36. The Convention Center and the Commencement ... THE FARM EAST OF PINE VILLAGE

Robert’s senior year demanded effective use of time. His responsibilities included editing the newspaper, editing the yearbook, serving as class president, competing in the regional and state piano competitions, and auditioning on piano at Indiana University.

One of his lighter duties was giving a short talk at the Prom. He handled that obligation well enough, but he and his classmate Susie also had to dance the first dance—a burden less assured of adequate attainment. By the time the dance rolled around, Susie and he were having so much fun joking with their friends that worries vanished, and they gave a lighthearted and carefree demonstration of their dancing prowess (or, in Robert’s case, lack thereof).

The newspaper staff had made money. Toward the end of the academic year, the members and their advisor, Mrs. Nealon, discussed what to do with the profits. The staff decided to attend Sammy Davis, Jr.’s concert celebrating the Gala Grand Opening of the Indiana Convention Center in Indianapolis on the 18th of May.

After driving to the capital city and walking from a nearby parking garage, the group slowly made its way down a packed hallway beyond the foyer of the Convention Center. The scents of new construction and floral perfume mingled in a heady atmosphere. The concertgoers were dressed to the proverbial nines. Eventually, the students and their advisor found their seats in the vast exposition hall with its stage at one end. The huge space was just as redolent of fragrance as the hallway had been. Robert thought the predominant tones in the bouquet were peach mingled with jasmine.

At 8:00 p.m., the lights dimmed so much that, to all intents and purposes, they went out. Simultaneously, the stage was lit with brilliant spotlights. When Sammy Davis, Jr., walked out, the applause was pure thunder. Having starred in eleven movies, having released over thirty albums, and having had two hits on Broadway, the entertainer was poised to become one of Los Vegas’ most enduring performers.

Davis performed “Gonna Build a Mountain,” “What Kind of Fool Am I?,” “Black Magic,” “I Gotta Be Me,” and “Hey There.” The star whose “Here Come de Judge” skits on Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In and whose other TV appearances had made him a household name, entertained the audience with ceaseless energy and boundless warmth.

It was one of the rare times in Robert’s life when he thought he might have to pinch himself to see if he were awake or only dreaming. For the rest of the summer before Robert left for college, he thought of the trip to the Convention Center whenever he heard Sammy Davis, Jr’s “The Candy Man” on the radio.

Graduation offered another of those times when Robert thought he might have to pinch himself.

When Robert stood at the podium on the stage in the gymnasium in Pine Village and gave the valedictory address, he heard his voice almost as if he were someone sitting in the rows of folding chairs on the tarps that had been spread to cover the basketball floor. He could hardly believe that he was the Valedictorian—especially after his cousin Pam had come so close to earning the title herself. She was a gracious Salutatorian.

While he spoke, Robert thought about the fact that his father and his brother had been Valedictorians at the same school. Had he failed to achieve the same goal, Robert would have felt humiliated.

A few days after Commencement, Robert and his mother were drinking iced tea on the front porch.

It struck Robert as strange that everything was ending. The school that he had longed to attend when he was but four years of age was now a place he could only visit. He had graduated. Within only three months, he would have no more piano lessons with Miss Jamieson. Even his room in the house on the farm east of Pine Village would no longer be occupied by him throughout the year but only in the summer. Robert would begin attending summer sessions at Indiana University after his sophomore year in college and would never be home again, except for holidays. Why should such tremendous changes be happening to him?

Ida seemed to understand her son’s jumbled emotions.

“You’ll be in college soon,” Ida began. “I want you to call and write as often as you can. Tell me about what you’re reading.”

She paused to sip her tea.

“College won’t be the same as high school,” she continued. “Through your classes, you’ll have experiences that, right now, you can’t even dream of having.”

Again she paused.

“You’ve been very successful in high school,” she went on. “College will be much more difficult. You may not succeed—”

“Oh, I’ll make sure I succeed,” Robert interrupted.

Ida smiled. “I wonder if I was as confident when I was your age,” she said. “You always prepare thoroughly, and you anticipate what lies ahead. Maybe there will be no limit to what you can accomplish. All I can tell you is to study hard and to listen closely to what your professors say. You can always turn to your brother for help and advice.”

She paused once more.

“You should slow down once in a while to look at where you’re headed because you don’t want to look back at the end of your life and realize you missed it. You tend to drive yourself, and I wouldn’t want you to forget the enjoyment along the way.”

Robert appreciated his mother’s insights. He looked above the young corn plants in the field across the road. The rows stretched toward a cobalt blue line of distant trees. He knew he would soon be leaving the farm, and he wanted to take vivid mental pictures to serve as clear memories later on. Yes, if he had to leave the farm, he was surely going to take the farm with him.

       

Christmas

A child in the late 1950s, I was accustomed to Christmas presents that were fewer and less expensive than those received by children of the generation after mine. One of the best presents that Santa left for me was a collection of hand puppets. For years, I told stories with them. Those cuddly toys helped me become a writer later in life.

My Family Visiting Santa at Sears in the 1950s

But I am ahead of myself, for this blog is about the days leading up to Christmases when I was a kid. Each year, the music teacher at the school planned a program of celebration, and, as a piano student, I was expected to perform. Each year, in the week before the event, I fell ill with flu and stayed home. Throughout grade school, I was never well enough to attend the Christmas program. I was not shirking my responsibilities; I was just a flu target.

I always recovered a few days before Christmas. Every year, my parents zipped my brother and me into our parkas, bundled us into the back seat of the 1957 two-door Chevrolet Bel Air, and took us to see the Christmas lights in Pine Village and Oxford, Indiana. As I could get car sick in the back seat, I had to take precautions, secretly rolling down the window a little so as to obtain fresh air, but I always enjoyed seeing the lights. In those years in such small towns, the light displays were modest. Outdoor strings featured large bulbs in primary colors. Wrapped around a living pine tree, such lights filled my heart with delight. Often, we could see the family Christmas tree with smaller lights and lots of crinkly metallic tinsel just inside a bay window or a picture window. I still remember the year when the Oxford doctor outlined the roof and windows of his ranch-style house in blue lights. We marveled at the color, as we had previously seen only multiple-colored strands. Also, we had rarely run across a house with its architectural features outlined in that way.

A day or two closer to Christmas, my parents took my brother and me to the Masonic lodge rooms on the second story of an old building on State Route 55 in town. The stairs were in the back and were dimly illuminated. I found them scary, creaking at every step. When we entered the main hall, we found the huge pot-bellied stove radiating tropical heat, melting the frost on the tall windows. The chairs were pushed back around the walls, and we kids sat quietly, waiting for Santa. Soon, we heard him ho-ho-hoing. He burst upon the gathering to the applause of the adults. Quickly, he handed small toys and candy to the assembled children. I looked upon him with awe.

On Christmas Eve, my family visited the Methodist Church. I recall the flickering light of candles in the stained glass. The scent of evergreen wafted into the sanctuary. In the candlelight, everyone’s eyes appeared large and mysterious. The adults wore smiles but were quieter than they were at a typical service. In the hush, the minister invited the congregation to sing carols to the tune of the organ. Tears well up in my eyes when I recall my mother’s soprano voice singing good old Christmas songs while she stood beside me and held my hand in that church so long ago.

At home in bed that night and barely able to shut my eyes from anticipation, I was always surprised to discover that I had fallen asleep and that the sunshine of Christmas morning was streaming through the windows. Tossing the covers aside, I dashed into the living room to find that Santa had indeed visited our house and had left presents for my brother and me!

My father in his overalls had already done his chores on the farm and had shaken the snow from his boots. He sat in a chair beside the Christmas tree with his coffee cup in his hand. My mother had already served breakfast and helped us kids to open our gifts. My grandfather, who lived in Indianapolis, was on hand. His eyes sparkled with the joy and hope of the holiday. I wish I could help you see them all as I see them in my vivid memory, for they were wonderful people. Later that morning, my grandmother and my great aunt joined us for “dinner,” as the noon meal was called. And what a magnificent dinner it was, with yeast rolls, fresh butter from our dairy, ham, peas, carrots, corn, and every good thing that my mother had canned from her garden.

If only I could return to that close family circle again! The promise of the Christmas story is that, one day, I can, and I hope I will.

Legends of Pine Village, Indiana: Professional Football Team Undefeated for Thirteen Years

In the early years of the sport of football, a professional team from my hometown of Pine Village, Indiana, made national news. The legendary Olympic athlete Jim Thorpe carried the ball for Pine Village. Do you suppose I exaggerate? You can begin to answer that question by reading this historical marker. Next, see this photograph, one of several illustrations accompanying Phil Richards’ story for Indystar.com, which you can peruse if you are a paid subscriber. Also, see Doris Cottingham’s book entitled Pine Village Football: The Inside “Dope” (2001). Doris, who taught English at Pine Village High School, wrote an excellent summary of her research.

A Few Members of the Famous Football Team

of Pine Village, Indiana: Charlie Rhode and

Charlie’s Cousin Claire Rhode in Front Row,

Charlie’s Brother Seymour A. Rhode

Third from Left in Back Row with Sister Bertha

Richards said, “Pine Village eventually became the Pros and although they never belonged to the NFL, theirs is perhaps the most fascinating story of Indiana’s early football history. By 1914, when Pine Village beat the Mickey Club of Indianapolis 111-0, its legend was growing. By 1915, they … had begun signing the first of many stars from Purdue, Indiana, Notre Dame, Wabash and DePauw. They went 8-0 that season and outscored their opponents 271-0, according to accounts meticulously compiled by Cottingham.” The team was undefeated from 1903 until 1916. No rival scored against the team for 111 games in a row.

The Famous Football Team of Pine Village, Indiana:

Charlie Rhode Second from Left in Second Row from Top

and His Cousin Claire Rhode, Team Manager, at Right

Incidentally, this paragraph from Doris’ article has a contemporary ring: “Coverage of high school and independent football focused more on the drinking and rowdyism of the spectators and the dangers of the game and injuries to the players. Editors pointed out that the bodies of young teenagers were in no condition to withstand the rough playing of the sport. Many said it should be banned in high school. Skimpy uniforms with little padding offered no protection. Parents, especially mothers, were concerned about injuries, and for several years newspapers at the end of the football season would list high school players throughout the country who had died as a result of football injuries. Many small town school authorities ruled out football as a school sport, and it was soon replaced by basketball. Pine Village high school football was discontinued in 1912.” The famous Pine Village team was an independent organization that we would call a pro team today.

The Famous Football Team of Pine Village, Indiana:

Claire Rhode, Team Manager, Fourth from Left in Front Row

and His Cousin Seymour A. Rhode Fifth from Left in Back Row

On December 20^th in 1971, I published a story in the Pine Village High School newspaper, which I edited. Entitled “Football Was Alive Here Then,” my article featured my interviews with my great uncle Charles J. Rhode and Eli Fenters, who played for the team. Charles’ cousin Claire Rhode was the manager during the halcyon years. The title of my article was a quotation from Uncle Charlie. A reprint of my article can be viewed here: http://www.wwtpl.lib.in.us/HistoryRecordView.aspx?historyRecordID=930.

I will admit that it challenges my imagination to picture the great football matches that my ancestors played and that drew such widespread attention. What must it have been like to play a game shoulder to shoulder with Jim Thorpe? Richards says the team’s “most famous game was a 1915 Thanksgiving Day showdown with the Purdue All-Stars. Team manager Claire Rhode imported Thorpe, an Olympic gold medalist and Canton Bulldogs star, for a one-game stint at a cost of $250 plus expenses. The investment paid. ‘Jim Thorpe, with a little assistance from the Pine Village team,’ beat the All-Stars 29-0, reported the Lafayette Daily Courier.” An anecdote often repeated when I was growing up might be based on fact. Supposedly, Jim Thorpe complimented Eli Fenters as the best “natural quarterback” Thorpe had ever encountered. When I interviewed Fenters late in his life, he possessed a quiet strength that made me believe the anecdote.