Fra maiskaker til Caviar - og tilbake igjen

(Og tilbake igjen?)

1925 - 1943

Jeg så aldri havet før jeg ble sendt til Parris Island til rekruttskole i Marine Corps. Siden den tid har jeg vært i 43 land og teller - fordi, i en alder av 72, har jeg noen interessante prosjekter på bålet. Men disse prosjektene vises til ulike tider og i mellom, jeg prøver å underholde meg selv ved å formidle litt av opplevelsen jeg har hatt den lykke å "holde ut".

For noen år siden, da jeg startet min karriere som en "International Gypsy" Jeg følte at forretningsbrev var i utgangspunktet kjedelig, og dermed var vanligvis ignorert. Jeg begynte å prøve å skrive på en måte som ville kanskje få oppmerksomheten til mottakeren. Som et resultat av dette, har gjennom årene venner og kolleger sa "Du skal skrive."

Da jeg var pre tenåringer og tenåringer alder Jeg spilte mye av baseball og tenkte det ville være fint å være en profesjonell baseballspiller. Da jeg var i Kina i 1946 i US Marine Corps vi startet et baseball-lag etter at vi hadde sendt den japanske tilbake til Japan og det var ikke mye å gjøre. Jeg ikke gjorde Regimental første laget, men jeg fikk til flaggermus en gang mot en kar som hadde vært en okse penn pitcher for Chicago White Sox. Han kastet et raskt ball som så ut for meg som en aspirin tablett nærmer på 90 miles per time og dommeren ropte "Strike". Han kastet en ny en som skremte meg til døde - en annen streik. Den tredje banen kom rett på hodet mitt og, være en høyrehendt batter, løp jeg ned den tredje grunnlinjen å unngå å bli drept. Det buet over midten av platen, ropte dommeren "Strike Three".

Jeg innså at jeg ikke skulle bli en pro baseball-spiller.

Også i tenårene, begynte jeg å spille saksofon i lokale danseband, og min ambisjon var å være en side mann i en av de mange gode band. Dette var en tid med "Swing" og de store navnene var Miller, Goodman, Dorsey etc.

I desember 1942, i den modne alder av 17, hadde jeg en samtale fra et band ved University of North Carolina. De hadde bestilt en tur til jul og nyttår sesong og fire av deres fem saksofon spillerne hadde blitt utarbeidet. De inviterte meg og to andre medlemmer av vår lokale band til å bli med dem. I løpet av denne turneen, og senere i Kina, jobbet jeg med folk på ekte talent, og jeg innså at jeg ikke skulle bli en profesjonell musiker.

Etter å ha lest mange av de briljante forfattere - og noen ikke så strålende - Jeg innser også at jeg aldri vil bli en pro på dette området heller - men - jeg kommer til å skrive dette for mine barnebarn i tilfelle at en dag, kan de ønske å vite fra der de kom. (Normalt ville jeg ha sagt "hvor de kom fra", men jeg husker da Winston Churchill ble refset i Stortinget for å ha en preposisjon på slutten av en setning. Han svarte skjenne ved å si "Dette er en nesevishet opp med som jeg ikke vil put ".

Første gang noen sa til meg "Du skal skrive" var som et resultat av mitt første brev til Weyerhaeuser hovedkvarteret da jeg først kom i Guatemala. Jeg gikk gjennom filene når jeg kom og jeg fant ut at bokstavene hver måned sa, mer eller mindre "Salget er opp 1,3% over samme måned i fjor. Administrative Expense er 6,8% i motsetning til 6,7% i fjor. Inventar er 1.200 tonn. Osv, osv. "

Siden anlegget i Guatemala var svært små, med Weyerhaeuser standarder, bestemte jeg meg for at ingen skulle lese denne typen rapporten, spesielt når han var arbeider med mange bedrifter i utlandet.

Min første brevet var som følger:

Mr. Ivan Wood

Vice President, International

Weyerhaeuser Company

Tacoma, Washington

Kjære Ivan,

Som du vet, åpnet United Fruit Company sin egen boks anlegg og cajas y Empaques de Guatemala bare mistet 45% av virksomheten. Naturligvis, skapte dette et tap for måneden.

Vi vil gjenopprette dette så snart som mulig og jeg antar at dette er grunnen til at du sendte meg hit.

Forrige onsdag geriljaen drepte den amerikanske ambassadøren og alle utlendingene her er redd S-mindre. Å være en ex Marine, tror jeg jeg kan klare det.

Jeg begynner å tilpasse seg den kulturelle endringen sakte. Da jeg kom jeg la merke til at alle husene hadde en mur rundt dem og plenen og hagen var i denne forbindelsen.

Jeg trodde det var for beskyttelse, som er delvis riktig, men det har en mer praktisk grunn til å være.

Guatemala har en regntung sesong for seks måneder og en tørr sesong i seks måneder. Den tørre årstiden fører til en ekstrem vannmangel og også raser bakterier.

De fleste tror at problemet med vannmangel, er at det ikke er drikkevann. Det er alltid øl, cola og soda vann å drikke. Det virkelige problemet er at du ikke kan skylle toalettet, men en gang.

Å leve i et hus med tre mennesker og en hushjelp når bakterien har påført alle med "grønt eple rask skritt", og bare å kunne skylle toalettet én gang, er over og utover Call of Duty.

Det var på denne tiden at jeg innså verdien av veggen for personvernet og den praktiske bruken av alle de vakre trær og busker i hagen.

Min katt, som har hatt mye erfaring i denne typen ting, kom på andreplass.

Vennlig hilsen

MB Tilson

Asheville, NC

Kanskje tittelen på denne lille brevet er forvirrende - la meg avklare.

Jeg ble født i Asheville, NC i 1925. Min familie var av «middels inntekt." - Må ikke forveksles med "middelklassen" Min sønn, Bill, i sin avhandling for en mastergrad i arkitektur skrev "etter en lang og interessant barndommen" - Jeg vil gjerne cop denne frasen fordi jeg også hadde en lang og interessant barndommen - men, å være en middels inntekt sørlige familien, vi spiste stekt kylling og maiskaker. Det ville være år før jeg noensinne hadde reker cocktail og kaviar - men de er bra!

Og nå, etter pensjonsalder, har vi tilbake til maiskaker. Med litt flaks, litt mer hardt arbeid og noen flere år, kanskje, som general MacArthur, skal vi tilbake.

Den store jazz sangeren, Pearl Bailey gang sa "jeg har vært dårlig og jeg har blitt rik og rik er bedre".

Hvis min historie er interessant det er bare på grunn av de interessante mennesker som jeg har vært tilknyttet. Av denne grunn, vil jeg fortelle mange historier, noen uten å navngi navn "for å beskytte den ikke så uskyldig".

Hvis jeg dvele ved fortiden mer enn fremtiden, er det fordi det er mer av det tidligere enn av sistnevnte.

Jeg antar at stedet å begynne er i begynnelsen. Jeg ble født i Asheville, NC og navngitt Melvin Blalock Tilson Jr Dette er skjellig grunn for meg å overta kallenavnet "Charlie" som sitter fast med meg gjennom årene.

Min mor, Mary Reagan, var den yngste av åtte barn av JJ Reagan og Carolyn Pickens fra Weaverville, NC - en metropol av 500 personer, hvorav de fleste var adressert som "Cousin" eller "tante" eller "onkel", selv om det kan ikke har vært en familie-tilkobling. Dette var et tegn på respekt på den tiden. Det kom også godt med i merkelige måter. Onkel Frank Weaver pleide å sitte på benken på Main Street. Fordi han hadde fått litt runde rundt midten, kunne han ikke zip buksene helt opp. Senere, når en av de mannlige medlemmene av familien ville glemmer å zippe vi bare hadde å si "Hei, onkel Frank" og den skyldige skjønte umiddelbart hva han hadde glemt.

Papa Reagan, som vi kalte vår bestefar, var kjent som «åttende rangeringen matematiker i USA." Dette ble akseptert, og det dukket opp i hans nekrolog. Men - om lag 10 år, begynte jeg å spørre meg selv «Hvordan vurderer du Matematikere?" The batting champion er beregnet ved treff vs ganger med balltre. En utmerket seg bestemmes av en sum av karakterer, men hvordan rangerer du matematikere?

Som jeg ble eldre, tror jeg jeg funnet ut hvordan denne tittelen utviklet seg.

The Odd Fellows Hall var den lokale samlingspunkt og sosial klubb for menn i Weaverville. Her kunne tygge tobakk og spille domino. Jeg forstår ikke helt det spillet, men jeg vet at måten de spilte det, var det en matematisk øvelse. Papa vanligvis vant fordi han var god. Han korresponderte med professorer fra Yale og Harvard, og de sendte hverandre problemer å løse. Det ble sagt at han ville hoppe opp midt på natten, skriver svaret på et problem på sin natt skjorten, og gå tilbake til å sove, men - dette fortsatt ikke svare på rangeringen.

Jeg visualiserer at, etter å ha blitt grundig slått av "Fessor" Reagan, en av gruppen trolig sa "Fessor er veldig smart. Han må være den beste matematiker i landet ". Og en annen svarte: "Vel, jeg vet ikke, det er at Einstein feller og han er ganske smart". Og, etter en diskusjon ble de enige om at kanskje han ikke var nummer en, men han må bli nummer åtte. Det er min teori, men kanskje han ble nummer tre - hvem vet?

Siden college professorer var betalt enda verre da enn de er nå, var Papa Reagan også en landmåler og han hadde en barnehage og en liten gård. Han eide Hamburg Mountain som var bak huset hans og, selv om det var lite i forhold til ekte fjell, gjorde det har frukttrær, dyrket mark og beiteområder. Han hadde også et røykfritt hus hvor landet spekeskinke var kurert. Dette er fortsatt min favoritt kjøtt.

Han hadde lest om Luther Burbank vel, fordi han eksperimenterte med pode frukttrær. Hvis min hukommelse serverer meg riktig etter alle disse årene, hadde han ett tre som hadde epler, pærer, kirsebær og fersken på samme treet. Jeg tror ikke dette fortsatte, men, for det året den ble podet, var alle fruktene spiselige.

Mama Reagan var en Gud fryktet dame av den gamle skolen - en etterkommer av en lang rekke Methodist forkynnere. Jeg husker at en søndag, Papa Reagan snek seg til en låve for å høre på World Series på radio (det var ingen TV da). Mama rakket ned ham fryktelig for brudd på sabbaten. Papa svarte «Men ingen kunne se meg". Slik som Mama svarte «Herren kan se deg".

Ofte, når jeg var veldig ung, ville alle mine mors brødre og søstre og deres barn har middag (dette var midten dagen måltidet) på Reagan huset. På grunn av det store antallet, spiste vi barn på den andre tabellen. Det var her at jeg utviklet en motvilje for kake. Mama Reagans kokos kaken var så tørr som Sahara ørkenen og veide ca 8 pounds per skive. Min mor syntes å ha arvet dette stor dyktighet i å lage mat så aldri i mitt liv har jeg noensinne har sagt til min Kjære Ann, "Hvorfor kan ikke du lage mat som mamma?"

Jeg ønsker ikke å dvele ved Papa Reagan, men jeg kunne fortsette og fortsette. Så - bare et par mer ting.

Når han og hans sønner, den yngste på den tiden ca 6 år gammel, gikk opp Hamburg Mountain å reparere noen av gjerder. Den yngste, tror jeg det var "Forkynn", var opp videre med flere andre og pappa var noen måter bak. Plutselig kom det en blod curdling skrik, og pappa begynte å løpe opp på fjellet. Han syntes det var en forferdelig tragedie, og han ropte "Hva skjedde?" Den eldste som var opp med "Forkynn" (jeg tror det var Grady) skrek tilbake "Han droppet hammeren på tåa hans."

Papa svarte med å rope tilbake "Ta den hammeren og drepe den gutten!" Dette nå minner meg om Bill Cosby rutine der hans kone sa, når han kommer tilbake fra jobb "Gå opp trapper og drepe den gutten."

Mama Reagan falt og brakk hoften mens jeg var borte i Marine Corps. Hun ble senile, som vi sa da, men nå vet jeg det var Alzheimers. Dessverre døde hun før jeg kom tilbake fra Kina.

Papa Reagan fortsatte i mange år mer, men ble drept av en bil mens krysser motorveien. Bilen ble kjørt av en bryllupsreise par og selvfølgelig, ble de knust. Dag, ville familien antakelig har saksøkt og krevd enorme summer. I disse dager, og jeg håper vi komme tilbake til disse moral, beklaget min mors familie til paret, forklarte at i en alder av 85 hadde han ikke ser eller hører for godt, og de var på ingen måte ansvarlig.

Den delen jeg likte mest, og håper å etterligne, er at han var angivelig på vei for å se sin venninne. (Greit Annie, avslutter smirking, vet jeg at du tenker på George Gershwin melodien "Det er ikke nødvendigvis så", der teksten sier «Metusalem levde 900 år, men hva er vitsen med livin 'når ingen gal vil gir etter for ingen mann som er 900 år. ") Jeg kan drømme kan ikke jeg?

Nå, la oss gå raskt gjennom min mors generasjon av Reagan klanen:

Den eldste var Anna Lee (vi barna kalte henne "Key") - hvis hun var i live hun ville drepe meg for å si dette fordi hun var en skuespiller og følgelig ganske forgjeves. Hun har aldri gjort det til Broadway men hun studerte i Boston og var aktiv i lokale og regionale spiller. Jeg tror hennes siste var en produksjon kalt "til disse Hills" som var en krønike om Cherokee indianerne. Hun spilte i dette for flere år og også spilt i en vellykket lek som heter "Tight britches" som ble skrevet av Hubert Hayes, en dramatiker fra The University of North Carolina.

Key's datter var Mary Madeline. Siden Key var 20 år eldre enn min mor, mor og Mary Madeline (Manna) faktisk vokste opp sammen. Dette høres kanskje ut som den gamle tegneserien "The Mountain Boys" hvor 6 'tall, hagle totin' bootleggers hadde en onkel som heter Rufe. Onkel Rufe var i bleier og var ca 6 mnd gammel - men det er slik det var i gamle dager før familieplanlegging.

Key giftet Scroup Styles (Ikke love deg disse navnene?)

Alma (som vi kalte Tante) var en sykepleier. Hun giftet seg med en advokat og bodde i High Point, NC Hennes mann, som vi kalte "Onkel Nobe", het Xenobious Walker. Etter at jeg fant ut hans virkelige navn, var Melvin ikke høres så ille.

Min mor, Maria, var den med musikalsk talent. Hun var solist i Metodistkirken i år og, ukjent for de fleste, sang hun i begravelser for det vi nå kaller "bostedsløse". Da jeg fant ut av dette, var jeg stolt.

Min mors onkler var:

Grady - var i hæren under første verdenskrig, en og kanskje var forløperen til USO. Han var ved fronten i Frankrike, og deretter skrev noen sanger om krigen og ble sendt rundt for å underholde troppene da de var på rasteplasser. Han skrev en sang kalt "Bloody War" som senere ble utgitt, var dette en enkel sang med mange vers som gjelder for tiden og jeg brukte den mange år senere for å skrive parodier for våre venner.

Senere ble han leder av Fylkesnemnda for kommisjonærer. Dette var en politisk jobb og tilsynelatende viktige. På den tiden var det ingen republikanere i Buncombe County eller kanskje ikke i North Carolina, men det var hard konkurranse. De to fraksjonene ble kjent som "Ring" og "Anti Ring". The Ring ble kontrollert av Deacon Greene. Han har aldri hatt en tillitsverv, og han bodde i Langren Hotel, men ingenting skjedde uten godkjennelse av Deacon. Grady ble endelig beseiret og jeg vet egentlig ikke hva han gjorde etter det. Jeg vet at tante Grace, hans kone, jobbet på Ivey's varehus. Kanskje Grady aldri gjorde noe etter det.

Hans sønner var Grady, Jr og Gordon. Grady Jr hadde en god bass stemme, det samme gjorde hans far og sang i kirkekoret. Det siste jeg hørte, han jobbet for Veteraner Administration. Gordon hadde en basketball stipend til UNC og jeg så ham for siste gang i Chapel Hill. Jeg hadde kommet tilbake fra Kina og var utnytte GI Bill å fullføre min utdanning og han, at han var yngre, hadde nettopp inn UNC. Det siste jeg hørte om ham, var han i diplomatisk tjeneste i Pakistan.

Rob - Jeg antar hans navn var Robert, men jeg visste aldri annet enn "onkel Rob". Rob var en inspektør eller, som vi sier nå, en sivil ingeniør. Han var ganske vellykket, og han bygde et hus rett bak mamma og pappa Reagan. Han og tante (vi uttales det Ant) Belle fikk to barn - Bobby og Gloria (Glo). Bobby ønsket å bli tannlege, men en eller annen grunn aldri gjort det. Det siste jeg hørte om ham, var han en selger for Morton Salt. Glo gift med en mann som hadde en bilforretning i Virginia Beach. Da jeg var i den Dominikanske republikk, hun og hennes mann (jeg skammer meg over at [MT1] Jeg kan ikke huske navnet hans) kom til Casa de Campo for en golf ferie. Hyggelige mennesker.

Ernest - Onkel "Ern" var en bok keeper. Han og tante Zola (hadde ikke vi har noen store navn?) Hadde fire barn. Den ene var tilbakestående og ble satt i en "hjem". Den eldste var Elaine, en herlig dame. Hun giftet seg med en Marine kaptein og, da jeg var på Camp Lejeune i Marine Corps, inviterte de meg til huset til middag. Etterpå gikk vi på kino, men siden jeg var en PFC. og han var kaptein, atskilt vi. Jeg satte meg ned trappa, og de satt på balkongen i offiser delen. I dag er denne vil trolig bli kalt "diskriminering", men jeg tror det er riktig.

Ernest Jr (Bud), og Jim var de to guttene. Knopp og jeg, å være på samme alder, var trolig nærmere enn noen av mine mannlige søskenbarn. Bud var en mester spøk teller, særlig av skitne, men morsomme, vitser. Han endte opp som en Navy Chaplain - og ganske god en. Dessverre døde han i begynnelsen av 40-tallet. Jeg så han aldri etter at vi forlot Chapel Hill.

Jim var en Marine, som I. Men, siden det var en aldersforskjell, var jeg ikke i nærheten av ham. Den siste kontakten jeg hadde var fra Jacksonville, hadde Fla Jim lidd et alvorlig tilfelle av leddgikt og for mye av tiden var begrenset på VA sykehuset i Gainesville, Florida Han startet en krønike om Reagan klanen. Jeg skal prøve å finne om han er fortsatt på det selv om jeg ikke har et telefonnummer.

Carol - Vi kalte ham «Uncle Forkynn". Han fikk dette navnet fordi, som barn brukte han til å gå ut i skogen og forkynne prekener. Dette åpenbart kom fra besøk av beslektede "circuit ryttere" som var en del av Mama Reagan familie. Forkynne gift "Tante Ann" - en liten dame som jobbet i en bank i den lokale banken. Hun var et offer for et bankran, komplett med hagler og masker, i den lokale banken. Dette var tiden av John Dillinger og om det var Dillinger eller annen smålig tyv, vet vi ikke - men det var spennende å tenke at det var gamle John.

Deres eneste barn var Suzy. Suzy var ca 2 år yngre enn jeg, så vi ikke var nære da vi var unge. Men, av grunner ukjent for oss begge, og selv om vi aldri så hverandre mer enn en eller to ganger etter at vi vokste opp, ble vi "favoritt søskenbarn". Suzy gift med en flott fyr som var en executive for Malcolm McLean på Sjælland. Det siste jeg hørte de bodde i Connecticut og deres eldste sønn var en fenrik i marinen. Jeg skal prøve å finne dem også.

Scruggs - (Disse navnene blir bedre hele tiden). Onkel Scruggs gift "tante Myrtle". Han flyttet til Evansville, Indiana før jeg ble født så jeg bare så ham på sjeldne besøk til Weaverville. De hadde en sønn, Jim. Jeg husker ham bare fordi, på en to måneders opphold i Weaverville løpet av sommeren, begynte han å få vekt. Ingen kunne forstå dette før han sa "Dette er den beste melken jeg noensinne har hatt i mitt liv". Mamma & Pappa Reagan hadde kyr og holdt en mugge med ren fløte i kjøleskapet. Jim var å drikke flere glass om dagen. Snakk om kolesterol! Det siste jeg hørte om Jim, var han i Las Vegas.

I sammendraget, noen sa en gang av min mors brødre "To ble alvorlig, solide borgere. En likte whisky, likte en kvinner og det andre likte begge. "Unødvendig å si, jeg skal ikke identifisere dem ved navn.

Nok om min mors familie. La oss gå videre til min fars side.

Jeg visste aldri min farfar fordi han døde da min far var 14. Av denne grunn, pappa aldri ferdig på skolen -. Jeg tror han gikk til 7. klasse Han begynte å kjøre buggy for min grandonkel, Dr. Weaver og dette var opphavet til min Fars kallenavnet "Little Doc" som senere utviklet seg til rett og slett "Doc."

Min farmor var Essie Penland. Jeg tror ikke Essie var den virkelige navn, men det er alt vi har kjent. Dette var før tiden med trygd så, da Miss Essie ikke lenger kunne kjøre henne pensjonatet, kom hun til å leve med oss. Det eneste jeg husker om "bestemor Tilson" var da hun satt meg på fanget, da jeg var ca 7 år gammel, og leste meg bibel historier. Også brukte hun til å ta meg på trikken til steder der de servert vannmelon i sommerhalvåret. Jeg fortsatt elsker vannmelon. Granny døde mens hun bodde hos oss. Jeg aner ikke hvor hun sov fordi vi hadde en 2 roms hus. Min kjære søster "Til" og jeg delte et soverom, mine foreldre hadde den andre. Hvor ble Granny sove? - Jeg har aldri tenkt på dette før dette øyeblikk!

George og Essie hadde 5 barn. Den eldste var min onkel George, da min far Melvin, da Bertha, Edgar og Harriet. Denne siden av familien hadde store navn også.

George giftet seg med tante Marian - en Yankee ikke mindre. De hadde ingen barn men hadde en Scottie hund. De kom til huset en natt, fortvilet, fordi hunden var død. De følte seg skyldige fordi de ikke hadde hatt sin mandlene fjernet i tide. Resten av oss, som hundene kom fra pund eller av gaten og spiste middagsrester, kunne ikke se for seg en hund å gå til legen for en operasjon.

Jeg har nylig hørt av min fetter Fred Reeves at tante Marian var fortsatt i live i en alder av 97, men egentlig var ikke "med det". Spare meg denne.

Edgar var det svarte får. Han giftet seg og fikk ett barn, Bertha Ann. Bertha Ann bodde i flere år med Harriet. Hva skjedde med henne senere, har jeg ingen anelse.

Bertha var stor. Vi kalte henne tante Tillie (et kallenavn hennes mann, Fred, hadde gitt henne - avledet fra Tilson). De hadde et fint hus med en tennisbane i Weaverville og 2 hytter i fjellet på Reems Creek. Dette hotellet Hakuba Camp Sequoia som var, og kanskje fortsatt er, en eksklusiv leir for gutter og jenter. Fred jobbet i banken i Weaverville og når alle bankene begynte å svikte under depresjonen, han var, hvordan sier vi i dag? - Bygget ned?

Etter dette, solgte de (eller tapt) huset i Weaverville og flyttet til hyttene. De bodde i ett og leide den andre. De var tømmerhytter, laget på den gammeldagse måten, men var veldig behagelig, bortsett fra at maten ble bevart i våren huset og avløp var et godt ut bygning omgitt av blomster som vi kalte "Johnny House liljer".

Deres to barn var Fred (Junie) og Mary Elizabeth (Libba).

Jeg har nylig snakket med Fred og han hadde nettopp feiret sin 80-årsdag. Han sa at han ikke har mange venner fordi han ikke likte gamle mennesker. Fred spilt på tennis laget på NC State, kanskje et resultat av å ha en domstol i huset hans. Han var kaptein i Air Force i andre verdenskrig og etter krigen flyttet til California og gikk inn i eiendomsmarkedet. Jeg tror han fortsatt dabbles i dette. Jeg håper å se ham om min boligprosjekt i Tijuana utvikler fordi han bor i nærheten av San Diego.

Libba giftet seg med en kjøpmann marine offiser og hadde en datter som hun kalte "Eve" fordi hun var den første jenta i mannens familie i flere generasjoner. Jeg har mistet kontakten med dem helt, og siden Libba var eldre enn Fred, kanskje hun ikke lenger er i live.

Harriet giftet seg med John Brady, en ingeniør. De produserte to sønner, John og George. John og Harriet var skilt og Harriet endte opp i New York jobber for regjeringen. Hun gikk bort for noen år siden. George bor et sted i New England, men John døde ganske ung. Han var redaktør for avisen i Franklin, NC - en by ganske lik Weaverville.

Jeg hadde en spesiell hengivenhet for tante Tillie fordi, når jeg var ca 10 år gammel jeg bruker til å klatre i trærne bak en av hennes hytter og gå på den store vinranker som vokste i disse trærne. Hun ville ikke la onkel Fred kutte disse vinranker fordi "Charlie liker å klatre på dem".

Jeg tok min kjære Ann til hytta da vi var forlovet - kort tid før vi var gift. Jeg visste ikke at hun ikke var betatt av fjellene, som jeg var, og jeg insisterte på at vi swing på en drue vintreet over bekken. Hun skar henne beinet i prosessen, og dette var hennes siste venture på en drue vintreet. Hun gjorde imidlertid til å sove på en huske på verandaen og veldig avslappet, så det var ikke et fullstendig tap.

Nå - etter alle disse menneskene, kommer sammen "lille Melvin". Jeg ble født 4. januar 1925 og den traff meg i går, etter å ha sett den altfor tidlig død til prinsesse Diana og også søster Maria Teresa, at søster Teresa som døde i en alder av 87 ble født bare 15 år før meg. Jeg hadde bedre travelt med å fullføre denne krønike!

Jeg har kommet til tro - vel, kanskje ikke tro, men være interessert i den generelle trekk ved Zodiac. Jeg er en Steinbukken og har alle de generelle trekkene tilskrives oss "Geiter". Jeg giftet meg med en Leo og hun har alle egenskapene til en "løvinne" - prinsesse av jungelen.

Siden vi Steinbukker er ganske plodding, seig og noen ganger naive individer, min første minnene er passende. Når jeg spilte i feltet ved siden av huset vårt i Weaverville, hvor vi hadde flyttet kort tid etter at jeg ble født, og jeg gikk i et innlegg hull . Min lille foten gikk ned spissede, men flatet ut i bunnen slik at det ikke ville komme ut. Andre, kanskje lysere og mer emosjonell enn jeg ville ha skrek om hjelp. Jeg, som en kjedelig Capricorn, sto stille til jeg var savnet. Min mor, som ikke var så følelsesløs, kom skrikende inn i feltet og gravde meg ut med en sølvskje.

Min neste erindring var at jeg hadde et kjæledyr geit. Min far bygde en vogn formet som en brannbil og bukken kunne trekke dette. Fetterne mine, som var eldre, og selvsagt flinkere enn jeg ville si "Charlie, bor du her og vente på eventuelle nødanrop som kommer i. Vi vil ta vognen og undersøke eventuelle branner som skjer. "Selv om jeg trodde på dem på den tiden, har dette holdt meg fra å være" suckered i "mange ganger siden.

Mitt neste minne er da vi flyttet tilbake til Asheville og leide et hus på Merrimon Avenue. Jeg var bare ca 6 år gammel, men jeg husker at jeg hadde en liten svart bord på et staffeli i rommet mitt, men jeg hadde bare ett stykke hvitt kritt med å trekke. På søndag skolen i Central Methodist Church, Sør, var det farget kritt. Jeg stjal det!

Å være veldig smart, gjemte jeg dette på rommet mitt til rundt det neste onsdag. Så - mens du spiller i gården jeg snublet og falt ned. Jeg kom opp fra bakken og sa til mine foreldre som var på verandaen "Se, jeg snublet og falt og landet på en boks med farget kritt".

De selvfølgelig visste at kalk hadde vært savnet fra søndagsskole for 3 dager og var smarte nok til å vente på utviklingen. Etter å ha fortalt meg hvor heldig jeg var å finne denne kritt og med diskret spørsmål om hvordan det kan ha fått det - jeg tilsto. Jeg returnerte kritt neste søndag og jeg har aldri stjålet noe siden. Kanskje hvis jeg hadde sluppet unna med dette eller om jeg hadde sittet fengslet i seksårsalderen, ville jeg ha vært en bekreftet kriminell.

Forresten, Methodist Episcopal Church-Sør betydde Central at det ikke var noen svarte i menigheten.

Min far, som var kjent som litt av en humorist, som brukes til å si at vi flyttet hver gang leien forfalt. Dette var ikke sant, men da jeg var ca åtte år gammel flyttet vi til 6 Coleman Avenue. Dette var omtrent en mil unna, men det betydde at jeg ville ha et komplett nytt sett med venner fordi det var en annen nabolaget.

Jeg har mange minner fra 6 Coleman Avenue. Det var et lite hus, kanskje 700 ft2 på prinsippet gulvet, men med en kjeller og en garasje. Vi hadde to soverom. Mor og far hadde en, og jeg delte den andre med søsteren min. Hvor Granny Tilson sov da hun kom for å bo hos oss, vet jeg ikke.

Min far har alltid ønsket å ha en "Hoss" fordi jeg tror han var betatt av den gamle vesten og cowboyene i filmene. Friluftstunet Park var en av 1930-tallet fornøyelsesparkene som hadde en dyrehage, Merry Go Round, bump biler, pariserhjul osv. Det hadde også en ridetur. Pappa fant at eierne av ridetur ville la noen har en ponni til å holde i vintersesongen når parken ble stengt, hvis de matet den og så etter det.

Han fikk meg en ponni. Min mor og søster var ikke altfor glad, men far, jeg og mine venner var!

Selv om huset vårt var liten, gikk mye tilbake om lag 300 meter. Vi var i leide eiendommen, men pappa tok ned garasjeporter og brukte dem for sidene på et stabilt for min pony "Phyllis" - AKA "Phil".

Det er utrolig hvor mange venner du har når du har en ponni.

Phil brukte å komme seg løs, og siden jeg forlot for grammatikk skolen før min søster reiste til videregående skole, måtte hun gå opp til Merrimon Avenue for å få Phil og bringe henne tilbake til stallen. Phil alltid syntes å tråkke på Til foten og ikke vite om hester og hater dem også, Til visste ikke at alt du trenger å gjøre er å plukke opp ankelen og løft foten. Jeg tror hun lært noen vulgære ord i denne opplevelsen.

Samtidig hadde jeg en hund, en katt, en Bantam høne og en hane Bantam. Hunden hadde seks unger, katten hadde 8 kattunger og bantams klekket en flokk på 12. Min mor var veldig tolerant.

At that time I started my first commercial venture. I sold magazines from door to door – Saturday Evening Post and Ladies Home Journal. I was not very good at this so I was not successful. The only one worse than I was my neighbor, Billy Charnuckle. His approach was to say to whomever answered the door “You don't want to buy any magazines do you?” They would of course say “No” and shut the door.

When I was about 11 we moved to Murdoch Avenue. This was the favorite place I lived while growing up. It was a small house – one floor with a basement, part of which was a garage. It had 3 bedrooms, two of which were formerly a large sun porch so there were windows all around. Off of the living room there was a large storage closet with exit to a small balcony. I chose this for my room rather than one of the bedrooms. It had room for my bed, plenty of shelves and not much more but it was private and cozy. It had a few disadvantages not for me but for others. My sister, being 4 years older, quite often had company and dates. They were in the living room and to get from my “hideaway” to the bathroom, it was necessary to pass through the living room. I went to bed early, since I was carrying newspapers on a morning route and for me to get up about 11:00 pm and traipse through the living room in my underwear was quite disconcerting to my sister, particularly when she was trying to impress the latest “love of her life”.

Den viktigste grunnen til at jeg likte dette huset var nabolaget. Det var kjent som "Norwood Park" og det var en overflod av barn i alle aldre. Across fra huset mitt var et område som vi kalte "The Woods". Det var kanskje rundt 5 hektar med trær med en bekk som går gjennom den og en maisåker på den andre siden. Hver sommer vi bygget en demning over denne bekken, og skapte en svømmende hull. Dette ble overvåket av de eldre medlemmene av gruppen som var minst 15 år gammel. Resten av oss, fra 8 år til 14, var det felles arbeidsmarkedet. Bekken var kanskje 8 meter bred og ca 1 eller 2 meter dypt under normale tider. Vår prosedyre, som ikke var dårlig for en gruppe barn, var som følger:

Vi kuttet ned et høyt tre - kanskje 30 meter høye med en diameter på kanskje 12 eller 15 inches. Dette vi lagt over bekken for å nå bredden av bekken som var ca 5 meter over bekken nivå. Vi satset denne loggen ned i hver ende, slik at den ikke kunne bevege seg i begge retninger.

Vi begynte da å scrounge hele nabolaget og noen nærliggende byggeplass for trelast som ikke var bundet ned. Mens jeg skriver dette innser jeg at vi var nok stjele, men vi tenkte aldri på å plukke opp en løs bit av trelast som tyveri, selv om vi vanligvis gjorde dette om natten.

These planks were then put at about a 45 degree angle, one end nailed to the log across the “canyon” and the other end in the dirt in what would be the pool.  We started at each end and worked our way to the middle, leaving a space for the creek to flow through. Underneath the lumber we piled rocks to support the planks and on top of the planks we piled dirt. This dirt was dug out of the creek bed and the sides to make the pool deeper and larger.

After several weeks of work the dam was complete except for a section in the center about 3 feet wide. This was the time to mobilize all of the kids who had worked on it. (You could not swim in the pond unless you participated in the construction). Everyone arrived at about 7am with shovels, picks, hammers and much excitement. When the planks were placed in the center we all began to shovel like mad to cover the remaining space. This was usually accomplished by 9 am and then came the waiting for the dam to overflow.

It usually took about 5 days for the pond to fill up and, of course, during this time there was no water downstream because we had closed off the entire flow. We put twigs in the bank at water level and checked them the next day to see how many inches the water had risen. From this primitive measurement, we could guess about when the water would flow over the dam.

The creek started from a spring on Sunset Mountain and flowed through the Asheville Country Club golf course in front of Grove Park Inn. After it passed our swimming hole, it meandered through the suburbs and about 15 miles down stream, it flowed through farm land. About the 3rd day of no water there would be a farmer walking upstream to see why his live stock were not getting any water from the creek. We knew this would happen so we always had someone on duty at the dam while it was filling up (except at night). When the farmer would inevitably arrive, a signal would go out and any one nearby would come to plead with him to wait “just one more day”. “Please, Mister, don't break our dam”. They never did since they too had been kids.

The overflow was an occasion for celebration. The word went out to the entire neighborhood “The Dam Is Going to over Flow about Midnight!!  We begged our parents to let us go watch and usually they consented and quite often accompanied us.

I learned to swim in this swimming hole and, since it was so shallow, I can dive in a teacup without hitting the bottom. In the early morning it was crystal clear but after 20 kids had been stirring up the mud from the bottom, in the late afternoon it was a dark brown. At night we would take a small piece of wood, about 1 foot square, place a lighted candle on it, tie a string to one edge and float in into the pond. Frogs, attracted by the light, would jump up on the wood and give out what I suppose was their mating call. It was there that I learned to call frogs and this became a great source of amusement at cocktail parties – especially when a frog appeared from a country club pool.

Feltet på den andre siden av dammen fra skogen var ikke alltid plantet i korn. Sometimes they planted potatoes and we would dig up a few, roast them in the coals covered with mud and have a feast. I guess this was stealing also.

We had quite a large number of kids in the neighborhood, close enough in age to be compatible and were actually able to field a baseball team and a football team from the neighborhood.

At this time I took on a newspaper route. This is perhaps the greatest business experience for young people but it does not exist today. It has evolved, like everything else, into volume and is now handled by adults with automobiles who hire young people or immigrants to deliver over large areas. My route was 100 clients in a working class district. They went to work at 7:00 am and wanted their morning paper by 6:00 am. So – I got up at 4: am and finished by 6:00am, went back to sleep for 1 hour and got up to go to school. In the summer time when there was no school, my friends who also carried papers, came to the swimming pool at the country club (we were not members) and we swam at 6:00 am in the morning. Sometimes the guard would come out and threaten us for trespassing but he never pulled his gun and we left peaceably.

Jeg fikk også en jobb i helgene som en kontorist i McIntyre's Fruit Store. This was run by Joe McIntyre, his brother and a sister.  Leo, Joe's brother drove a semi trailer truck to Florida each week, returning with citrus from Indian River and Bananas from Central America which came in by boat to Miami. Nowhere else in Asheville was such fresh, quality fruit available because the supermarkets did not exist at that time. Joe also brought in exotic (for Asheville at that time) fruits and vegetables from California. These included avocados which my Mother dearly loved. Each pay day I would buy her one. At that time – 1940, they cost $1.00. I suppose that is about $20.00 today. Transportation has changed our eating habits because an avocado still costs about $1.00. At that time I hated avocados but after living overseas where they grow wild, I have developed a taste for them also – particularly in guacamole.

Since this was at the tail end of the depression, I had been taught to be very frugal – a trait I lost somewhere along the line  – and , unknown to my family I opened a savings account at the First National Bank of Asheville.  I paid my expenses from my paper route so when I received my check from McIntyre I put most of it in the bank.

I was working full time during the summer so at the end, when school started I had about $250 in the account. This was more than my Father made in a month. One day my passbook fell out of my pocket on the sofa and I did not notice it. My Mother and my Sister found this and were astounded. My Mother casually suggested that I buy some clothes for school so – there went my savings but it did help the family quite a bit because I was still growing and last years clothes did not fit.

I had now graduated from Claxton elementary school and entered High School and I loved every minute of those 4 years. I was a Freshmen for three years. No, I didn't fail – it was a quirk of fate. At that time we had only 11 grades of school. 7 were in elementary (grammar) school and 4 in High School. During the depression Junior High had closed. When I entered Lee Edwards High School I was in the 8th grade. At the end of the year, Junior High was re-opened for one grade so I was a Freshman in the 9th grade. At the end of this year a second grade was moved to Junior High so I was a Freshman in the 10th grade. I graduated at age 16 because I had skipped 1/2 a grade in grammar school. This was not because I was smart but again a quirk of fate.

Today one must be 6 years old in September to enter the first grade. When I entered school, being born in January, I entered in grade 1-A in January. When I was in the 3rd grade this system was abandoned and we had entry to school only in September. Those of us in the “middle” had to either move up 1/2 grade or move back 1/2 grade. I was moved up so I gained 6 months on most of the normal graduates.

When I started High School I carried as heavy a schedule as was allowed. Most people had a “Study Hall” but I never took one, preferring instead to take both Band and Physical Education – both of which were electives. I loved sports and played everything, but not good enough to make either the varsity or to think of an athletic scholarship to college. My Mother, being a musician, wanted me to study piano. At this time any boy who played piano or took dancing classes was a “Sissy”. I have regretted my decision to bow to peer pressure to this day.

Because of my overbite, I was assigned to the clarinet and I played a very exuberant, if not inspired 3rd clarinet in the High School band. For graduation my family gave me an alto saxophone. I had never played sax before but I loved it. I began to play in the local dance bands. The first was formed by a transfer student from New Mexico. His name was Bob Shamaskin. He was known as “The Jerk from Albuquerque” but he was a nice guy and gave me my first chance.

After this band folded I joined one of my friends from Norwood Park who had become an accomplished trumpet player. His name was Arthur Weneje. During this era the bands were named after the leader. This was before we got names like the Grateful Dead, Three Dog Night, the Rolling Stones etc.

Our first job was for the graduation at the Asheville Normal School (this was what teacher's colleges were called in those days). We all griped a bit about being paid $2.50 for the evening but Art said “Listen, these people hired us without ever hearing us. This is our first job so play as best you can and we will get other jobs.”

We were pretty good for a young band and our next job was a debutante ball at the Vanderbilt Hotel. Here I first ran into Union problems. The local musicians union threatened to boycott the Hotel Vanderbilt for hiring a non union band. This came out in the newspaper under the headlines “Local Union Wants To Kill Ambitions of Teenagers” – so they never followed through.  But – we also never got another job at the Vanderbilt.

Our next job was on the local radio. Of course we were not paid for this. But as a result, we got a job playing for a Fraternity Dance in Spartanburg , SC the idea of getting an out of state job was unbelievable , particularly since we got $5.00 each plus expenses.

The band eventually broke up for lack of work and we all played “gigs” whenever we could and people who could not get a job at other time of the year could get one at Christmas. During the Christmas season and New Year there was always work because there were perhaps 3 bands in the area and 15 parties. Many times I went on a job and the first thing we did was to shake hands with the other members of the band and say “I am pleased to meet you”.  After the audience had a few drinks, the band sounded great.

World War II had now started and, being almost of age, we were all ready to go. I joined the Marine Corps in November of 1942 at age 17 but was not called up until July of 1943 when I graduated from Biltmore Junior College (now UNC- Asheville).

For reasons which I still don't understand, I was awarded a huge dictionary at graduation from Biltmore College for being the outstanding student. I still have it somewhere. My only regret is that, being caught off guard, I did not have a proper acceptance speech. What I should have said was “Ladies and Gentlemen, Distinguished Faculty and Guests, there are only 3 reasons why I have been accorded this honor. My sister is not here tonight because she is at school in Greensboro but the other two reasons are here. Please stand up Mom and Dad.” I hope all three can hear this, where ever they are.

I joined the Boy Scouts at age 12 and this was where I learned many things, which, joined with the principals taught to me by my family, church and school is probably why I did not find it necessary to carry a gun to school and shoot at random.

Being a Capricorn, I seemed to be singled out as a leader – although I never sought this. After about 2 months into Troop 4 I was picked to be the patrol leader of the Nighthawk Patrol at age 12. This consisted of 10 other kids and was no big deal – but I learned some things. In my first year at Boy Scout Camp there was a contest among all of the Patrols. The brand new Nighthawk patrol with its brand new patrol leader quickly fell behind. At one location we had to build a fire with two matches, at another we had to tie the proper knots to move a fallen tree etc. There was a counselor at each location and as we reached the one about 3 from the end, all other patrols had finished. I said to the counselor “We might as well quit. Everyone else has finished.” He replied “There is some honor in coming in last. There is no honor in quitting.” I have come in last a lot of times since then but I never quit.

One of the volunteer jobs I had was to hold the ropes around the greens at the first Land Of The Sky professional golf tournament. The favorite was Ralph Gudhal who had just won the US Open. He did not win because a young ex caddie by the name of Ben Hogan won his first tournament there.

I did not have dramatic talent but I was interested in the theater so I joined the stage crew in high school. The Lee Edwards High in Asheville always did well in drama, as well as football, and we went to the regional competition at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. Our entry was an original play, written by the drama teacher and it had a mountain theme. We on the stage crew had made the props which were the inside of a mountain cabin. One of the props had a gun rack which held a rifle. That particular prop warped on the trip down and we brought it back straight with a stage brace. Miss Welch was ecstatic with our ingenuity and we were proud. It was fine until the middle of the first act. The stage brace slipped, throwing the rifle onto the middle of the stage, almost decapitating the star of the show. For some reason, Miss Welch was no longer ecstatic and we were in the dog house – women are fickle.

After I graduated from high school I enrolled at Biltmore Junior College. The first year, 1941, at “Biltmore Tech” as we liked to call it, was situated in the first floor of the Asheville Normal School. Math had always been my easiest subject in High School and I usually did the homework, if at all, at the end of the class or when the teacher went over the homework at the beginning of the next class.  When I arrived in college I found the game plan was different. Homework was assigned and at the next class another topic was taken up. Quite often it was based on knowing what had been assigned for homework – I almost failed. I got on the ball and recovered because I remembered my experience in taking 4 semesters of Latin. I got an A, a B, a C and a D. Seeing the hand writing on the wall, I quickly switched to French class.

The second year, 1942, Biltmore Tech moved to an old orphanage. It was an ideal location for a school with several hundred people because the rooms had not been private so they were large enough for a classroom, there was office space and the yard was very large with beautiful oak trees. I had never cut a class in my life but on one gorgeous spring day, I could not resist. Instead of attending economics class, I retired to the lawn and propped myself up against one of the large oaks and let spring fever attack. In about 10 minutes Mr. Junuis Allison, the professor, brought the class outside to have class under the trees. Spotting me at the next tree he said, “Good afternoon Mr. Tilson. Would you care to join us?” My answer is rather obvious – so much for being a truant.

The male population and the faculty of Biltmore College was fast being depleted because of World War II. The math professor was called by the government for one of the agencies, the chemistry professor was hired by DuPont, the language professor (he taught both French and Spanish) was commissioned in the Navy, learned Japanese and was sent to the Pacific to de code intercepted messages and the Phys Ed teacher was called up by the Navy to train recruits.

The male student body was also being depleted by the draft. In 1942 our basketball squad consisted of 6 people. Since the PhysEd teacher had also been the coach, the ole Capricorn ended up being player/coach. Toward the end of the season, we almost won a game.

In October, 1942 we had a special assembly for the male students in which Recruiters from the various branches of service made their pitch to try to get enlistments. The Air Force outlined the glamour and excitement of flying, the Navy gave the old “see the world” bit, the Army stressed how one could learn a trade or a specialty. A Marine Captain stood up and said “I can't make the promises that the others have made. If you join the US Marine Corps you will probably get shot and wash up on the beach of some Pacific Island. But – if you are interested, I will be here as soon as the meeting ends.”

I signed up that day but was not called up until after graduation in July of 1943.

1943 – 1944

EMORY UNIVERSITY

July 1, 1943 I boarded a train for Atlanta to start my interesting time in the US Marine Corps. The Navy had started a program called “V 12″ as a preliminary to Officer Candidate School. The reason was that the armed forces were building so fast that officers and non commissioned officers cold not be trained as fast as they were taken in. V 12 was offered to individuals who qualified and were currently students in college.

Because this was a rather select group, the talent gathered was most invigorating. Because these people came from various schools and were all reasonably bright and physically fit individuals, it made for an interesting time. The good part for us, as participants, was that we were continuing our education although we were also being trained as Marines.

Emory was, and still is, an outstanding university of medicine and ministry. I dare say that it has never been the same since the V 12 of the Navy and Marine Corps descended upon it. We took over the dormitories and bunked 3 to a room in two tiered bunk beds. The good beds and mattresses were stored in the attic – which I later discovered and took a nap on a pile of 6 mattresses every afternoon. I seem to never get enough sleep and can sleep 10 hours every night – although I don't get to. Perhaps it is because my blood pressure runs low or maybe I am just lazy.

Our group had been drawn from the southeastern colleges while other groups in the north and west drew on students from their respective areas. Since Georgia Tech, across town, also had a V 12 unit, our group at Emory came mainly from smaller schools. Besides me and two others from “Biltmore Tech” we had people from Rollins, The University of the South, Bob Jones College, Furman, Newberry and a host of others whose names escape me at this time.

Our routine was a bit different from what I was used to. We were up at 6:00 am, ran one mile, showered and went to breakfast. Then we went to class just as regular college students until 3 pm from 3 to 5 we had close order drill, rifle instruction and ran 5 miles. Then we could play baseball or football until supper (not dinner). Study period was from 7 pm to 10 pm and lights out at 10 pm I have not been so healthy or in such good condition since.

As mentioned above, there was such a diversity of talent available that almost any kind of group could be formed. Word was put on the bulletin board that there was an inspection next month by high ranking officers from Washington and asking anyone interested to become a part of a marching band. In two weeks we had a reasonably good band, complete with an experienced drum major. To our chagrin, there were no majorettes available.

As an off shoot of this, there was a call for anyone interested in being a part of a dance orchestra which was being formed. I joined this along with some really good musicians and I learned a lot.

Since there was a shortage of men outside of the service, the girl's schools had a difficult time getting enough for the Christmas dances. My roommate, Adrian Testerman, knew a girl from Brenau and she invited him to attend the Christmas dance at the Tri Delta sorority and bring two friends. Hap Marshall and I gladly accepted.  Brenau is in Gainesville, Georgia so we took the train from Atlanta – about a one hour trip.

My blind date was Denny Williams. Denny was engaged to an Ensign and she was not overwhelmed with me nor I with her. I spent most of the time with her roommate, a vivacious young thing named Ann Sholes and as the Sicilians say, I was struck by the thunderbolt. I had a date with Ann the next day and we walked around Gainesville. Ann, always the adventurous type, did not tell me that the girls were prohibited from walking in the city without permission. We were accosted by an old maid teacher who ordered us back to the campus and told me “We think boys would rather marry Brenau girls who have been brought up properly. I replied, in my usual smart mouth way “I just came for the week end, I did not come to get married.” Little did I know that the old biddie was giving me an accurate forecast of the outcome. Ann was in her first year at Brenau but she was a sophomore. Her freshman year was at Stevens College in Missouri but with the cost and travel time involved in going from Lynchburg to Missouri, her parents felt it better that she get closer to home.

Ann and Denny came to Atlanta in a few weeks and we went to the Fox Theater to a movie – that was about all we could do. They returned the same night, after curfew and sneaked in a bottle of rum purchased in Atlanta. Someone squealed and they were campused for a month.

Toward the end of my assignment at Emory, Charlie Smith who had married my cousin Mary Madeline came through Atlanta. Charlie was an executive for FW Woolworth. He took me to dinner at the Biltmore hotel and asked if I liked shrimp cocktail. I said “Yes” but the truth is I had never had one… (Caviar was starting) he also took me to the Fox Theater, which is still the place in Atlanta for entertainment. The featured performer was Eddie Peabody, the King of the Banjo. Many years later while I was attending a meeting of the Fiber Box Association, Eddie was the featured entertainer. The president of the Association, after the cocktail hour had been in session, introduced him as follows: Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a rare treat for you tonight. Eddie Playbody is going to pee on his banjo.

Feeling like a man of the world, I wrote Ann and said “We probably won't see each other again but it has been fun.” She was distraught because now she had only 5 boyfriends instead of 6.

1944

DUKE UNIVERSITY

As more and more of the V-12 group were sent to Parris Island, Camp LeJeune and Quantico, the V-12 program began to contract and the operation at Emory was closed and after 6 months at Emory the remaining personnel were sent to Duke.

Another marvelous opportunity to attend a first rate University.

We were at Duke only 3 months but it was fun, interesting and educational. There was a dance band in existence there and I joined it and was asked to switch from alto to baritone sax. This was because I was not very good and no one wanted to play baritone but I did it quite well. There I learned that a baritone sax really does not play with the sax section. The arrangements were written so that the baritone plays kind of a counter melody with the trombones and bass.

It was also there that I had my first beer. Having been raised in the Methodist church, any alcohol was forbidden and even at communion they gave grape juice instead of wine. This is how Mr. Welch, who was a devout Methodist, started his company “Welch's Grape Juice”. After reading the Bible I found that Jesus drank wine so who am I do otherwise?

The Duke campus at that time was split – one part was for males and one part was for females. There was a bus which took us to the girl's campus but we had to register to enter. How times change. There was also a large bronze statue at the entrance of the girls campus of Mr. Duke seated. The legend at that time was that the statue would stand up if a virgin entered.  Today he would probably remain seated but times were different then.

There I also learned a bit about people. We were told that the workers who cleaned the halls (we cleaned our own rooms) would ask us for a loan. The people “in the know” said “If they ask for a loan of $5.00, don't loan it to them because they will dodge you forever. But, instead, give them a $1.00 and they will be forever loyal”. Think about it.

I always seemed to have two close friends. I have found that this is about the total number of close friends one can have even though you may have hundreds of acquaintances. My two close friends at that time were Harrison “Hap” Marshall and Adrian Testerman. Adrian was dating a girl on the other campus whose name was “Bobbie”. A delightful, intelligent and very rich girl. Unfortunately, she was born with an eye problem and Hap and I would say “Are you still dating Cross?”

After the war, Adrian married Bobbie and Hap and I were humiliated since we were invited to the wedding.  I am still in touch with Hap who lives in Greenville, SC but we have not seen each other for a long time. To my distress, I found that Adrian and Bobbie had divorced, Adrian married a second time and passed away a few years ago. Our reunion, which we had planned for years, will have to wait.

So – on to

1944

PARRIS ISLAND

There have been many books written and movies made about Boot Camp in the Marines and it is something special and is part of the reason for the reputation of the Corps. It was tough but perhaps we had it a little easier than a raw recruit coming in cold. The job of the drill instructors (D I's) was to instill blind discipline (which they surely did), teach us to march and strip an M-1 rifle. We already knew how to do the last two so their job was easier. For this reason, we perhaps did not get as much abuse as is normal. However, I do remember when I lost my locker key. The punishment for this was to put a bucket over your head, run up and down before the Platoon flapping your arms like wings and yelling “I am a shit bird from Yemassee, I lost my locker key”. Yemassee was a small town on the mainland across from Parris Island. Our train stopped there on the way from Durham to Parris Island and it was not exactly the Orient Express. There was such a shortage of rail cars that everything which would run was pressed into service. Ours had kerosene lamps and a pot bellied stove for heat. Although we griped about this, the guys from the First Division who were on Guadalcanal would have swapped with us gladly.

This was when I first learned of Government Morals. I had always been taught “Thou shalt not steal”. When we reported, we were issued two sheets and a blanket for the bunks. When I went in to my assigned bunk, there was no blanket. I reported this to the DI he said “I signed for all of these blankets so you will not go to lunch with the rest of the Platoon but when we get back from lunch I expect to see a blanket on your bunk”.  The message was clear and while everyone was a lunch I went to the next Platoon and stole a blanket. How many times this happened and who finally ended up without a blanket, I do not know.

One of our lessons in Boot Camp was to learn how to box. The assistant DI said “Today we are going to learn to box. Are there any professional boxers here?”  No hands were raised. Are there any Golden Glove Boxers here?” Two hands were raised. “You two fall out”. “Are there any college boxers here?”  4 hands were raised. “You 4 fall out”. “Are there any street fighters here?' Two hands were raised. “You 2 fall out”.  “Now, after eliminating these people, I assume that I know more about boxing than you.” and he proceeded to give us a lesson from which even the pros and amateurs learned something because it was not just boxing but total self defense. He taught us that, if the Marcus of Queensbury rules don't apply, a blow to the Adam's apple, a kick on the knee, a stomp on the instep and other areas which shall remain unmentionable, is more effective than a right cross to the jaw.

Our DI's were very good and honorable but tough. Some were not so honorable. One of my staff when I was in China told me a story about when he was in Boot Camp. In the barracks there was a walled off section where the DI lived. My friend told me that one night when they had just come back from “chow”, the DI was in his room. In a loud voice he said “I had $5.00 and I was going over to the NCO club to drink some beer but I lost the $5.00 somewhere – so, I guess we will have to stay here and have a field day (which meant scrubbing the floor with toothbrushes).

One of the recruits yelled out “I found 50 cents of your $5.00. Another chimed in “I found 75 cents” until the entire $5.00 appeared and the DI had his evening and the boots had some rest.

After 4 weeks we earned the ultimate privilege – going to a movie.  The screen was outdoors and we arranged our selves in the sand. If you build up a little mound behind your back, it can be quite comfortable sitting in the sand. Before we went we asked “What is on at the movie?”

The DI's always replied “12 rounds of grab ass starring Shirley Temple and Boris Karloff.” I guess this was part of their training – but you know, the expression “Grab Ass” was pretty accurate when applied correctly. If you remember when you were a pre teenager, all of the boys were constantly tripping each other, pushing each other, grabbing each other and fretting the girls. Other, more civilized persons than Marines probably called this “Horse Play”.

Before I leave Parris Island I must speak of the sand fleas. The environmentalist will tell you that every living thing on earth has a reason for being. If the sand flea has a reason, it must be to pester Marines at Boot Camp. When you are in formation at attention, you cannot move a muscle. If a sand flea crawls up you nose, as they are prone to do, all you can do is swallow them. At any formal parade on Parris Island you would hear “snuff, snuff” – indicating that another sand flea had bitten the dust – or at least the digestive tract. Are they rich in protein? Only the DI Knows.

Then we graduated and received the rank of PFC – Private First Class!!

This meant $5.00 per month raise and an attitude of superiority over the poor buck private.

Also, if you shot Expert on the rifle range this meant another $2.50 per month plus a medal.

And – off to Camp Lejeune to learn how to kill Japs (although we did not really want to kill anybody – except for a few DI's)

1944-1945

CAMP LEJEUNE (1)

Although I did not realize it, this was to be my first time at Camp Lejeune. It is perhaps the largest base in the Marine Corps and is situated in the eastern part of North Carolina, close to Jacksonville NC and not too far from Wilmington NC How many square miles it encompasses I do not know but it numbers in the hundreds of thousands and borders on the Atlantic Ocean and the Inland Waterway.

We were put in Companies according to our age (which at that time was 19 for me and the others in our company). We now had a collar adornment which said “OCS”.  This stood for Officer Candidate School. Needless to say, the other troops training at Camp LeJeune did not like us very much.

One thing I have found in war time is that those who survive do not talk about the terrible things which happen but about the funny things. I recall that we had maneuvers in the Boondocks and we had a box lunch. This consisted of a ham sandwich with mayonnaise. Having been in the heat for a long time, when we ate the sandwich, it got all of us.

Upon returning to the barracks, it hit us. After much study by architects and engineers it was determined that toilet facilities are needed for 5% of the group involved. When 100% have the “Green Apple Quick Step”, 5% ain't enough. I recall going into our own bathroom which had about 10 toilets and saying “Please get up”. The occupant would say” I would like to but I can't”.

Then I would go to the next barracks and say “Please get up”. The occupant would say” I would like to but I can't”.

Statistics do not always work.

My Mother sent me some candy and I ate it all in one night. The next day I had a stomach ache. I went to sick bay and asked for some medicine. The doctor said “Let me check you”. He punched on my stomach and I almost jumped through the ceiling. He said “You have acute appendicitis. I am sending you to the hospital”. I was put in a truck with a group of prisoners who were also going to the hospital. We arrived at the hospital and sat on benches, waiting. After about 2 hours they got to me and asked for the papers I was carrying. The nurse said “My God, you have acute appendicitis. Get on this stretcher”. I was sent to the operating room and operated on immediately. Instead of stitches I had staples. These rusted and gave me some problems. I don't think the surgeons use these anymore. I was in a ward of about 150 others, most of whom were gunshot wounds from Guadalcanal so I felt kind of inferior – but it was a fun group. When the lights went out there were always jokes and songs – mostly vulgar. After about 4 days I was up on my feet and was assigned to clean the bathroom even though I could not straighten up.  One day, after mopping the bathroom a Lieutenant Nurse came in and said “This is not good enough. Do it over”. As she left I said “Bitch”. She said “What did you say?” I said “I have an itch under the scar”.

After two weeks the doctor came in and said “There is a hospital in your home town of Asheville. We can send you there for two months to recuperate”. I declined this because I would lose my class and would fall behind. If I had accepted this I probably would not have gone to Guam or China. Was I smart or stupid?

We worked hard and learned a lot. The war was in full force in Europe and the Pacific. We were headed for the Pacific and we knew it.

I began to write to Ann again and while she was still preoccupied with other suitors, I was still enchanted. To my surprise and pleasure, I found that because of transportation and cost to Brenau, she had transferred to Mary Washington College in Fredericksburg, Va. which was close to Quantico where I was going next.

1945

QUANTICO

I arrived in Quantico and, although it was tough, I enjoyed it thoroughly. This was Officers Candidate School so we had a few amenities which we did not have in Parris Island or  Camp LeJeune. We ate at tables for four with chairs instead of a long table on benches and we were called “Mister”. The best part was the quality of the instructors.

Although our primary purpose was to learn to kill people, we also learned the skills of leadership and organization. Both of these principles apply to life in any field. Since that time, I have been interested in the principles of leadership and organization which are put forth by many prominent people. I am not a great student of the Bible but if I remember correctly, Moses, who was known for his leadership, found himself bogged down in settling disputes among his subjects and did not have time to govern. He went to his father in law whose name was (I think) Jethro. Jethro said “Make men captains of tens, captains of hundreds and captains of thousands – then you work with the captains of thousands but don't forget the individuals. This has remained a principle of the military, business and government.

General Eisenhower said “Leadership is a business of push and pull. If you put a piece of string on the table and push it, it will fold up. If you pull it, it will follow you. If you want a promotion, you must push the person above you to create a spot for your promotion but – you must also pull the person below you to fill your spot so that you can be promoted.”

Henry Ford, who did not invent the automobile but who did invent mass production, was once asked by reporters “Mr. Ford, are you an engineer?”  He replied ” No, but I can push this button on my desk and the best 10 engineers in the country will be here in 10 minutes”. He was not afraid to surround himself with good people.

Again, at Quantico, we had a relatively easy time compared to the people who came in cold. There was a program where applicants came in directly from civilian life and had to be taught all of the basics of being a Marine. We had been in V-12 for a year, in Parris Island for 10 weeks and Camp Lejeune for a year. This made it easy for the instructors so they made it (relatively) easy on us.

As in all walks of life there are tragedies but in the military there are more than normal. My fist view of a dead person was at Quantico. We went into the field to be shown how to blow a tank trap with explosives. We were perhaps 1/2 mile away and when the charge was set off great pieces of rock and dirt were blown into the air. The explosive was too big and rocks began to rain down on us. One large rock, the size of a basketball hit one of our platoon on the head. He was perhaps 20 feet away from me. He died instantly.  This was my first real insight into the horrors of war – but it happens on the highway at the rate of 50,000 per year.

I called Ann and arranged our first date as soon as I had a free week end. I went to the train station to go to Fredericksburg and was hit by the “Gallops”. I went to sick bay and they gave me paregoric. This stopped the problem but I felt terrible. When I got to Mary Washington I went through the grilling that the house mothers used to do and they called Ann. I shall never forget her running down the hall, dressed in a gray flannel skirt, a pink angora sweater, pink angora bobby socks and loafers. She threw her arms around me and gave me a big hug. I was hooked.

We began to meet in Washington, DC which was a short train ride for both of us. Ann stayed with her Aunt and Uncle – Bill Clarkson who was a Colonel stationed at the Pentagon. Colonel Clarkson was very self confident gentlemen and many called him arrogant – but I liked him. He was in the army before the war started and was a Warrant Officer. I don't know if this rank still exists but at that time it was between “enlisted” and “officer”. When the war started he was promoted to a commissioned officer – a Captain I think – and was sent on a special mission to General Clair Chennault's “Flying Tigers”. They were volunteers fighting with China against the Japanese. Colonel Clarkson got sick and was flown to Hong Kong for treatment. While he was there, the Japanese attacked and all of the Americans were taken prisoner. Bill told me they spent 5 days on the roof of the American Embassy firing at the Japanese Zeros with 45 caliber pistols.  This is like a bullfighter attacking a bull with a pen knife but it was all they could do. Hong Kong fell and they were captives. For about one year, he was missing in action as far as his family knew. During his captivity he drew up some “official” documents transferring himself to the diplomatic corps. After about a year there was a negotiation whereby the diplomats were returned to the USA on a Swedish ship – I think it was the Gripsholm – and he was on it. While the ship was leaving the harbor his subterfuge was discovered and the Japanese tried to stop the ship but the captain would not turn back so Bill returned to the USA.

He was sent to the Walter Reid Army hospital at Bethesda because of under nourishment. After checking him, the doctor said “We have to get some weight back on you. To help your appetite, what would you like to drink before dinner?”  He said “I would like a Scotch and soda”.  – and that was his medicine. It don't get no better than this in the hospital

I called Ann for a date in Washington and this was before direct dialing. The operator said ” President Roosevelt just died'. I got the news before it came out in the papers and CNN was not in operation at that time.

At that time a hotel room in Washington was almost impossible to get but we had a system. The Willard hotel, an old but famous hotel always had suites available. Five of us would go together to rent a suite and although there were only two beds. We would sleep on the floor, sofa or wherever. Since we did not sleep much on the weekends it really did not matter. One weekend Ann did not have permission to visit her Aunt and Uncle but she came to Washington anyway. Her friend came with her and others in our group at the Willard had girl friends. We all stayed in the suite. Fear not – this was not an orgy. We were of a different generation so we moved the mattresses off the bed and two girls slept on the springs, two on the mattresses and the guys slept on the floor. Since one bed was in one room and one in the other, we had to pass the mattresses through the window since they would not go through the door. We were on the 12th floor. The next morning Ann and I went to have breakfast at a diner across from the hotel. We looked up and saw a mattress being passed from one room to the other on the 12th floor. Fortunately the management was not looking.

On another week end, Ann told me she was “campused” and could not meet me in Washington. I called Sara Bohannon, a good friend and ex classmate at Biltmore Tech who was going to George Washington University. We met and had a good time re hashing old times – nothing romantic. I had always wondered what Sara's father did since they lived in Grove Park, belonged to the Country Club and traveled a lot. I found that he was a lobbyist for the oil industry – an occupation which I am sure is on going.

It turned out that Ann was not “Campused” but was meeting an old high school  boy friend. My friend, Fred Williams bumped into them accidentally and talked Ann into returning on the same train with us. To my surprise, when I went to the station to meet Fred, there was Ann. Stan Kenton was playing a concert at Quantico that night and I asked Ann to get off at Quantico and go to see Kenton because he had Anita O'Day singing with him and she was great. It was strictly prohibited for any girl from Mary Washington to get off at Quantico – but you know Annie – so she did. We were disappointed to find that Anita O'Day had left the band but her replacement was June Christie who went on to her own fame in the Jazz world. We got Ann safely on the late train and she managed to conceal her activities from the Wardeness at the school.

Finally, in June of 1945, graduation day came. I invited Ann to attend. She really wanted to go to the graduation of her favorite cousin, Billy Clarkson at West Point but Billy talked her into coming to Quantico because he was to be married right after graduation and Ann would not really get to see him. I have been grateful to Billy but I never got to meet him. He was killed in a fighter plane crash in Germany.

Ann returned to Asheville with me on the Southern Railroad – what used to be a fine form of transportation. She stayed for one glorious week and when she returned to Lynchburg, I left for Camp Pendleton.

We were allowed the equivalent of train fare from Quantico to Los Angeles with 5 days per diem for meals but the option of how to get there was open. I elected to go by plane – my first trip in the air.

1945

CAMP PENDLETON

I caught American Airlines from Knoxville, Tennessee to LA It was on a DC 3 and took 18 hours. I thought it was incredible. Upon arrival, being a Jazz fan, I went to the Hollywood Palladium to hear Les Brown. Doris Day was singing with him at the time.

The next day I reported to Camp Pendleton and began 2 months of Troop Leaders School. Most civilians think the military spends its time shooting and crawling through the mud – and there is plenty of this – but a great deal of time in training officers is spent on learning how to instruct your troops and to make effective plans. There are many incompetent leaders (and followers) in the military but when the chips are down the cream comes to the top and an Eisenhower, Patton, Bradley, Vandergrift, Puller or hundreds of others emerge. The skills I learned there stood me in good stead later in life in business. I had always wanted to be a teacher anyway but I had to wait for my son and granddaughter to fulfill this ambition.

We worked 6 days and had 2 days off so our “weekends” moved up one day each week. This was the pattern in all of the military installations in the area. If a normal 5 day week had been in effect, the number of service men descending on Hollywood, LA and San Diego at one time would have sunk the southern coast of California.

Our normal routine during these two months was to go to the Hollywood Palladium the first night of our pass, meet some girls, dance and do whatever your morals dictated (mine were pretty dull), save enough money to go to Laguna Beach  to drink beer and body surf in the wonderful waves at this beach. I should point out that even though I was a Marine Lieutenant, I could not buy a drink in California because the age limit was 21 and I was 20. Being of sound mind and body and being thirsty I changed my birth date on my ID card from 1925 to 1923 with one stroke of the pen. Also, it was most embarrassing to invite a young lady to dinner and have the waiter refuse to serve you a drink.

One week end a friend asked me to join him in La Jolla which was just north of San Diego (and is now part of metropolitan San Diego). Having no knowledge of Spanish, I was hearing “Lahoya”. I went on the bus, missed the sign and ended up in San Diego.

Then came our orders to pack up and paint “DUVA” on our sea trunks and sea bags.  This was a top secret code but everyone seemed to know it meant “Guam”.

1945

GUAM

We boarded ship in San Diego and became part of one of the most costly mistakes in World War II (of which , I am sure, there were many). The ship was an AKA and the only cargo was 21 brand new, wet behind the ears, Marine Second Lieutenants. While we were zig zaging across the Pacific for 28 days, the atomic bomb was dropped. The crew, knowing that we were the only cargo on a ship which would hold a battalion and equipment, were convinced that we were specialists connected to the atomic program. After denying this for a week, we finally began to say, “Yes, but it is top secret and we can't talk about it”.

Upon arriving on Guam, we were all sent to the Transit Center which consisted of a series of tents with wooden floors. We waited, we waited and we waited. Guam had been “secure” for over a year after the Marines landed there and on Tinian which was close by but there were a number of Japanese in the Jungle who did not get the word that the Island had been captured. From time to time, some of these would be captured and they always wore Marine green underwear which they had stolen off the clothes lines at various locations.

To break the monotony of waiting, I decided to hitchhike to North Field to see where some of the planes had taken off for Tokyo. As I recall, the planes carrying the Atomic Bombs had left from Tinian or Saipan and had landed on the return at Okinawa (they did not have fuel to get all the way back). This explained why taking Okinawa had been so important. While on Guam we saw the battle plan for the invasion of Japan with the estimate of hundreds of thousands of casualties. Thanks to Harry Truman's decision to drop the bombs, I am still alive.

While I was standing on the road waiting for a Jeep or truck to come by and give me a lift to North Field, there was a great crashing sound in the jungle. I was unarmed and assumed that a Japanese soldier was coming out. Instead, a huge water buffalo with big horns emerged. He looked at me, I looked at him. He turned and retreated into the jungle. Only the laundry man and I will know how scared I was.

We were finally assigned to a unit. Five of us were assigned to the 2nd battalion, 22nd Marines. Later, after I was promoted to First Lieutenant and became a human being in the eyes of the enlisted men, the First Sergeant told me that when the 5 of us reported he said “My God, here is the basketball team from Podunk High School”.

Adrian Testerman was in our group and he was assigned to be the Adjutant. I was assigned to be S-2, Combat Intelligence Officer. He and I did some “networking” and found that Hap Marshall had landed and was assigned to the 29th Marines across the Island. We walked over and had a good reunion.

We received orders to pack up and leave for China. I was given a work detail with the second platoon of company D to load the ship. Up until this time, the only command I had had was a platoon or a company made up of officer candidates. All of these were eager to do well and get good grades from the instructors so if you gave a command or instruction, they did their best to comply. How naive can you get when entering the real world?

I marched the Platoon to the dock and met the crane operator. He was leaving for supper and would be back in one hour. He also told me that I needed only half the platoon at one time so I divided them up in group 1 and group 2 and told them to relax until the crane operator returned. When he returned I called out “Group one, fall in”. After several shouts with no action, I began to look around. I found one Marine under a tarpaulin drinking pineapple juice which he had found in the shipment and had opened with a bayonet. When I asked if he were in group one he of course said “No.” Wising up, I found some more, here there and yonder. I would ask which group they were in and when they replied either one or two, I would say “Fall in, your group is working.” In this manner I had gathered up about 10 people. I went to search for more and when I returned there was no one there. I then found another eating corned beef which he had discovered in the shipment. I asked his name and when he gave it I said “Private, you have 10 minutes to find your platoon sergeant.  He reported in about 2 minutes. I told him to locate both groups and have them fall in. He yelled “Alright, all you SOB's from the first platoon, company D, fall in.”  They came from all directions and this was the last time I by passed a chain of command.

We completed loading and left for China.

1945-1946

CHINA

After about three days at sea we ran into a Typhoon. Ropes were tied on the deck for those who had to go out but most stayed inside. Sleeping was difficult because of the pitching and rolling. When we looked out the portholes at other ships in the convoy, it appeared the Destroyer Escorts were going under. They would disappear behind the waves and then break water like a fish jumping. I am told that even the sailors with much time aboard did not make a meal for three days. We had a Chinese interpreter attached to Division Intelligence and he was sick the whole time. Fearing for his health, we finally convinced him to come to a meal. In the officers wardroom the plates were placed upside down and were turned over for serving when you sat down. This poor fellow turned his plate over and promptly threw up in it. The rest of the table rose, as if on command, and retired.

The fourth day the storm passed and we spent much time on deck watching the flying fish (they don't have those in Asheville, NC) I was standing by a Gunnery Sergeant who had previously been in China in the 30's. I said “Gunny, how will we know when we are getting close?” He replied “You will smell it.”

We were prepared for a combat landing because there were several divisions of Japanese in Tsingtao and we were not sure they had gotten the word that the war was over. However, we received radio messages from the Chinese military that all was quiet so we docked in the harbor. To make sure everything was calm we sent a reconnaissance platoon ashore. This was commanded by a lieutenant who was known by the name of “Whiskey”. This had come from the Okinawa campaign where he was famed for always finding something to drink.

Whiskey was gone for some time with no radio messages and we began to be concerned. He finally returned, without his hat. The welcome from the Chinese was joyful and his jeep had been surrounded by a group of “Ladies of the Night.” They sang out “Fuckee ?, Suckee?” to which Whiskey replied “Both.”

We disembarked and took over Shantung University which had been the Japanese Naval Academy. Field grade officers were quartered in houses outside the compound. We junior officers were 8 to a room in what had been class rooms. There appeared on the scene a Chinaman dressed in a long white gown, just like in the movies. He spoke a little English since he had been houseboy to the Marines in the 30's. He asked for a job as our houseboy and I hired him. He cleaned our room, shined our boots and we taught him to clean our weapons.  This was soon discovered by a Major and since the Field grade officers did not have a house boy, we were ordered to fire him. In about two months, everyone, including the non coms had house boys and we were allowed to re hire our friend.

Our mission was to send the Japanese back to Japan but first we had to take a formal surrender. This took place on the grounds of the local race track. Our division stood in ranks while the Japanese officers paraded by our commanding General and place their swords in a huge pile. (These became souvenirs which were given out by rank. There weren't enough to filter down to 2nd lieutenants.) This ceremony, which was quite impressive, was very tiring. We were at parade rest for over 4 hours in the hot sun. Viewed from the front of the ranks, it was a very orderly, military sight. But – a plane took aerial photos and from about the fifth row back, guys were sitting down, lounging and smoking. When these came out the general's staff spent weeks identifying who was where in each company.

We soon found that the local Generals in the Chinese army were responsible for funding their own armies. This resulted  not only in taxes but there were groups of Chinese soldiers who were going into the European sector, entering the house at gun point and taking whatever was available. We started patrols, day and night, in this sector to prevent this. Most of the European population was white Russians who had been in Tsingtao for years. There were also a few English and French. Most of these were sent back to their own country by the Chinese government and it was tough because many had never been to their own country.

Chang was still in charge at that time but the Communists controlled all of China except those cities where there was a Marine contingent. Besides Tsingtao, we had units in Shanghai and Tientsin. Because of this we had to set up a defense line around the airport and around the whole city. We had gun positions and fox holes prepared and could move out to these in a very short time. Because of some sniping and other activity, we were called to move to these positions several times – usually a 2 or 3:00 in the morning.

On one such trip, as day light crept up, I noticed something moving in the trees. I went to investigate and found a Chinaman hanging, an apparent suicide. His possessions were on the ground – a pipe, a small amount of tobacco and a small pocket knife and from his clothing he was obviously a poor peasant. I did not touch anything and upon our return, I reported this to my counterpart in the Chinese intelligence. We went back to these positions three days later and I found that the poor fellow was still hanging but his meager belongings were gone and his clothes had been stolen. I returned to the city, strapped on a .45 pistol (which I normally did not carry), went to the police station and demanded that someone accompany me to the site, cut the poor fellow down and bury him – and they did.

I tried to get one of the trips on an LST returning the Japanese troops to Japan but they always went with a staff sergeant in charge so I never saw Japan except when I was leaving on a ship for home, I got a glimpse of  Mount Fujiama .

After all of the Japanese had been returned we really did not have much to do. We had close order drill in the mornings and were encouraged to participate in sports in the afternoon. I played a lot of tennis – not exactly the thing you brag about when asked about your military service.

I had the good fortune to report to Captain Jack Marston, an excellent officer and later a good friend. Jack was the son of General John Marston who was the Commandant of Camp Lejeune when I was there. Needless to say, I did not know the General.  Jack was one of the older more experienced officers – he was 25. Our battalion commander, Colonel Stephens was known affectionaly as “The Old Man”. He was 28. I had my 21st birthday in Tsingtao. As best I can remember, it was a fine party and used up our ration of two bottles of bourbon per month for several months.

Since the war was over, many officers who had been desk bound were anxious to have overseas service on their records and many applied. Most of them were excellent officers who, through no fault of their own or because of a special skill, were assigned to Washington. Some were just opportunists. One of the latter was a Major assigned to the Regimental Intelligence Section and when I had the duty as Officer of the Day, he called and said he wanted to accompany me on the inspection of all of the guard posts.

We started at the dock and as our jeep approached we were halted and asked for the password. I gave this and we drove up to the sentry, an old country boy from Tennessee. He said “Evenin' Lt. Tilson, evenin' Major and I replied “Good evening, Herman. Everything quiet here?” “Yessir, no action.” The Major looked at the paper listing all of the guard posts and said “Private this is a two man post. I am going to report your partner for deserting his post!!”  To which Herman replied “Oh he ain't deserted his post Major. We seen you coming and didn't know who you was. He's in that clump of bushes over yonder and he's got an M-1 rifle pointed right at your head.“ To my credit, I was able to stifle my laughter.

Buck Thalheimer, a friend from Quantico, and I became friends with Mr. Yen Chi Dong, a wealthy Chinese merchant who had a big house right outside of our compound. As was the custom, we would take him to dinner one night and the next time was his turn. His beautiful young wife, who I saw by accident once in his house, never was present but his brothers and his mother quite often joined us. Once we went to a restaurant which had 5 floors. It got better as the floors increased. The first floor was for walk in patrons and the fifth, where we ate, was all private dining rooms with each person having a waitress. My waitress had gold teeth and was ugly by any standards. Mr. Yen offered her to me if I wished. Besides her being ugly, I had been so frightened by the training films on VD that I had no interest.

I defended several enlisted men as a result of my reputation on Guam. I had forgotten about this until 1993 when I was handling a loan with option to buy for Cartonera Hernandez. The negotiation was with Union Camp (recently bought by International Paper) and I was thrown against some of the finest lawyers in the USA and Dominican Republic. This resulted in the following letter:

November 15, 1993

To: Dr. Ramon Caceres – Troncoso y Caceres

Mr. Jeffery Fraum Esq. – Counsel – Union Camp

Mr. William Lets Esq. – Counsel – Bank of New York

Lic. Georges  Santoni – Herridia Bonetti

Mr. Victor Alvarez Esq. – White & Case

Mr. Donald Baker Esq.  -  White & Case

From: MB Tilson

Gentlemen,

We have successfully completed the negotiations between Cartonera Hernandez and Union Camp/Bank of New York for the $15 million transaction.

As I recall, the gestation period of an elephant is quite long so I think we have given birth to an elephant rather than a baby.

During this extended period I sent many lawyer jokes to Jeff but perhaps the best joke of the whole transaction was when Jeff sent me a package addressed to “MB Tilson, Esquire”.

Georges Santoni , who received a copy, called me and said “Are you a lawyer?”

I told him it was a joke from Jeff but after I hung up the phone I realized that I was a lawyer before any of you.

In 1945 I was serving as combat intelligence officer for the 22nd Marine Regiment on Guam. We were scheduled for a combat landing on the mainland of Japan but, thanks to the atomic bombs, we were diverted to China instead.

Since Guam was secure, except for a few Japanese in the jungle who would not believe the war was over, we allowed the men to go on liberty into the small villages on the island.

One of the men in my section was put in the brig and was scheduled for a court martial for “lewd and lascivious conduct unbecoming a Marine”.

When I asked his friends what he had done they said “He was waving his dick at a gook girl” (The Marine fighting man was not very reverent).

This was before the Code of Military Justice went into effect and the custom was to appoint an officer as defense attorney. The legal officer of the Regiment acted as the prosecutor. I was appointed as defense attorney and so, I became a lawyer in 1945.

Several of you were not born at that time and I am sure none of you were yet lawyers.

I was eminently qualified for this since I was 20 years old and had spent the last three years learning to kill people.

But – I did learn the dilemma which you attorneys face when your duty is to defend your client even though you know, or at least suspect, that he is guilty.

In this case the client readily admitted that he had indeed done this but he had not been arrested at the scene. The MP's came for him only after the young lady reported him.

He further stated that she had decided not to appear against him and that his story to the Military Police was that he was not in the city but was visiting his brother who was on a submarine which had arrived at the port in Guam.

Since I knew, or at least thought, that the burden of proof was on the prosecution, my defense was as follows:

I did not let him testify. I submitted to the court the record showing that he was off the base on authorized liberty. I entered into the record his statement about visiting his brother on a submarine. He did not name the submarine because the coming and going of submarines was top secret at that time.

Since the young lady did not wish to testify and since the court could not disprove the submarine story, I rested my case.

He was convicted anyway and sentenced to six months in the brig with loss of pay for this time.

After two months, the verdict was reversed by the Judge Advocate General's Office in Washington for lack of evidence. He was released and his pay restored.

The consensus of the men in the Regiment was that he should have been punished but after 2 months in the brig with 10 days on cake and ale (which you civilians would call bread and water), this was enough. Besides, having been in the Pacific for three years, all he was doing was advertising which is nothing but good business.

The word of the reversal spread through the Regiment and, after reaching China, I defended several more cases. I was known to the men as the “Perry Mason of the 22nd Marines”.

So you see, Gentlemen, I am not a lawyer but I used to be.

Vennlig hilsen

Having not much to do, we organized a dance band and played at the enlisted club twice a week. The men were allowed to bring Chinese girls to these dances. Three of us were officers and were not supposed to be in the enlisted club so we took off the bars on our collar. Since there were no stripes on our sleeves, we appeared to be buck privates and quite often had to take a lot of lip from drunk corporals. Occasionally a fight would break out between sailors and Marines. The only way to stop it was to start playing The Star Spangled Banner. When the National Anthem was being played, all service men were required to stand at attention and salute. Francis Scott Key never knew how many broken bones, black eyes and bloody noses he would prevent.

I met an English journalist who had been sent to cover the operation. He encouraged me to enter the Diplomatic service when I returned home and finished my education. I asked him why he thought I could be a diplomat and he said ” When we have been playing bridge (which I was just learning) I have seen you open the bidding with two no trump without anything in your hand. As the hand progressed I could see no emotion to indicate that you were in trouble so I made many mistakes, assuming you had something hidden.” I sometimes wish I had taken his advice.

Then came the day we all had waited for. On the bulletin board was posted the names of those returning. These were listed in order of time spent overseas and my name was pretty close to the top since the real veterans of Iwo Jima, Okinawa etc. had already been sent home when the war ended. Also a chance came up for us to fly in Marine Corps fighter planes as passengers to Shanghai, Tientsin and Hong Kong. I did not take this because I was afraid of missing the next ship home. Adrian Testerman took a more logical approach saying “I'll never get this chance again and a few more months won't make any difference.” He took the trip and when he returned I was still waiting for the boat.

One reason I declined was that I had sent Ann an engagement ring and a wedding ring. I don't think I had ever formally proposed but she accepted and sent me a newspaper clipping with her picture and the engagement announcement. She still had a number of boys after her and she continued to date. Absence makes the heart grow fonder – but of whom??  Fortunately for me, when she met me in Asheville upon my return, she agreed completely.

We got word that we were going to pull out and we who remained were transferred to the Sin Wah Hotel. We were there for three weeks while we were loading the ship and the waiters and clean up people were fabulous. You could leave money on the table by the bed and nothing happened. But – the night before we left everyone knew we were leaving at 6:00 am. That morning every watch, fountain pen, wallet and money was gone – as were the waiters, cooks and clean up personnel.

I was in charge of loading the equipment for our Battalion on the ship. I was up for 36 hours and after boarding I slept for 16 hours straight. When I awakened, we were at sea.  A few days later we passed by Japan – but far away – but I did get a glimpse of the top of Mount Fujiyama – Spectacular.

We were on a ship with 5,000 men and the routine for the men was to eat breakfast and then get in line for lunch and after lunch, get in line for supper. Since I had been in charge of loading the ship the Colonel excused me from being on guard duty as officer of the day. Instead, he placed me in charge of the laundry. Can you imagine having to sort out green underwear, all identical except for the name stenciled on them, for 5,000 men?  He did me no favors.

Most of our band was on the ship so we re-organized and played on the fan tail each night. This would normally have been cocktail hour but, as you know, American ships are dry (at least they were after the booze sneaked aboard ran out).

Again we by passed Hawaii. I guess we were the only group going to the Pacific which did not stop in Hawaii going or coming. I am sorry I missed it.

One morning we were awakened by the fact that the ship was not moving. Coming on deck we sighted the lushest vegetation I had ever seen. After having been in China for a year and at sea for about 24 days, the sight of greenery was wonderful. We were anchored off Panama, ready to enter the Canal. This took all day and we all stood on deck watching. I would like to do it again someday because it is an experience which I shall never forget.

After passing through the Canal, we anchored on the Atlantic side and were told we would have two days liberty. The paymaster said we could draw whatever pay we had coming if we wished. I had $50.00 so I assumed that this was plenty. After returning the first night and having prowled all of the night clubs, I and many others had to go to the paymaster and ask for more. All of the clubs had girls who would come to the table, dance with the Marines and engage in lively conversation.  Of course we were expected to buy the girls drinks and, being young and naive, I did not know they were drinking tea and not bourbon.

The young Latin lovely for whom I had been buying drinks suddenly stood up and said “Excuse me, I am on.” In about 3 minutes she came on stage and did a most erotic strip tease on top of a drum. When she returned to the table, I did not know quite what to do. I guess I was like Gomer Pyle.

Having been raised in the South, perhaps the most astounding thing to me was to see black people speaking Spanish. In my town when you get past “Que horas son?” you are bilingual.

We boarded ship and headed for Norfolk, VA. After about 3 days we were off the coast of Virginia Beach where I would later spend happy vacations with Ann and later Bill and Kerry. We disembarked at Norfolk and boarded the train for Camp Lejeune. Since all of the Marines on the train were reservists going home, it was a little difficult to maintain discipline but, once a Marine, always a Marine and I was able to keep my group under reasonable control.

1946 – 1947

ASHEVILLE & UNC

We were all given 60 days leaving so I left for Asheville on the Greyhound bus. After 28 days aboard ship, this was luxury.  A few days later Ann arrived in Asheville with the possible idea of breaking our engagement. As she tells it, when she saw me walking across the station, she decided we were for real. (I was neat and trim at that time since, being in uniform, I did not have to pick out the proper tie to go with my shirt.)

After a visit in Asheville I returned to Lynchburg with Ann and we were married on November 9, 1946. We were both 21 years old. Because Ann has always looked younger than she is (she still does), her sister had to go to the Court House to swear that she was old enough to get a marriage license.

My family came up for the wedding and besides the traditional champagne and wedding cake, we had Virginia country ham on beaten biscuits. At last count my father had eaten about 3 gross. The wedding reception was in Ann's home and it was a beauty. The house was formerly owned by Carter Glass whose family had started the local newspaper. Carter was a senator and is responsible for the Federal Reserve Act. The house was rented but came up for sale a few years later. My wonderful father in law, Warren Simpson Sholes (who was known affectionately as “Bill”) was determined to buy it. He had to be out of town on business and left a friend with power of attorney at the auction. The man decided the bidding had gone too high and let it get away. I am not sure Bill ever got over this although the house he did buy was something special also.

Since I was getting paid for the dance jobs, I had enough in China to keep me in cigarettes and 10 cent beer and therefore I put away a big part of my small salary and had enough for a good honeymoon. Ann wanted to go to Bermuda but, having been overseas for over a year, I wanted to keep my feet in the USA. We went to Washington, DC to re-visit our dating days and then on to New York. We were driving Bill Sholes car. Since they only had one car, I don't know what he did to run his business while we were cruising all over in his car.

I have always been a Jazz fan and at that time 52nd street was a swinging place. Also each hotel and theater and night club had first class orchestra and small groups. We danced to Stan Kenton, Benny Goodman, Gene Krupa , Eddie Condon and listened to June Christy, Billie Holiday, the Ink Spots etc. It was great.

When we were in Billy Rose's Diamond Horseshoe an older gentleman sent us drinks. (People did that for service men at this time). Since that time, I have tried to do the same whenever possible.

We returned to Camp Lejeune where I received my discharge and accepted a permanent commission in the Marine Corps Reserve. Then back to Lynchburg and on to Asheville.

We were a rare couple – both virgins until we married. Ann's chastity was because that was what proper young ladies did at this time. Mine was probably for lack of opportunity and a fear of VD instilled by the Marine Corps training films. But there are many advantages to this situation. For one, you don't have to compare your mate with other encounters.

We rented a room in Asheville next door to my family while I waited to get into a University. I applied to Furman where Hap and Adrian were and was accepted but a week later I was accepted at UNC at Chapel Hill and this had always been my first choice so I was Happy!!!

Because of the GI Bill, all of the colleges in the country were expanding like wildfire. We went to Chapel Hill to find a place to live. All dormitories were for single students and all available houses, apartments and rooms had been rented. The university had established a trailer park but it was full. The only chance was to buy one on the site from someone graduating. We were lucky to find one and it was a palace – 20′ long and about 20 years old. This was before “trailers” became “mobile homes” and although we had running cold water in the sink, there was a common bath house in the middle of the park. Fortunately I did not have to get up in the middle of the night as I now do – Ah, Youth.

Since the next term did not start until January I took a job at my Alma Mater, McIntyre's Fruit Store. I earned $30.00 per week and could have joined the “52/20″ club at $20.00 for doing nothing. The 52/20 was another benefit offered to veterans to help them out until they could find work. It offered $20.00 per week for 52 weeks and all you had to do was to register and show that you could not find work in your field. One of my cousins registered as a snow plow operator and a friend registered as a commercial fisherman, neither occupation existed in Asheville. I preferred to retain my dignity and work, even though it was menial.

I filled in for one dance job with a local band but had to join the union to do it.

In January we left for Chapel Hill and arrived at night with a light snow on the ground. I could not get the kerosene heater lighted so we shivered all night under my Marine overcoat. The next day a neighbor showed me how to light the stove and the heater and life became more pleasant. I started classes and we settled in to being married – and it was fun.

I had many friends and acquaintances there and some of them were in the KA fraternity which was just a block up the street from our trailer. If I came home from class and Ann was not at the trailer, I knew I could find her playing poker at the KA house. Never a dull moment with that lady.

By this time the funds I had accumulated had run out and although the GI bill paid tuition and a small allowance, it would not support a wife. I took a job in the library at night and Ann got a job at a camera shop developing film. This was almost fatal for me.  One of her co-workers was a cute little blonde country girl who was the girl friend of Art Weiner, a star tight end on the football team. Art was about 6′5″ tall and weighed about 250 lbs. Ann bruised her arm one day and when her friend asked how she said “Charlie threw me up against the wall”. The girl was appalled and Ann said “Oh, he does this all the time.” Her friend was prepared to have Art Weiner punch me out until I convinced Ann to tell her that she was kidding.

Our entertainment was mainly events at the University so we were able to hoard enough to have dinner each week end at the Port Hole, the best restaurant in Chapel Hill. Their specialty for dessert was toasted pound cake with ice cream and the aroma of the pound cake permeated the whole restaurant – it was a delightful smell and I still find a dinner in a nice restaurant to be one of life's finest experiences.

We particularly enjoyed the basketball games. This was before integration and, had this not been changed there would have been no Michael Jordon at UNC.

After Biltmore Tech and a full 12 months at Emory and Duke I had only 6 months to go for a degree. I graduated in August with a BS in Commerce. I don't think they offer this degree any more. Usually a degree in commerce with a stress on accounting is a BA but ours had some engineering involved.

I was proud of the BS until it took on a more vernacular connotation in recent years.

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