The Beginning

by Ed Nelson

  “Look at the pansy, he is afraid to get hit,” came from Tom.

  They kept this up for a while but since I didn’t respond it went nowhere.

  I walked home and finished up what little work I had to do on tomorrow’s lessons. Kate Smith had just sung “God Bless America” when the newspaper arrived. I skipped the Mickey Mouse Club on TV to read the story. It was exactly the same as the copy that Mr. Weaver had given us, so I hadn’t any complaints.

  About five minutes later the phone started ringing. It rang all evening. All my relatives wanted to talk to my parents to see if the story was true. The story started with my stopping the bank robbery by killing two men.

  It then continued with my rodeo career. Mr. Weaver took things out of sequence as he went from my third rodeo win to the National Championships.

  My Mum and Dad would take turns answering the phone. About seven o’clock the front door opened and in staggered my Uncle Wally. He was drunk as usual when he was home.

  His job as a union organizer would have him all over the country. He would get a job inside a factory and get the workers all riled up so they would vote for the union. I didn’t care for him.

  Wally wanted to borrow money as he figured that my parents had control of the reward money. He had a scheme to buy stock in an oil well which would make us all rich. Mum asked him to leave. He kept talking and talking. She finally picked up a broom and chased him out of the house. Mum wields a mean broom!

  Dad was lucky. He was on the phone the whole time so he didn’t get dragged into it. We kids were watching out the window as Mum chased him to the car hitting him about every other swing.

  By this time Wally had quit talking except to say, “No Peg, Please Peg. Quit it Peg.”

  Wally was able to get in his car and drive away. Mum was waving her broom in a Victory dance as the neighbors looked on. I bet they wondered about us.

  The next morning I met Tom Morton and Bill Cairns in what had become our routine walk to school.

  Tom asked me, “Did you really kill two men?”

  “I did.”

  “That must have been terrible.”

  “It was.”

  Bill Cairns wanted to know about the reward money and did I have it.

  “Bill, go down to see our old house on North Detroit Street and look at this. You will see where the money went.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Well it wasn’t all the money. I was allowed to keep some to spend this year.”

  I wasn’t about to tell them I had nine hundred dollars. Seeing my Uncle Wally in action had taught me a lesson on how people try to get your money. I wondered if Mum would let me borrow her broom.

  When Eleanor came out she didn’t take her usual place in front of us, sigh. She joined us and started asking questions about the story. This set a pattern for the day. Every guy I talked to wanted to know about the bank robbery, killing people and the reward.

  Girls focused on the rodeo for some reason. The conversation would start with bull riding but very quickly go to Western fashions.

  What did the girls wear out west? Was it like they saw on TV and in the Movies? I was able to tell them the fancy Western dress was for special occasions, that most of the time the girls wore the same clothes as they did.

  Actually I had no idea what they wore when, but saw they wanted some sort of answer and wouldn’t give up till I came up with one.

  This went on between every class and lunch all day long. I walked down to Wilcox’s grocery to avoid the cafeteria but still ran into many questions.

  The only question that got my attention was Mr. Hurley’s. He took me aside in study hall and asked, “Ricky, are you having any flashbacks to the robbery?”

  “No Sir, my Dad went over this with me, and I appear to be okay. The events seem to be further away and more remote every day. I just remember it in general terms now. Not every second and I haven’t had any dreams about it.”

  “That’s right your Dad was in the Army, he would know. I just wanted to make certain you were all right.”

  “Thank you for your interest, it is appreciated.”

  I wondered how Mr. Hurley knew about flashbacks. For a moment I thought of the front door dropping open on a landing craft. I gave a small shudder.

  Mr. Hurley noticed and asked again, “Are you certain you haven’t any issues.”

  “No Sir, I recently heard about Bill Samson and what he went thru during the war. Knowing what he went through makes what I did seem like nothing.”

  Mr. Hurley smiled as he said, “You’ve learned one of life’s lessons, no matter how hard, how bad. Someone else has had it worse. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt and glanced down at his bare arm as he said this. He had some numbers tattooed there. I hadn’t any idea what they meant.

  Chapter 16

  After school, since I didn’t have football practice, I went straight home. After shooting hoops with Denny and Eddie, and helping Mary with the Hula Hoop, we all marched in to see the Mickey Mouse Club. Spin and Marty were on, but I wasn’t in it yet.

  Shortly after the show was over, the paper arrived with part two of my story. Again it was the same as Mr. Weaver’s advance copy. It was really weird when I read about being in the Mickey Mouse segments, two different films with John Wayne plus bailing Elvis out of jail.

  Mum and Dad got home about that time. They had been grocery shopping, picking up hot dogs, hamburger and all the buns plus soft drinks. They told me to answer the phone and just invite whoever called over for a cook out. We would answer questions then, they didn’t want to go through as many calls as last night.

  They no sooner said this than the phone started ringing. I grabbed my school notebook and kept track of everyone who called and asked how many they would be bringing. Altogether there would be forty three people at the cook out. It was five thirty. I was to tell them to be here at six o’clock.

  Uncle Wally called and I told him he could come over but remember Mum still had her broom. He called me some names I’m not supposed to use. He showed up and behaved himself.

  All my cousins and friends wanted to know if I had kissed Annette. I told them it would be on the show next week and they would get to see how close I got to kissing her.

  The guys thought it was really cool that I met John Wayne. We snuck down to the basement and I showed them the Colt 45’s he let me have, I was careful to lock them back up after we left.

  Then we went to my bedroom to show off my black cowboy hat made by Resistol. The Resistol brand wasn’t as famous as Stetson but I thought it was a better hat. I wore the hat for the rest of the evening. No one gave me any grief.

  The girls all had questions about Elvis. They were disappointed that I didn’t have anything autographed. All the kids wanted to know about the fight in the Mexican Cantina. The guys assured me they would have whipped the Mexicans. I didn’t contradict them. However, the eight guys that I remember would’ve had our crowd for lunch.

  The adults all wanted to know how much I had been paid. I explained that I received the SAG daily rate for bit players of sixty dollars.

  A neighbor exclaimed, “That little!”

  Of all people, my Uncle Wally quietly asked him, “He made that in a day, how much did you earn last week?”

  That cut that conversation off.

  We all had a good time. My little sister Mary kept answering the phone. She would say, “Jackson’s come on over,” and hang up. Listening and watching the serious look on her face was fun. We were surprised when Mr. Weaver showed up. He said, “Mary told me to come on over. I wanted to do a follow up and see how the story was being received.

  He was invited to have something to eat. He promptly dug in, but also asked almost everyone what they thought of the last two days stories. They all agreed the bank robbery was scary. The rodeo wins puzzled them because I wasn’t a known athlete. The movies were all wow, that lucky stiff.

  Again I was really surprised when my Uncle W
ally said, “Just think Ricky wouldn’t have had these adventures if Jack and Peg weren’t willing to let him take a chance.”

  Wally really puzzles me, just when I have him pegged as a bum he acts like he has tonight.

  The evening ended at nine o’clock as it was a school night. Mum and Dad told everyone they were doing it again tomorrow. It worked much better than being on the telephone till eleven at night. As he left Mr. Weaver asked if he could come the next day.

  Of course he could, he was getting to be a member of the family.

  Mary looked at him and solemnly said, “You don’t even have to call first.”

  He thanked her profusely. He also said, “I will behave myself, I hear your Mum can hit hard with her broom.”

  My Mum put in, “Yes I can George and if that is in the paper you will find out how hard.” Mum always said what she was thinking.

  The next day which was Wednesday it was raining so we all rushed to school and there weren’t many questions on the way. School was like a replay of yesterday, questions in the hall between classes, and in the cafeteria. The questions were all variations on those asked at the cookout last night.

  During study hall there were so many whispered questions Mr. Hurley asked if I would mind standing up in front, and answering them, so we could put it behind us and get on with our work.

  I couldn’t say no to him. Especially, since I had read about tattoos of numbers on arms in the encyclopedia last night. Now when I thought of the landing craft doors coming down I would also think of the pictures I had seen of the German concentration camps. What a world I had been sheltered from!

  One thing that was very noticeable was that girls my age were going out of their way to talk to me. All wasn’t bad!

  The rain had let up by the evening so there was another cook out. Now the story was about the cattle rustlers, capturing them and being made a Deputy Texas Ranger. The guys wanted to know every detail.

  The girls listened but then started with the questions about Brian Wilson and The Beach Boys, and my appearance on American Bandstand.

  The girls grilled me for half an hour about what the girls on bandstand wore, if Paul Anka was as nice as he was cute. I felt like the police had me under their spotlights.

  A couple of people there had seen the show, and everyone loved “Rock and Roll Cowboy.” But not one of them had associated Rick Jackson the singer with me. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or not.

  I did find out about my nice Uncle Wally, he cornered me and asked if I wanted to make a lot of money. I told him to talk to my parents. He got a little nasty and left. Now I know that he was just trying to get in good with me last night. What a bum!

  Thursday at school was a replay of the past two days. Mr. Hurley must have shared what he did in the study hall with Mr. Gordon our principal. I was called to the office during home room.

  He asked me if I would take questions from the whole school if they held a special assembly. I agreed to that, so he announced over the school PA system that second period would be an assembly, and that teachers were to collect questions from their classes for me to answer.

  I had been answering questions for days now, and had some answers thought through. When I was asked what it felt like to be a hero I replied.

  “I am not a hero, the bank robbery went so fast I had no time to think, it just happened. The rustlers didn’t have guns, I did. I see nothing heroic in those actions.”

  “If you want to know about real heroes read up on what our troops faced when landing on enemy beaches. Imagine hearing the machine gun bullets hitting the door, knowing that the door was about to open and let them in.

  “Think about people who had survived the concentration camps and being prisoners of war, now those were heroes. They all knew what they were facing and kept going. I just reacted.”

  That quieted the auditorium down. No one had expected this response.

  I continued, “I didn’t mean to come across so grim but I learned a few things this past summer. I learned there are a lot of good people out there willing to help a stranger. I learned there are others who would take advantage of you, even family members.”

  “But most of all I had a lot of fun. You think the rides at Indian Lake Amusement Park are fun. Try getting on the back of a eighteen hundred pound Brahma bull and going for a ride. You want to know about work, be a roughneck on an oil rig. Every boy ought to do it for a week. It will show you what hard work really is.”

  “Being an actor is not what you think it is, they work very hard to make everything appear easy. They have more patience than I ever will. I saw Mr. John Wayne repeat the same lines twenty seven times, and he had the same strength and conviction every time. By the way Elvis can’t memorize a script worth a darn.” This brought the house down with laughter.

  I then told my fellow students about how my singing career was already over. That Paul Anka, Brian Wilson and I all agreed that my voice wasn’t really strong enough to sing most songs. Rock and Roll Cowboy would be a onetime event.

  Since Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys had been my backup I would have to start a new band. This would take time and money and wasn’t worth the effort.

  I then concluded, “However, any cute girl that wants to date a rock and roll star see me after school.”

  This was intended as humor and I saw all the boys laughing and nudging each other. The girls were strangely quiet.

  Now the time was up, Mr. Gordon thanked me, and asked the whole student body and teachers if we now could get back to work.

  As I was leaving I saw Mr. Weaver at the back of the room taking notes. He waved to me to stop as I was leaving.

  “Rick that was a pretty strong speech you made about not being a hero. I had the impression that you were talking about specific people.”

  I thought for a moment. “Investigate Bill Samson’s war record. Since he can’t speak for himself anymore maybe you can. The other story isn’t mine to tell.”

  From behind me I heard.

  “George it is my story and maybe it is time for me to tell it,” Mr. Hurley said softly. I looked at both of them and left.

  Chapter 17

  As the day went on I found out I had friends I never knew. I was polite to everyone but remembered something a slightly drunk Elvis had told me at the Coronado Del Rey.

  “Kid they are all sincere. They all want just a little piece of you. You give enough little pieces away there won’t be any you left.”

  So I was polite to everyone but kept them at arm’s length. If they still wanted to be friends in several weeks we would see.

  Coach Stone stopped me in the hall.

  “Rick I hear you could be interested in playing golf.”

  “Coach, I have never played but I am looking for a sport. My body type doesn’t seem to fit for football, but Coach Crowley thought I might be a golfer.”

  “Well, tall and lean makes you a human lever. Do you have any plans for this Saturday?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “I have a round with the country club pro out at the Bellefontaine Country Club on Saturday. Why don’t you meet me here at school at the front door at eight o’clock? We will loan you the equipment and see how it works on the practice tees. Our tee time is at nine thirty so we will have enough time to see how it goes.”

  “Okay Coach, I would like that.”

  I also thought having an English mum who had tea all the time should help me, though for the life of me I didn’t see the connection of tea and golf.

  I walked home with Tom and Bill, now that they had heard my whole story they were almost in awe of me. We had only met when I moved to this neighborhood, so they didn’t know what to make of me.

  At dinner I told my parents about dropping out of football, and what Coach Crowley had recommended. They were okay with me meeting Coach Stone on Saturday. I asked what tea had to do with golf. After some confusion I found out what a golf tee was.

  I am glad I had asked my p
arents. It could have been really embarrassing on Saturday. Maybe my parents knew more than I thought.

  Dad told me he had to work third trick on Friday night, but that he would like to take me with him back to the old house on Saturday afternoon to see what had to be done to rent it out.

  After dinner I rode my bike to my scout meeting. I handed my merit badge card to Mr. Geist. He said he would turn it in to the Council in Springfield, but it would be after the first of the year till we could hold the Eagle ceremony.

  There were elections that night, and I was stepping down from Patrol Leader. I was now on the golf team and couldn’t make the meetings till November and I would even have to skip the camporee. No one got excited, in Scouts someone was always moving on, and others stepping up.

  When I got home even Denny and Eddie hadn’t been fighting, so I knew we were all tired. It was an early night at the Jackson house.

  After a good night’s sleep, my morning exercises, a brisk run and a full breakfast, I felt like a new person. I took my shower. Even toweling my hair as dry as I could get it still got me, “You will catch your death if you go out with wet hair.”

  I really had to figure something out. The shower was so easy and refreshing in the morning. It was a shame that the shower head was in the ceiling and pointed straight down. If I didn’t have to stand directly under it, I could wash up and not get my hair wet.

  It was like a light bulb went on. Why were shower heads built into the ceiling, why not into the wall?

  I thought about the shower construction as I walked to school. None of the other kids were walking this morning which was odd. Some would ride with their parents some days or be late, but neither Tom nor Bill was walking today. I saw Eleanor run out of her house and get in a car with an older boy, so much for those romantic hopes.

  Since I was early to school I stopped into the shop and asked Mr. Donaldson why showers were made to just dump down on the person. He thought for a moment.

  “I guess that is the way they have always made them. The first showers were just buckets with small holes in them which were suspended over the top of the tub. Why do you ask?”