Från kornbröd till Kaviar - och tillbaka igen

(Och tillbaka igen?)

1925 - 1943

Jag såg aldrig havet tills jag skickades till Parris Island till Boot Camp i marinkåren. Sedan dess har jag varit i 43 länder och räknar - eftersom, vid en ålder av 72, har jag några intressanta projekt på elden. Men dessa projekt visas på udda tider och i mellan försöker jag att roa mig med att förmedla lite av den erfarenhet jag har haft turen att "uthärda".

För några år sedan, när jag började min karriär som en "Internationell Gypsy" Jag kände att affärsbrev var i grunden tråkig och därför var oftast ignoreras. Jag började att försöka skriva på ett sätt som kanske skulle få uppmärksamhet hos mottagaren. Som en följd av detta har under årens lopp vänner och kollegor sa "Du borde skriva."

När jag var pre teen och tonåren jag spelat mycket av baseball och tyckte det skulle vara trevligt att vara en professionell baseball-spelare. När jag var i Kina 1946 i US Marine Corps startade vi ett basebollag efter att vi hade skickat den japanska tillbaka till Japan och det fanns inte mycket att göra. Jag inte göra regementets första laget men jag fick till fladdermus en gång mot en karl som hade en tillbringare tjur penna för Chicago White Sox. Han kastade en snabb boll som såg mig som en aspirin tablett närmar på 90 miles per timme och domaren skrek "Strike". Han kastade en andra som skrämde mig till döds - en annan strejk. Den tredje planen kom rätt på mitt huvud och som en högerhänt smet, sprang jag ner den tredje baslinjen för att inte bli dödad. Det böjda över mitten av plattan, skrek domaren "Strike Three".

Jag insåg då att jag inte skulle vara ett proffs baseballspelare.

Även under tonåren började jag spela saxofon i olika lokala band och min ambition var att vara en sida man i en av de många bra band. Detta var en tid präglad av "Swing" och de stora namnen var Miller, Goodman, Dorsey etc.

I december 1942, vid den mogna åldern av 17 hade jag ett samtal från ett band vid University of North Carolina. De hade bokat en tur för jul och nyår säsong och 4 i deras 5 saxofonisterna har tagits fram. De bjöd mig och två andra medlemmar av vår lokala band att gå med dem. Under denna turné och senare i Kina, arbetade jag med människor i verklig talang och jag insåg att jag inte skulle bli professionell musiker.

Efter att ha läst många av de lysande författare - och några inte så lysande - Jag inser också att jag aldrig kommer att bli ett proffs på detta område heller - men - jag ska skriva detta för mina barnbarn om att en dag, kanske de vill veta varifrån de kom. (Normalt skulle jag ha sagt "där de kom ifrån" men jag minns när Winston Churchill var straffade i parlamentet för att ha en preposition i slutet av en mening. Han svarade på tillrättavisning genom att säga "Detta är ett oförskämt upp som jag inte kommer att sätta ".

Första gången som någon sa till mig "Du borde skriva" var som ett resultat av mitt första brev till Weyerhaeuser högkvarteret när jag först kom i Guatemala. Jag gick igenom filerna när jag kom och jag fann att de brev varje månad sagt, mer eller mindre "Försäljningen är upp 1,3% under samma månad förra året. Administrativ kostnad är 6,8% jämfört med 6,7% förra året. Inventeringen är 1.200 ton. Etc., etc. "

Eftersom anläggningen i Guatemala var mycket liten, av Weyerhaeuser standarder, beslöt jag att ingen skulle läsa den här typen av rapport, särskilt när han hade att göra med många företag utomlands.

Min första brevet var som följer:

Mr Ivan Wood

Vice President, International

Weyerhaeuser Company

Tacoma, Washington

Kära Ivan,

Som ni vet öppnat United Fruit Company sin egen box plant och Cajas y Empaques de Guatemala just förlorat 45% av sin verksamhet. Naturligtvis skapade detta en förlust för månaden.

Vi kommer att återhämta detta så snart som möjligt och jag antar att det är därför du skickade mig hit.

I onsdags gerillan dödade USA: s ambassadör och alla utlänningar här är rädd S-mindre. Att vara en ex marin, jag tror jag kan hantera det.

Jag börjar anpassa sig till de kulturella förändringar långsamt. När jag anlände märkte jag att alla hus hade en mur runt dem och på gräsmattan och trädgården var i denna förening.

Jag antog att det var för skydd, vilket är delvis korrekt, men den har en mer praktisk anledning till att vara.

Guatemala har en regnperiod i sex månader och en torr säsong i sex månader. Torrperioden orsakar en extrem vattenbrist och även raser bakterier.

De flesta tror att problemet med vattenbrist är att det inte finns dricksvatten. Det finns alltid öl, koks och soda vatten att dricka. Det verkliga problemet är att du inte kan spola toaletten, men en gång.

Att leva i ett hus med tre personer och en piga när bakterierna har tillfogat alla med "gröna äpplen Quick Step", och att bara kunna spola toaletten en gång, är över och bortom vad plikten.

Det var vid denna tid som jag insett värdet av väggen för den personliga integriteten och den praktiska användningen av alla vackra träd och buskar i trädgården.

Min katt, som har haft mycket erfarenhet av sådana här saker, kom tvåa.

Hälsningar,

MB Tilson

Asheville, NC

Kanske titeln på den här lilla brev är förvirrande - låt mig förtydliga.

Jag föddes i Asheville, NC 1925. Min familj var av "medelinkomstländer" -. Inte att förväxla med "medelklass" Min son, Bill, i sin avhandling för en magisterexamen i arkitektur skrev "efter en lång och intressant barndom" - Jag skulle vilja cop denna fras eftersom jag också hade en lång och intressant barndom - men, som är en medelinkomst södra familj, vi åt stekt kyckling och kornbröd. Det skulle ta flera år innan jag någonsin hade räkcocktail och kaviar - men de är bra!

Och nu, efter pensioneringen, har vi återgått till kornbröd. Med lite tur, lite mer hårt arbete och ytterligare några år, kanske, som general MacArthur, skall vi återvända.

Den stora jazzsångerska, sa Pearl Bailey en gång "Jag har varit dålig och jag har varit rik och rik är bättre".

Om min historia är intressant det är bara på grund av de intressanta människor som jag har deltagit. Av denna anledning kommer jag att berätta många berättelser, vissa utan nämna namn "för att skydda den inte så oskyldig".

Om jag älta det förflutna mer än framtiden är det eftersom det finns mer av det förra än den senare.

Jag antar att stället att börja är i början. Jag föddes i Asheville, NC och namngivna Melvin Blalock Tilson Jr Detta finns tillräckliga skäl för mig att förvärva smeknamnet "Charlie" som har fastnat med mig under åren.

Min mor, Mary Reagan, var den yngsta av åtta barn till JJ Reagan och Carolyn Pickens of Weaverville, NC - en metropol med 500 personer, varav de flesta var riktat som "kusin" eller "tant" eller "farbror", även om det kan inte har ett släktband. Detta var ett tecken på respekt på den tiden. Det kom också väl till pass på konstiga sätt. Farbror Frank Weaver brukade sitta på bänken på Main Street. Eftersom han hade fått lite rund i mitten, kunde han zip inte byxorna hela vägen upp. Senare, när en av de manliga medlemmarna av familjen skulle glömma att komprimera vi bara hade att säga "Hej, farbror Frank" och gärningsmannen insåg genast vad han hade glömt.

Papa Reagan, som vi kallade vår farfar, var känd som "8 rankning matematiker i USA." Detta godtogs och det verkade i hans dödsruna. Men - vid ungefär 10 års ålder, började jag fråga mig själv: "Hur bedömer du Matematiker?" The vadd mästare beräknas genom träffar vs gånger bat. En toppstudent bestäms av en summa av betyg men hur gör man rank matematiker?

När jag blev äldre, jag tror jag listade ut hur denna titel utvecklats.

Odd Fellows Hall var den lokala träffpunkt och social klubb för män i Weaverville. Här kunde de tugga tobak och spelar domino. Jag förstår inte riktigt spelet men jag vet att sättet som man spelade det, det var en matematisk övning. Papa vann vanligtvis för att han var bra. Han brevväxlade med professorer från Yale och Harvard och de skickade varandra problem att lösa. Det sades att han skulle hoppa upp mitt i natten, skriv svaret på ett problem på sin natt skjorta, och somna om, men - det fortfarande inte svara på ranking.

Jag visualisera att efter noggrant ha blivit misshandlad av "sor" Reagan, en i gruppen nog sa "professor är verkligen smart. Han måste vara den bästa matematikern i landet ". Och en annan svarade "Jo, jag vet inte, det finns att Einstein Feller och han är ganska smart". Och, efter en diskussion kom de överens om att han kanske inte var nummer ett, men han måste vara nummer 8. Det är min teori men kanske var han nummer 3 - vem vet?

Eftersom college professorer betalades ännu värre då än nu, var Papa Reagan också en besiktningsman och han hade en plantskola och en liten gård. Han ägde Hamburg Mountain som låg bakom hans hus, och även om det var liten jämfört med riktiga fjäll, hade det fruktträd, jordbruksmark och betesmark. Han hade också en rök hus där landet skinka botade. Detta förblir min favorit kött.

Han hade läst om Luther Burbank antar jag, eftersom han experimenterade med ympning fruktträd. Om jag minns rätt efter alla dessa år, hade han ett träd som hade äpplen, päron, körsbär och persikor på samma träd. Jag tror inte att detta fortsatte, men för det år då det var ympade, var alla frukter ätbara.

Mama Reagan var en gudfruktiga dam av den gamla skolan - en ättling till en lång rad Methodist predikanter. Jag minns att en söndag, smög Papa Reagan iväg till en lada för att lyssna till World Series på radio (det fanns ingen TV då). Mama läxade honom fruktansvärt för brott mot sabbaten. Papa svarade "Men ingen kunde se mig". Till vilken Mama svarade: "Herren såg dig".

Ofta när jag var mycket ung, skulle alla min mors bröder och systrar och deras barn äter middag (detta var mitt på dagen måltid) vid Reagan huset. På grund av det stora antalet, åt vi barn i den andra tabellen. Det var här som jag utvecklat en motvilja mot tårta. Mama Reagans kokos kaka var lika torr som Saharaöknen och vägde ca 8 pounds per skiva. Min mamma verkade ha ärvt denna stora skicklighet på att laga så aldrig i mitt liv har jag någonsin sagt till min kära Ann, "Varför kan du inte laga mat som min mamma?"

Jag vill inte uppehålla mig vid Papa Reagan, men jag kunde fortsätta och fortsätta. Så - bara ett par saker.

När han och hans söner, den yngsta som då är ungefär 6 år gammal, var på väg upp Hamburg Mountain för att reparera en del av stängsel. De yngsta, jag tror det var "Predika", var framme med flera andra och Papa var några sätt bakom. Plötsligt fanns det en blod ystning skrik, och Papa började springa uppför berget. Han tyckte det var en fruktansvärd tragedi och han skrek "Vad har hänt?" Den äldsta som var upp med "Predika" (jag tror det var Grady) skrek tillbaka "Han tappade hammaren på hans tå."

Papa svarade med att skrika tillbaka "Ta den hammare och döda den där pojken!" Detta nu påminner mig om Bill Cosby rutin där hans fru sa, när han kom tillbaka från arbetet "Gå uppför trappor och döda den där pojken."

Mama Reagan föll och bröt höften medan jag var borta i marinkåren. Hon blev senil, som vi sa då, men nu vet jag att det var Alzheimers. Tyvärr dog hon innan jag återvände från Kina.

Papa Reagan fortsatte under många år men blev dödad av en bil när de korsar motorvägen. Bilen kördes av en smekmånad par och de var naturligtvis förkrossad. Idag skulle familjen förmodligen har stämt och krävt enorma summor. I dessa dagar, och jag hoppas vi återkomma till dessa moral, ursäktade min mors släkt till paret, förklarade att 85 år gammal att han inte ser eller hör alltför väl och de var inte på något sätt ansvariga.

Den del jag gillade mest, och hoppas att efterlikna, är att han var enligt uppgift på väg att se sin flickvän. (Okej Annie, sluta flinande, jag vet att du tänker på George Gershwin låten "Det är inte nödvändigtvis så", där texterna säger "Metusela levde 900 år, men vad är användningen av Livin 'när ingen tjej kommer ge efter för ingen människa som är 900 år. ") Jag kan drömma kan inte jag?

Nu ska vi köra snabbt genom min mors generation av Reagan klan:

Den äldsta var Anna Lee (vi barn kallade henne "Key") - om hon levde hon skulle döda mig för att säga detta eftersom hon var en skådespelerska och därmed ganska fåfäng. Hon kom aldrig till Broadway men det gjorde hon studera i Boston och var aktiv i lokala och regionala spelar. Jag tror att hennes sista var en produktion som heter "Åt dessa Hills" som var en krönika av Cherokee indianerna. Hon spelade i detta för ett antal år och även medverkat i ett framgångsrikt spel som heter "Tight grabben" som var skriven av Hubert Hayes, en dramatiker från The University of North Carolina.

Viktiga dotter var Maria Madeleine. Eftersom Key var 20 år äldre än min mamma, mamma och Maria Madeline (Manna) faktiskt växte upp tillsammans. Det låter antagligen som den gamla tecknade serien "The Mountain Boys", där de 6 "lång, hagelgevär totin" bootleggers hade en morbror som heter Rufe. Farbror Rufe var i blöjor och var cirka 6 månader gammal - men det är så det var i gamla dagar innan familjeplanering.

Viktiga gift Scroup färger (Håller du inte älskar dessa namn?)

Alma (som vi kallade Tante) var en sjuksköterska. Hon gifte sig med en jurist och bodde i High Point, NC Hennes man, som vi kallade "Farbror Nobe", hette Xenobious Walker. Efter att jag fick reda på hans riktiga namn, har Melvin låter inte så illa.

Min mor, Maria, var den med den musikaliska talang. Hon var solist i metodistkyrkan i år, och okänd för de flesta människor, sjöng hon vid begravningar för vad vi nu kallar "hemlösa". När jag hittade det här, var jag stolt.

Mina morbröder var:

Grady - var i armén under första världskriget en och kanske var föregångaren till USO. Han var vid fronten i Frankrike och sedan skrev några låtar om krig och skickades runt för att underhålla trupperna när de var på rastplatser. Han skrev en låt som hette "Bloody War" som senare publicerades, var detta en enkel sång med många verser som gäller för tiden och jag använde det många år senare att skriva parodier för våra vänner.

Senare var han ordförande i Länsstyrelsen i kommissionärer. Detta var en politisk jobb och tydligen viktigt. På den tiden fanns inga republikaner i Buncombe County eller kanske inte i North Carolina, men det var hård konkurrens. De två fraktionerna var känd som "Ring" och "Anti Ring". Ringen styrs av Deacon Greene. Han höll aldrig ett förtroendeuppdrag och han bodde i Langren Hotel, men ingenting hände utan godkännande av Deacon. Grady slutligen besegrades och jag vet inte vad han gjorde efter det. Jag vet att faster Grace, hans hustru arbetade på Ivey's varuhus. Kanske Grady gjorde aldrig något efter det.

Hans söner var Grady, Jr och Gordon. Grady Jr hade en utmärkt bas röst, liksom sin far och sjöng i kyrkokören. Det sista jag hörde, han arbetade för Veterans Administration. Gordon hade en basketboll stipendium till UNC och jag såg honom för sista gången i Chapel Hill. Jag hade återvänt från Kina och var utnyttja GI Bill att avsluta min utbildning och han är yngre, hade just kommit in UNC. Det sista jag hörde av honom var han i diplomatisk tjänst i Pakistan.

Rob - jag antar att han hette Robert, men jag visste aldrig något annat än "Farbror Rob". Rob var en besiktningsman eller som vi säger nu, civilingenjör. Han var ganska lyckad och han byggde ett hus direkt bakom Mama och Papa Reagan. Han och moster (vi uttalade det ANT) Belle hade två barn - Bobby och Gloria (Glo). Bobby ville bli tandläkare men av någon anledning aldrig gjorde det. Det sista jag hörde av honom var han en säljare för Morton Salt. Glo gifte sig med en man som hade en bilfirma i Virginia Beach. När jag var i Dominikanska republiken, hon och hennes man (jag skäms över att [MT1] Jag kan inte komma ihåg hans namn) kom till Casa de Campo för en golfsemester. Trevliga människor.

Ernest - Farbror "Ern" var en bok djurhållare. Han och moster Zola (inte vi har några bra namn?) Hade 4 barn. En var efterbliven och sattes i en "hemma". Den äldste var Elaine, en härlig dam. Hon gifte sig med en marin kapten och, när jag var på Camp Lejeune i marinkåren, uppmanade de mig till deras hus för middag. Efteråt gick vi på bio, men eftersom jag var en PFC. och han var en kapten, separerade vi. Jag satte mig ner för trappor och de satt på balkongen i officerens avsnitt. Idag skulle detta förmodligen kallas "diskriminering" men jag tycker det är korrekt.

Ernest Jr (Bud) och Jim var de två pojkarna. Bud och jag, är av samma ålder, var nog närmare än någon av mina manliga kusiner. Bud var en mästare skämt Teller, särskilt av smutsig, men rolig, skämt. Han slutade som en Navy Kaplan - och ganska bra. Tyvärr dog han i sin tidiga 40-talet. Jag såg honom aldrig efter att vi lämnade Chapel Hill.

Jim var en marinsoldat, som I. Men eftersom det var en åldersskillnad, jag var inte nära honom. Den sista kontakten jag hade var från Jacksonville, Florida hade Jim drabbats av ett svårt fall av artrit och för mycket av den tiden var begränsad i VA sjukhuset i Gainesville, Florida Han startade en krönika av Reagan klanen. Jag ska försöka att hitta om han fortfarande på det även om jag inte har ett telefonnummer.

Carol - Vi kallade honom "farbror Predika". Han fick detta namn eftersom, som barn brukade han gå ut i skogen och predika predikningar. Detta kom uppenbarligen från de besök av närstående "krets ryttare" som var del av Mama Reagans familj. Predika gift "tant Ann" - en liten dam som arbetat som banktjänsteman i den lokala banken. Hon var ett offer för ett bankrån, komplett med hagelgevär och masker i den lokala banken. Detta var tiden för John Dillinger och om det var Dillinger eller någon annan småaktiga tjuv, vet vi inte - men det var spännande att tänka att det var gamle John.

Deras enda barn var Suzy. Suzy var ca 2 år yngre än jag så vi inte var nära när vi var unga. Men av skäl som är okända för oss båda, och även om vi såg aldrig varandra mer än en eller två gånger efter att vi växte upp, blev vi "favorit kusiner". Suzy gifte sig med en stor kille som var ett verkställande för Malcolm McLean på Själland. Det sista jag hörde de levde i Connecticut och deras äldste son var en fänrik i flottan. Jag skall försöka hitta dem också.

Scruggs - (Dessa namn blir bättre hela tiden). Farbror Scruggs gift "tant Myrtle". Han flyttade till Evansville, Indiana innan jag föddes så jag bara såg honom på sällsynt besök i Weaverville. De hade en son, Jim. Jag minns honom bara för att, på en två månaders vistelse i Weaverville under sommaren, började han gå upp i vikt. Ingen kunde förstå detta förrän han påpekade "Detta är det bästa mjölken jag någonsin har haft i mitt liv". Mama & Papa Reagan hade kor och hållit en tillbringare med ren grädde i kylskåpet. Jim drack flera glas om dagen. Snacka om kolesterol! Det sista jag hörde av Jim, han var i Las Vegas.

Sammanfattningsvis sade någon gång i min mors bröder "Två var allvarliga, fast medborgare. Man gillade whisky, tyckte en kvinnor och den andra gillade båda. "Självklart skall jag inte identifiera dem vid namn.

Nog om min mors släkt. Låt oss gå vidare till min fars sida.

Jag visste inte att min farfar eftersom han dog när min far var 14. Av denna anledning, pappa aldrig slutat skolan. - Jag tror att han gick till årskurs 7 Han började att köra vagnen till min farbror, Dr Weaver och detta var ursprunget till min Faders smeknamnet "Little Doc" som senare utvecklades till helt enkelt "Doc".

Min farmor var Essie Penland. Jag tror inte att Essie var det riktiga namnet men det är allt vi någonsin visste. Detta var före de dagar av social trygghet så, när fröken Essie inte längre kunde köra henne pensionat, kom hon att bo hos oss. Det enda jag minns om "Granny Tilson" var när hon satt mig i hennes knä, när jag var ca 7 år gammal och läs mig Bibelns berättelser. Dessutom brukade hon ta mig på spårvagnen till platser där de serveras vattenmelon på sommaren. Jag älskar fortfarande vattenmelon. Farmor dog medan hon bodde hos oss. Jag har ingen aning om var hon sov eftersom vi hade en 2 sovrum hus. Min kära syster "Til" och jag delade ett sovrum, mina föräldrar hade den andra. Vart tog Farmor sova? - Jag tänkte aldrig på detta tills detta ögonblick!

George och Essie fick 5 barn. Den äldsta var min farbror George, sedan min pappa Melvin, sedan Bertha, Edgar och Harriet. Denna sida av familjen hade stora namnen också.

George gifte Tant Marian - en Yankee inte mindre. De hade inga barn men hade Scottie hund. De kom till huset en natt, upprörd, eftersom hunden hade dött. De kände skuld för att de inte hade fått hans tonsiller bort i tiden. Resten av oss, vars hundar kom från pund eller från gatan och åt matrester, kunde inte föreställa sig en hund att gå till läkaren för en operation.

I recently heard from my cousin Fred Reeves that Aunt Marian was still alive at the age of 97 but really was not “with it”. Spare me this.

Edgar was the black sheep. He married and had one child; Bertha Ann. Bertha Ann lived for several years with Harriet. What happened to her later, I have no idea.

Bertha was great. We called her Aunt Tillie (a nickname her husband, Fred, had given her – derived from Tilson). They had a nice house with a tennis court in Weaverville and 2 cabins in the mountains on Reems Creek. This property adjoined Camp Sequoia which was, and perhaps still is, an exclusive camp for boys and girls. Fred worked in the bank in Weaverville and when all of the banks began to fail during the depression, he was, how do we say nowadays? – downsized?

After this, they sold (or lost) the house in Weaverville and moved to the cabins. They lived in one and rented the other. They were log cabins, made in the old fashioned way but were very comfortable except that the food was preserved in the spring house and the plumbing was a nice out building surrounded by flowers which we called “Johnny House Lilies”.

Their two children were Fred (Junie) and Mary Elizabeth (Libba).

Jag talade nyligen med Fred och han hade just firat sin 80-årsdag. Han sa att han inte har många vänner eftersom han inte tyckte om gamla människor. Fred spelade på tennis team vid NC State, kanske en följd av att ha en domstol i hans hus. Han var en kapten i flygvapnet under andra världskriget och efter kriget flyttade till Kalifornien och gick in i fastigheter verksamhet. Jag tror att han fortfarande dabbles i detta. Jag hoppas att se honom om min bostadsprojekt i Tijuana utvecklar eftersom han bor nära San Diego.

Libba gifte sig med en köpman marinofficer och hade en dotter som hon kallade "Eve" eftersom hon var den första tjejen i hennes mans familj i flera generationer. Jag har tappat kontakten med dem helt och hållet, och sedan Libba var äldre än Fred, kanske hon inte längre lever.

Harriet gifte sig John Brady, en ingenjör. De producerade två söner, John och George. John och Harriet var frånskild och Harriet hamnade i New York som arbetar för regeringen. Hon gick bort för några år sedan. George bor någonstans i New England men Johan dog ganska ung. Han var redaktör för tidningen i Franklin, NC - en stad ganska lik Weaverville.

Jag hade en speciell känsla för tant Tillie, för när jag var omkring 10 år gammal jag använder för att klättra upp i träden bakom en av hennes hytter och gå på den stora vinrankor som växte i träden. Hon skulle inte låta farbror Fred minska dessa vinrankor eftersom "Charlie gillar att klättra på dem".

Jag tog min underbara Ann till stugan när vi var engagerade - strax innan vi gifte oss. Jag insåg inte att hon inte var förtrollad med bergen, som jag var, och jag insisterade på att vi gunga på en druvsorter över bäcken. Hon skar sig i benet i processen och detta var hennes sista företaget på en druvsorter. Hon gjorde dock sova på en gunga på verandan och verkligen avslappnad så det var inte en total förlust.

Nu - efter alla dessa människor, så kommer "lilla Melvin". Jag föddes den 4 januari 1925 och det slog mig igår, efter att titta på tidiga död av prinsessan Diana och även syster Maria Teresa, att syster Teresa som dog vid 87 års ålder föddes bara 15 år före mig. Jag hade bättre bråttom att avsluta denna krönika!

Jag har kommit till tro - ja, kanske inte tror, men är intresserad av allmänna egenskaper Zodiac. Jag är en Capricorn och har alla de allmänna drag som tillskrivs oss "Goats". Jag gifte mig med en Leo och hon har alla kännetecken på en "Lioness" - Princess i djungeln.

Eftersom vi Stenbockar är ganska grubblande, envisa och ibland naiva individer, mina första minnen är passande. När jag spelade i fältet bredvid vårt hus i Weaverville, där vi hade flyttat strax efter jag föddes, och jag trampade i ett inlägg hål . Min lilla fot gick ner tillspetsade men plattas ut i botten så att den inte skulle komma ut. M.fl., kanske ljusare och mer emotionella än jag skulle ha skrikit på hjälp. Jag, som en tråkig Stenbocken, stod tyst tills jag var missat. Min mor, som inte var så känslolös, kom skrikande i fältet och grävde mig med en silversked.

Min nästa minnesbild var att jag hade ett husdjur get. Min far byggde en vagn formad som en brandbil och geten kunde dra det här. Mina kusiner, som var äldre, och naturligtvis klokare än jag, som "Kalle, du stannar här och vänta på alla nödsamtal som kommit i. Vi kommer att ta vagnen och utreda alla bränder som händer. "Även om jag trodde dem vid den tiden, har detta hållit mig från att vara" lurade i "många gånger sedan dess.

Min nästa minne är när vi flyttade tillbaka till Asheville och hyrt ett hus på Merrimon Avenue. Jag var bara 6 år gammal men jag minns att jag hade en liten svart tavla på ett staffli i mitt rum men jag hade bara en bit vit krita som man kan rita. I söndags skolan på Central Methodist Church, söder, fanns färgad krita. Jag stal den!

Att vara mycket smart, gömde jag den här i mitt rum förrän i nästa onsdag. Sedan - när man spelar på gården jag snubblade och föll ner. Jag kom upp från marken och sade till mina föräldrar som var på verandan "Titta, jag snubblade och föll och landade på en låda med färgad krita".

De naturligtvis visste att krita saknades i söndagsskola i 3 dagar och var skarpsinnig nog att vänta på utvecklingen. Efter att berätta för mig hur lycklig jag var att hitta denna krita och med diskreta frågor om hur det kan ha kommit dit - jag erkände. Jag återvände krita nästa söndag och jag har aldrig stulit något sedan dess. Kanske om jag hade kommit undan med detta eller om jag hade varit inspärrad vid sex års ålder, skulle jag ha varit en bekräftad kriminell.

Förresten, Metodistkyrkan Episcopal Church-syd innebar centralt att det inte fanns några svarta i församlingen.

Min pappa, som var känd som något av en humorist, brukade säga att vi flyttade varje gång hyran kom pga. Detta var inte sant men när jag var åtta år gammal flyttade vi till 6 Coleman Avenue. Detta var ungefär en mil bort, men det innebar att jag skulle få en helt ny uppsättning av vänner eftersom det var en annan stadsdel.

Jag har många minnen av den 6 Coleman Avenue. Det var ett litet hus, kanske 700 ft2 på principen golvet men med en källare och garage. Vi hade två sovrum. Mamma och pappa hade en och jag delade den andra med min syster. När Farmor Tilson sov när hon kom att leva med oss, vet jag inte.

Min Fader har alltid velat ha en "Hoss" eftersom jag tror att han var besatt av den gamla väst och cowboys i filmer. I parken var en av 1930-talet temaparker som hade en djurpark, munter gå runt, bilar bula, pariserhjul etc. Det har också haft en ponny rida. Pappa konstaterade att ägarna till ponny rida skulle låta någon en ponny för att hålla under vintersäsongen när parken var stängd, om de matade den och såg efter det.

Han fick mig en ponny. Min mor och syster var inte alltför glad men pappa var jag och mina vänner!

Trots att vårt hus var liten, gick partiet tillbaka ca 300 meter. Vi var i hyresobjektet men pappa tog ner garageportar och använt dem för sidorna på en stabil för min ponny "Phyllis" - alias "Phil".

Det är fantastiskt hur många vänner du har när du har en ponny.

Phil användas för att få loss och sedan jag åkte till gymnasiet innan min syster åkte till gymnasiet, måste hon gå upp till Merrimon Avenue för att få Phil och föra henne tillbaka till stallet. Phil verkade alltid steg på Til fot och, utan att veta om hästar och hata dem också, Til visste inte att allt du behöver göra är att plocka upp vristen och lyft foten. Jag tror att hon lärde mig en del vulgära ord i denna erfarenhet.

Samtidigt hade jag en hund, en katt, en dvärghöns höna och en tupp dvärghöns. Hunden hade 6 valpar, katten hade 8 kattungar och bantam kläckts en kull på 12. Min mor var mycket tolerant.

På den tiden jag startade min första kommersiella företag. Jag sålde tidningar från dörr till dörr - Saturday Evening Post och Ladies Home Journal. Jag var inte så bra på det här så jag var inte framgångsrik. Den enda värre än jag var min granne, Billy Charnuckle. Hans inställning var att säga till vem öppnade dörren "Du vill inte köpa några tidningar gör du?" De skulle naturligtvis säga "Nej" och stängde dörren.

När jag var omkring 11 flyttade vi till Murdoch Avenue. Detta var den favorit ställe jag bodde under uppväxten. Det var ett litet hus - en våning med en källare som delvis var ett garage. Den hade 3 sovrum, varav två tidigare ett stort sön veranda så det fanns fönster runt om. Off av vardagsrummet fanns en stor förvaring garderob med utgång till en liten balkong. Jag valde detta för mitt rum snarare än ett av sovrummen. Den hade plats för min säng, gott om hyllor och inte så mycket mer men det var privat och mysigt. Den hade ett par nackdelar inte för mig men för andra. Min syster, som är 4 år äldre, ganska ofta hade sällskap och datum. De var i vardagsrummet och för att komma från min "gömställe" på toaletten, var det nödvändigt att passera genom vardagsrummet. Jag gick till sängs tidigt, eftersom jag bar tidningar på en morgon rutt och för mig att få upp cirka 11:00 och TRASKA genom vardagsrummet i mina underkläder var ganska oroande att min syster, särskilt när hon försökte imponera på senaste "sitt livs kärlek".

Den främsta orsaken jag gillade det här huset var trakten. Det var känt som "Norwood Park" och det fanns ett överflöd av barn i alla åldrar. Across från mitt hus var ett område som vi kallade "The Woods". Det var kanske ca 5 tunnland av träd med en bäck som rinner igenom och ett majsfält på andra sidan. Varje sommar har vi byggt en damm över denna bäck och skapat en vaken. Detta var övervakas av de äldre medlemmarna i gruppen som var minst 15 år gammal. Resten av oss, från 8 år till 14 var den gemensamma arbetsmarknaden. Bäcken var kanske 8 meter bred och ca 1 eller 2 meter djup under normala tider. Vårt förfarande, vilket inte var dåligt för en grupp barn, var följande:

Vi hugger ner ett högt träd - kanske 30 meter lång med en diameter på kanske 12 eller 15 inches. Detta lade vi över bäcken för att nå stranden av ån som var ca 5 meter över bäcken nivå. Vi satsade denna logg ner i varje ände så att den inte kunde röra sig i endera riktningen.

Vi började då att snoka i hela grannskapet och närliggande byggarbetsplats för timmer som inte var fastbunden. As I write this I realize that we were probably stealing but we never thought of picking up a loose piece of lumber as theft even though we usually did this at night.

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.

The field on the other side of the pond from the woods was not always planted in corn. 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.

Jag fick också ett jobb på helgerna som 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”. Tänk på det.

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

KINA

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.

Hälsningar,

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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