Summertime, New Jobs and Spectres of Ruined Romance

By July 1960, I had been in Sales Accounting going on eight months. This was not a long time by the Atlantic Refining standards of that time.  t was a conservative, bit stuffy, slow-moving institution under the Chairmanship of Henderson Supplee, Jr. That is Supplee on the right below. Its stock price had remained fairly fixed for years and in-house promotions came slowly. But that eight months seemed a long enough time frame to me, and despite adding several duties to my roster, the job was now rather routine and I was growing bored.

Atlantic Refining had a posting system. Every week Personnel put new job openings on all the bulletin boards. Company policy was to promote from within, at least up to a point. (We will discuss that point in a later chapter.) I checked these postings every week and in July I saw a Level 4 opening in Addressograph for a Graphotype Operator, whatever that was for I had no idea what a Graphotype Operator did or what an Addressograph was. I applied anyway and I got the job.

“You need to understand,” the Hiring Clerk told me, “this is a temporary position. The individual currently holding it is in the Army reserves and will be going to his six-month training requirement. If at the end of his training he chooses to return, we must give him his job back.”

“What happens to me?”

“If he comes back to his former position you will be bumped back to your old job. The person who replaced you will be out.”
It seemed worth the risk and I accepted the situation. Sales Accounting hired a young woman to replace me. She tended to divide like an Amoeba, that is, after a month or so on my old job she complained it was more than one clerk could handle and even though I had handled it, which proved her thesis incorrect, the department hired her an assistant. Then not many weeks following they hired an assistant for the assistant. I suppose that made me a job creator.

The Army reservist never returned and I stayed in Addressograph almost four years. In my haste to promote out of Sales Accounting I had made a tactical mistake. I had taken a job in a “service department”.
Nobody told me then, but folks did tell me later when it was too late, that within Headquarters there was a division of labor bias between “clerical departments” and “service departments”. Service departments were anything that provided support to the clerical departments. This would include the printing department, supplies, maintenance, purchasing, mailroom, etc. With the exception of mailboys and messenger girls in the mailroom, which was the entry point for almost everybody, those in a service department had scant opportunity for advancement outside their own department. Service department employees were in dead-end jobs, for the most part. They were the General Course people of the corporation, whereas the clerical staff was the Commercial Course People. I had just chosen to enter Purgatory or maybe just Limbo.

Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho” premiered in August and almost ruined the shower business. Norman Bates wasn’t the only psycho around. My immediate supervisor in Addressograph was an odd dude himself, not that he was going about killing anyone; although, he came quite close one day.
He was very skinny with a burr haircut and a face like Arnold Stang. He wore glasses and almost always had a pipe between his lips (you could smoke in offices in those days). He had two thumbs on his one hand. The thumbs each curved inward and joined at the tip. He had been Supervisor in Addressograph for over a decade, the service department curse. (For those not familiar with Arnold Stang, he was a comic character actor on radio and television in the 1940s and 1950s. He was quite prevalent, usually playing a cocky, but inept nebbish. That is his picture on the right and he bore a striking resemblance to my Addressograph supervisor.)

The Supervisors name was Ron Paul (not the perennial presidential candidate) and he was none too stable. He was as touchy as nitroglycerin.

Speaking of explosive situations, around this same time the Ghost of Romances Past reappeared. Sonja Kebbe got in touch with me to announce she and Bob were breaking up. She claimed she was going with another Bob, but he was only a minor distraction. He didn’t live up to her first Bob and her past boyfriends..

“I know how you felt,” she said, “if you were as crazy over me as I was over him (Bob Number One).”

I gave her my condolences. She suggested I come "up and see her sometime" or words to that effect . When I wrote Ronald of her re-contact he suggested I try getting back together with her because, “a heart can’t be broken twice.” He also mentioned he was coming home for Labor Day weekend. I didn’t realize these two events were going to cause some trouble for me.

On the 17^th there was no MYF, our meetings were done for the summer. My puppy had a sore throat. I went to the motorcycle races with Paul Miller, his uncle was the Ray Miller who I used to babysit for back as a teenager. Paul's dad and my dad did a lot of work together and the Miller men had been along on our tuna fishing excursion. The Millers are pictured on the left. The two tallest are Paul and Paul Junior.

One of the frustrations I had in life was never knowing what they had intended to write under my senior photo in The Ledger, the OJR Yearbook. This was probably the first place most of us turned when we received our copy. Everyone wanted to read what the biographic blurb said.

There was this quote of Sir Francis Bacon, which seems apropos: “Reading makes a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man.” Beneath this was written my supposed personality sketch

Tall and rather mechanically inclined…seen visiting West Chester frequently…likes riding his motorcycle around the countryside…finds it difficult to find time for homework…never has much to say…plans to work for his father as a truck driver and mechanic after graduation.

Say what? Me mechanically inclined? And I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle in my life, although I have a lot of friends who do. I certainly had no plans of being a truck driver and especially one working for my father. So what gives.

Well, one panel over in the yearbook is Paul Miller’s photo and write up, which is exactly like mine, except for the quote and the first three words of the blurb: “Big and broad…” instead of Tall and rather..." Somehow I ended up with Paul’s write up and so everyone else in my class got to read what the editors thought of them, except me.

I am not sure if Lois was along to the motorcycle races or not. I was out with her on Saturday, took her to dinner and for a ride. Obviously somewhere over the weekend the recent contact from Sonja must have come up or we ran into Sonja somewhere. I received this letter from Lois when I returned to work on Monday.

Larry,

I’m sorry I acted as I did yesterday but I guess you realize it was a case of pure unadulterated jealously. I was so jealous of the fact that Sonya (sic) had arrived on the scene again. I don’t consider myself the most possessive person in the world, but to me Sonya (sic) represents a threat to my future happiness. I know you’ll laugh or get mad at me, but darling I can’t help it. I’ve fallen so desperately in love with you that in some instances I can’t help but get jealous. Believe me darling I trust you completely, but I know how things were between you two once and I get scared as I know time can change things between two people (that time being now and in the future). Larry, I hate to even think of what life would be like if you should leave me. You mean everything to me, and the fact that her mother keeps comparing you to every boy she brings home plus the fact that I remember her mother telling me that I got you just in time shook me up. All I could see was her trying to get you back on these trips home. That was the reason I said I didn’t trust her. She reminds me of my cousin Evie. I’ve seen Cousin Evie in action too often for comfort. In fact when I first brought you around, my dad told me to keep you away from Evie and Joan if I knew what was good for me if I wanted to keep you coming to 1030 Cobbs St & not to 1018 Cobbs St. You see my cousins always take an avid interest in my boyfriends and no interest in me.

Oh Larry, please don’t leave me. I can take almost anything in stride, but not your leaving me.

Well darling, there’s my whole story. Maybe I wasn’t as understanding as you thought but I thought a threat had arisen and I was ready to stand up and fight. My mom taught me that anything in this life that is worthwhile is worth fighting for. And I can’t think of anything more worthwhile than you. I am hardly ever jealous but this was one time the green eyed monster bit me good. I hope you aren’t mad at me. You have my complete trust, love and understanding.

On the surface this letter seemed quite reasonable given the circumstances. Lois knew how head over heels I had been for Sonja and it may have been naturally expected to judge Sonja as someone who couldn’t be trusted. However, although I wouldn’t see this until many years later, this was the first of what became a disturbing pattern.

As incredible as it sounds, according to this letter I must have taken Lois to Sonja’s place at some point. I don’t know why I would have done such a thing other than to show off to Sonja how I had replaced her, which was behavior out of character for me. At least somewhere along the line according to Lois, she met Sonja’s mother more than one time or at least claims to have.

In the letter Lois also makes references to her cousins, Evie (right) and Joan (left), always stealing her boyfriends. But who were these boyfriends? Lois has spoken of a couple boys she dated briefly in high school, but has not made any mention of her cousins coming after these guys and taking them away from her. She has certainly never went into any details about these stolen boyfriends, but I would learn that details were often lacking in her complaints. I even question whether her father ever warned her to keep me away from her cousins.

Now some may ask why would I doubt these statements? We’ll see some behaviors occur that will answer that question eventually, but to be perfectly clear I am not sure what is true and what is not.

July closed as usual, work all week and then a burst of activities crowded into the weekend On Saturday the 24^th, we (my father and I) ran my Ford out to Parkesburg for inspection and new shocks (isn’t this contraption completely rebuilt yet?). When we got home, I helped dad put new sides back on the flatbed as he was going into the tomato hauling business again. That night we went to a Country Serenade and then to the Kimberton Carnival.

Now this matter of a Country Serenade, what is it? It is also called a Shivaree. Lane Keene had gotten married and was home for the wedding night. All these friends (so-called) of theirs snuck up and surrounded the house below their bedroom. When the light went out for a few minutes the serenade began, or the caterwauling actually. Yelling and beating on pots and blowing horns to make a horrendous racket. We even had a bullfrog fiddle, which is like a long log with some kind of string fastened that you play with a bow, like a violin, except it makes a deep, frog like croak. All the while people are yelling for the new bride and groom to come out until they do.
This is why you don’t tell anyone where you are staying for your wedding night.

The next day, a Sunday, I took Lois to Willow Grove Park.

During the week I took Cindy to a Vet in Limerick for the cough she had developed. The doctor said she might have tapeworms. Some medicine was prescribed.

On Friday I went to the Exton Drive-in with Melvin Moyer, then that Saturday I went with Melvin and Dick Huzzard to the Kimberton Carnival again. I didn’t get home from the Fair until 2:45 AM. I slept late and no one went to church, but in the afternoon I went horseback riding at Anne Shantz with Melvin and Dick. And then July slid into August.

Lois and I both saw “Psycho” at the same time, but not together. She went with her girlfriends and they all came out of the movie leery of showers. I believe I saw it with Richard Wilson at the Hippodrome Theater in Pottstown. It didn’t make me fearful of showers. I preferred baths anyway.

It did make me into a strong Alfred Hitchcock fan. I admired his movies and I read a lot about him and his methods. I had always watched “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” so he had already been somewhat an influence on my own writing. “Psycho” made me aware of the use of symbols in storytelling.
For instance, when Marion Crane is dressing after the opening scene in the hotel room she puts on a white bra. When she is dressing to flee after stealing the money she wears a black bra. In the motel, when she makes the decision to return the money, she is wearing a white bra again. She also had a white purse before she stole the money, but exchanges this for a black one afterward. These are clues to Marion’s switching from good girl to bad and back to good.

Ronald had also saw “Psycho” at this time. He was always a movie fan. He thought it was a terrific movie. Around the same time he went with some Army pals to see the film, “Sex Kittens go to College” (afraid I missed that one) in Fitchburg, but got into the wrong theater and sat through a film he had already seen,  “5 Branded Women”. Vera Miles appeared in both this and “Psycho”, which were made at the same time. Because they shaved Vera’s head for “5 Branded Women” (Vera on left), she had to don a wig for Psycho (Vera on right).

John Zacherle, who as Roland hosted “Shock Theater” in Philadelphia, became such a big star that Success lured him away from the local area to the Big Apple, New York City, where he began hosting a similar show under the name, Zacherley. He was cashing in on his fame with records and books. I was currently reading his book, Zacherley’s Midnight Snacks, a collection of short stories by science fiction and horror writers. He brought out another collection in the same year called Zacherley’s Vulture Stew”.

On August 6 Chubby Checker launched a nationwide craze with his song, “The Twist”. There was also a twist for Ronald. The Army transferred him to E Company because his course changed. He had to change his quarters from the nice new facilities to barracks left over from World War II, “which were built to only last 4 yrs.”

I was talking about going to college next year. I was going to Study Creative writing, Drama and Music. Whatever plans I had in mind to accomplish this became a mote point a couple of months later.

Lois and I went to the Valley Forge Music Theater on August 13 to see West Side Story. The Music Theater was in a tent in those days. They called it “theater in the round”. This was because the stage sat in the center with the seats completely surrounding it. Actors played to all sides and often used the aisles as part of the stage. We had the first two seats in Row A of Section A. This meant we were on the aisle and at the edge of the stage. We were practically in the show. I feared being stabbed during the knife fight we were so close to the action.

Neither Lew Tendler’s Restaurant nor the Valley Forge Music Theater exist today.

I tended to write parodies of famous people and I send Ronald one on President Eisenhower convoluted speaking style.

“Well, now, if we are to look at the overall picture, that is to say, in regard to that question, which of course, I haven’t to any degree as yet studied or read up on, I would say, in all practicality, emphatically, I think so.”

I was probably under the influence of a new name hitting the Billboard comedy record charts, Bob Newhart. He released one of the greatest comedy albums in history called “The Buttoned-Down Mind of Bob Newhart”. His shtick was to do mock telephone conversations with famous historical figures. I send Ronald a supposed conversation between Abraham Lincoln and his press agent. Reading it over today I wonder if I simply repeated a Newhart routine as if it was my own.

 Newhart was in the forefront of a new wave of comedians and comedy. It was one era changing to another as represented in August by two occurrences in the music world. On August 18 an unknown band made their first public appearance in Hamburg, Germany under  only the simple name, The Beatles (pictured right).
In nearby Doylestown, Pennsylvania one of my youthful influences died of stomach cancer. His name was Oscar Hammerstein II (pictured left).

Then something happened that almost upset my whole applecart. I do not remember exactly the incidence, but am piecing it together from letters. My best guess is Ronald came home over Labor Day weekend and we planned to go bowling.

He had recently written about scoring a 198 and hoped to top 200. He hoped we could do some bowling when he came home on that holiday.

Ronald, Lois and I went bowling, whether Ginny was along I don’t recall. I do know that somehow Sonja Kebbe showed up and Lois was quite upset about that fact. This was not the first time Sonja popped into my life since she broke up with Bob. Lois definitely considered her a threat. It is a wonder she didn't bowl Sonja over with her bowling bowl.

Pam, or is it Louise Now, My Heating Oil Ticket Burns For You

The Rock ‘n’ Roll decade slid away overnight into the 1960s. It was a lull before the storm. The lives of my friends and I and the world was about to change. Sonja Kebbe was still in my life, but growing more distant. I was back to dating Pamela Wilson more than Sonja. Ronald and Ginny were still a couple.

 In reality, I was drifting with the current, truly was a nowhere man because I had no particular plans. College was out of the question and so was the military, but that hardly mattered because I had landed a decent job. It wasn't anything I particularly wanted to do, but it paid well. Socially I  appeared not  to be lacking companionship; if anything, my social life had expanded. My only real ambition was to be a writer, but I had no clear idea of how to accomplish this goal.

My writing goal wasn’t even set at a high bar. Becoming a Pulp Fiction hack was as good as anything else as long as my byline was beneath the title. I would write anything to get into print. The problem was how does one go about getting into print. I learned the basic format for submitting manuscripts from articles in The Writer’s Digest. Beyond knowing the general way to layout my pages and type it double-spaced and on one side of the paper, I knew nothing. I just wrote what I wrote and sent it out rather willy-nilly to this or that publisher's address.

Meanwhile, the culture around me was moving on to something new.

Elvis Presley, who was the great symbol of the 1950s, was in the Army stationed in Germany. The number one song of the moment was “The Battle of New Orleans” by Johnny Horton (pictured left), a Country singer who had a few crossover hits.
However, several new names dominated the Billboard 100 during the year 1959 representing this transitional period after the great Rock 'n' Roll Decade.  Bobby Darin, Frankie Avalon, Bobby Rydell and Paul Anka all had hits in the top ten and several others scattered down through the top fifty.

Fabian, an artificially created, little-talented singer snatched off a Philadelphia doorstep, was climbing the charts with “Tiger” and “Turn Me Loose”. He would prove be a flash in the pan. (e also apparently was a flash in the flesh as well. For some odd reason there are quite a number of nude photographs of young Mr. Forte on the Internet.)
 Tommy Sands was being plugged for a while as the new Elvis, but he didn’t last long. Elvis didn’t show up on the 1959 Year's Top 100 Billboard Chart until Number 34 with “A Fool Such As I”,  and his music was going away from the raw edge of hard rock that had brought him to fame. The Everly Brothers and Ricky Nelson were still hanging in, each charting multiple songs in the lower Top 60, but they were fading.

Perhaps almost unnoticed, laying in wait ready to pounce, down at Number 77 of the Hot 100 list was a group that would be a bellwether of what was to dominate much of popular music in the decade ahead, The Kingston Trio an ivy-league clad trio of modern folksingers. The song was “The Tijuana Jail”. Amazingly, The Kingston Trio is still touring, but not so surprising don't expect to see the original group. Dave Guard, Nick Reynolds and Guard's replacement, Jon Stewart have all passed away. Only Bob Shane survives, but he is 82 and I'm not sure he gets around as much anymore.

Ronald, Ginny, Pamela and I were still attending dances at Sunnybrook (pictured left. Me, Pamela and Ronald). Sunnybrook, which was the largest ballroom east of the Mississippi at the time we went there, began as a farm with that name, Sunnybrook Farms. A public swimming pool and picnic grove opened on the grounds in 1926. The owners added a dance pavilion that debuted on Memorial Day 1931. At the time we were attending dances there it still featured the Swing Bands from the 1930s and 1940s. It still was booking such acts just a couple years back. Scheduled for the ballroom on March 31, 2012 was The Glenn Miller Orchestra. Today it apparently is using the large ballroom for booking special private affairs, like weddings. It has recently opened a restaurant called Gatsby’s and is featuring entertainment similar to what you find in a number of bars and coffee houses hereabouts.

One of the last dances we attended together featured The Glenn Miller Orchestra led by Ray McKinley, who had been lead drummer in Miller’s Army Air Force Band. Currently a male vocalist named Nick Hilscher leads the Orchestra, who is much too young looking to have ever known the original Glenn Miller. At the time we went, Glenn Miller (pictured right) had been missing since December 1944, presumed killed over France during WWII.  You wonder how many original members are still playing then, over 70 years years later. There is something sad about this continuation of bands from the past. They is static, perpetually playing the same tunes in the same arrangements over and over all these years. There are probably very few of Glenn Miller’s players still alive and none still involved with the orchestra.

In a way 1960 seemed static too as it began. Things had settled into a routine. People like Avalon and Anka were not great musical innovators, so the music scene was in a lull.

There was relative peace in the world.

I was likewise settled in at Atlantic Refining Company. Sales Accounting was on the sixteenth floor. I did not find my job particularly challenging to do. It was certainly much better than starting as a mailboy, sorting correspondence all day standing on your feet, except when you carried the satchels from floor to floor and office-to-office delivering every hour on the hour. The most difficult part of my job was catching an elevator down at quitting time. There were twenty-one floors in the building. Everyone left at the same time and the floors above filled the elevators before they reached mine. The doors would open and perhaps one or two of the 100 waiting could squeeze in. We smarter ones would also push the up button, but there were smart ones on the floor below as well and even the cars going up often opened nearly full.

Sales Accounting had a number of employees. We sat in perfectly lined up rows of desks facing the manager’s office. The manager sat facing us from his private office at the front. His name was James McAllister. We could all see him at his desk behind his glass door, when he was there. He was an avid golfer and often was on the link during the day. He seldom communicated directly with we mere employees. He had a supervisor that relayed all his orders and messages. This was an older man named Townsend. He had thinning white hair and white moustaches. We referred to him as Ha-rumph behind his back. He never began a sentence before first clearing his throat. I don’t really remember the names of the other employees anymore.

I liked my job, but after two months was becoming bored. I had quickly gotten it down to a routine and I was completing my tasks very quickly. Every day I was finding more idle time on my hands and I couldn’t stand not doing something. My assignments were thus. Every hour the mailboys would sweep through and drop a bundle of mail on my desk. I would sort it by employee and deliver it to their in-baskets. Then in the mornings I would receive packets of burner oil tickets. They each had a six-digit number at the top. I sorted them into number order. There was a coding sequence to the numbers that indicated which employee got which tickets. After sorting I distributed the tickets to the proper clerk. I thought the process slow when shown to me at my starting. I developed my own method of sorting, which proved much quicker. This was one of the reasons I had time on my hands.

Sometimes I had to make copies on the Photostat machine. This was my least favorite thing to do. The Photostat was contrary to say the least, and slow. Xerography was just introduced in 1959. Businesses were not widely using it yet. The company that developed that technique became Xerox in 1961.

One of my jobs was to get the clerks supplies when needed. It was a hit or miss proposition. Clerks simply stopped by and said they needed some pens or a certain form and I’d go look in these two cabinets in the center of the room. Often what I needed I wouldn’t find. When I couldn’t find something, I noted it for ordering. Some other clerk ordered monthly, but then just stuffed it into the cabinets where he could find space.

Ha-rumph, Mr. Townsend, had a gruff personality and didn’t like to be bothered, but I went to him anyway. I asked if I could reorganize the supply closets and take over ordering. He ha-rumphed a couple times, but said to go ahead. I completely rearranged the cabinets into what I thought was a logical order. I created an inventory sheet to keep control of the amounts. Now what we needed each month was known with a glance. Even though I now did the ordering I gained time not searching for things not there.

So when I finished my burner tickets, which was sooner every day, I began asking the clerks in the office if I could help them with anything. This way I was learning other jobs and filling my time. I also picked up a few more regular duties because certain clerks had tasks they were more than happy to hand over to somebody else. I didn’t mind. It kept me busy and made the day go faster.

Despite my efficiency, my days were long due to my start-stop times. The train ride took over an hour with all its stops. The Reading didn’t run a lot of trips to Philadelphia. The seven o’clock train didn’t get me into Philadelphia early enough to walk the several blocks to work by 8:30. I had to catch the 6:00 train to be on time at work. I would leave home at 5:30 to drive to the Royersford Station (which I preferred to Pottstown). I wouldn’t get home until after 7:30 in the evening. Of course, in the morning I arrived at my desk a half hour before starting time. I couldn’t clock in, because then they would have to pay overtime, but I wasn’t much for sitting and twiddling my thumbs. I usually started right in on whatever work was available, then at 8:30 went to the big clock and punched in.

I did a lot of reading riding those rails. My tastes were moving into other material beside crime and horror. In July, for instance, the movie “Elmer Gantry” came out. I liked the movie and decided to read the book. I became hooked on Sinclair Lewis. I read through his most famous novels, Main Street, Babbitt, Arrowsmith and I began collecting his books. I have almost every volume he wrote except a couple of his earliest, such as Free Air. Those early ones are hard to come by and I probably couldn’t afford them now if I found them. His themes and style began to influence my own writing.

On January 27, Ronald Tipton entered the Army for basic training at Fort Dix, New Jersey. Stuart Meisel was starting his second semester at Franklin & Marshall. I was working high in the sky in Philadelphia. The old gang was breaking up. On February 1 there was the first lunch counter sit-in by Negroes in Greensboro, North Carolina. The old ways of the United States were on the verge of breaking up as well.

I didn’t hear from Ron until February 20. He had begun the letter on the 14^th, but partway through they sounded lights out and he couldn’t get back to his letter until almost a week later. It was a long letter. He had just completed crawling the infiltration course under live ammo. They had issued him his first pass, but he drew K.P. duty and wasn’t able to use it. He looked on the bright side, “since a lot of guys were on pass there weren’t as many there for chow. Still the pots and pans (my particular job that day, the worst you can get) were piled 5 ft. high.” He was expecting to get a full two-week pass in another couple of weeks calling that thought, “Beautiful”.

“I’ll be so glad when I get home, ” he wrote.

Near the end he wrote, “Sorry I didn’t write Virginia. I’ll try to get a letter off sometime this week.”

Ginny had been asking if I had heard anything from Ron.

On March 5 I received another letter from Ron. He began by mentioning a Mike Tine, who he stated later in the letter was his best friend in the Army. They had their rifle training cancelled because it snowed. I guess it never snows during a war so you don’t need to train in it. He said his training would be through after another week.

Ron had a little accident and made a mess in the mess hall. “I spilled my whole tray just as I was sitting down. I completely overturned it. And the way they keep things moving in that mess hall I completely disorganized things. I had to mop it up and got (sic) another tray. Try doing that sometime, it’s embarrassing as hell.”

He said, “I’m pretty sure I wrote to Ginny five weeks ago but no answer. But maybe I’m mistaken or maybe I forgot to mail the letter. Nevertheless, I’ll write her a letter tonight. I miss her.”

I thought this a bit odd. If I was away and had a girl she would have heard from me before anyone and more often. He said he missed her, but couldn’t even remember if he wrote her or not. If he had, she hadn’t got it because she was still asking me about him.

He ended with, “That’s the thing about the Army. The uniforms are nice.” (A reference to our conversation when he switched from the Navy to the Army.) “Write soon. And if you have any nice girlie books don’t be afraid to send them. No, I just (sic) kidding you.”

In February, while Ron was away, Pamela got interested in some boy at school. I was looking around for a new girlfriend. I had my eye on a girl I had graduated with named Louise Dancy. She was a thin girl with long brown hair. I guess she had that waif look because I was very attracted to her. She is the one I tried to get a date by sending her a Requisition Form. It didn’t work, I never heard from her. She later married Dick Huzzard. They are still married and living in Spring City. They had two daughters and a son. Louise became a welder at ICI in Valley Forge.

I tried this same technical on another girl named Louise. Requisition No. 499894, 2/14/60, to supplier Miss Louise Anne Crothers. Quantity ordered:

“One Louise Anne Crothers – Petite and delicate, cute. Wanted for date at Sunnybrook or anything else convenient. Please Rush. Will call and check with fingers crossed.”

Believe it or not this time it worked.

When Ron came home on leave after his Basic Training, Louise and I were dating. Along with Ginny, we all went to Sunnybrook (pictured left, Ginny Mowrer, me and Louise Crothers.). That was probably the last time Ronald and Ginny saw each other.  Ginny married Robert Alexander within the next few years and they are still together. She raised two daughters and a son and then became the Secretary to the Headmaster at the Church Farm School. It’s a small world. That is the private school that was up Rt. 30 from me when I lived in the swamp.

As far as I was concerned, for all intent and purposes, Sonja Kebbe was gone from my life as well. She had her chance with me and choose otherwise. I saw it as too late for her now. She had her chance with me. She became Administrative Secretary to Judge Harold K. Wood in the U. S. Court House in Philadelphia, a position she held for a dozen years. In 1974 she was unemployed. The last I saw of her was probably 1969 and she had gained a lot of weight. She never married. As late as 1984 she was still living in the same house she grew up in. After that she disappeared from the radar. She has shown up recently living in a Montgomery County assisted living home.

Louise Crothers (pictured left) and I didn’t date very long. She eventually married a J. Ronald Trinley and had two daughters. She was more a footnote between more serious relationships. There was another little redhead waiting in the wings.

But all of a sudden, like a spider on the wall during the summer, Sonja flounced back into my life. Perhaps the jaunty lads of Philly were wearing thin. I kept my determined attitude that she and I were finished, of course. Yeah, right.  I was right back in love with her and blind as ever to whether  I was being used or not, I may have simply been a convenient tool for use when no other was handy, and it seemed suddenly there wasn’t some prince in waiting for her anywhere so I guess it was back to the commoner.

Sonja threw several little soirees as she called them. She mostly invited her new friends from Philadelphia. One of those friends was a young man she met on the train, but he hadn’t shown any romantic interest in her.  He was a composer. I met him at one of these affairs and we spent much of the evening talking to each other while Sonja flitted about playing femme fatale with the new crop of young men who arrived.  I told him about my play and that I didn’t write music well. I knew how to read music and I sometimes composed tunes, but with my bad ear it wasn’t easy. I would write the notes on staff paper and pick out the notes on my trumpet. He agreed to write the music to Ya-Ha-Whoey.

His name was Bob Condon and he lived in Valley Forge. He took me to his home and as we went around this twisting driveway I saw sculptures in the yard. His father did them, he said. His dad was a sculptor.
I didn’t give much thought to it then, but it tuned out his father was a fairly well known sculptor named Rudolph Condon, a friend of Jamie Wyeth. (Rudolph Condon also designed hooked rugs and in 1956 “Life” magazine had featured him in a story. (Pictured above, Rudolph Condon in his car and with one of his sculptures. Pictured left below Rudolph Condon with rug and Jamie Wyeth, the artist.) 

Needless to say, Bob had some connections in Valley Forge. He arranged for a place we could work on the music in private. It was a room up in the bell tower of the Washington Memorial Chapel on the Valley Forge Battleground. This appealed to my gothic horror leanings. We climbed a dark, narrow, twisting stairway to this dim room with a piano part way up in the tower. We were the Phantoms of the Chapel.