leave from work to visit us, staying with Pat and I. He had visited us for a couple of days a month or so ago, but this time he stayed with for a week. Rayna also took a few days off work to spend some extra time with Zeb, Pat and I. It turned out to be a wonderful week for our family.

Pat and I were very happy to have the entire family back in the area for a week. Zeb spent lots of time with Rayna out and about in Sioux Falls. Of course, Pat and I joined them at times. We also got together to watch some movies on DVD and in the theater. In addition, we continued our hunt for vinyl music in Sioux Falls at I-29 Antiques, Last Stop CD Shop, Ernie November, and Total Drag. We all bought mostly used vinyl, which is my preference (it’s good for the budget). Of course we also ate out a few times in Sioux Falls. Perhaps my favorite times were late at night, when Pat, Zeb and I talked and listened to music, while Zeb and I played pool in our family room until about 1-2am. It was a great week.

Although all good things come to an end, Pat and I decided to extend the visit by accompanying Zeb back to Fargo. We actually like Fargo very much (strange but true). Therefore we drove to Fargo with Zeb and spent some time at the Holiday Inn Express (again). We enjoyed visiting Zeb’s apartment and checking out some of our favorite Fargo eateries and retail establishments together. It was great to spend more time just hanging out together, and amazingly we didn’t detect any frustrations between us (although that could have been everyone working hard to maintain good behavior). We ended our visit with our traditional brunch at a restaurant before leaving town.

It always makes me sad when our visits with Zeb end, because I don’t know how long it will be until we see him again. However, we are very proud of him and Rayna. They have grown into two wonderful and responsible adults.

Please give our love to your family and take care.

Me wearing my Fargo Record Fair shirt

Sincerely

Clark