Chapter 10, Back To Europe

Shortly after my return from England, my parents decided to move to Southern California, to a small town named Sunnymead, just outside of Riverside. I helped them with the move and stayed a few days with them and was introduced to my future wife, Gail Johnson who was living next door to their new home on Starcrest Drive. I then returned to Sacramento and stayed at my job for a while longer. My brother Kenneth, who had just been released from the military, was living with me. It was only about a year before I decided that I was in a dead end job and headed nowhere, so I decided to join the military. I quit my job and joined my parents in Sunnymead, where I was reintroduced to Gail. I enlisted with the U.S. Air Force, and Gail and I dated for a couple of months before I was called for induction.

I soon found myself in Texas, at Lackland AFB for basic training, and then to Keesler AFB in Biloxi, Mississippi for electronics school.

I was going to be an ATC Radar Maintenance person. Gail and her mom came to see me while I was at Keesler

and we spent much time together while I was home on leave after my initial training. By this time we had decided to be married.  We were married in Las Vegas, Nevada in 1966 after I had completed my basic training and was home on leave before going to my first duty assignment in Sembach, Germany.

Gail joined me in Germany and we had the opportunity to visit much of Europe at the time.

We went to Paris, France and saw all the usual tourist traps, The Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the Arc de Triomphe, we dined on the sidewalks of the “Avenue des Champs-Elysees” and visited the Louvre’. We took a delightful train ride through the Alps on our way to visit Rome, Italy, wherein we purchased cheese, bread, and wine from the window of our train car at each of the stops the train made. In Rome we saw the Trevi Fountain, made famous by the movie “Three Coins in a Fountain” and the song with the same name. We visited the Colliseum unattended, and I have a piece of it to this day on my mantle. While we were in Italy, we took a side trip to visit Pompeii, the ancient town that was buried by the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 A.D. Pompeii is one of the most interesting places I’ve ever seen. We were also able to make a short stop in Pisa, to see the famous leaning tower. Again, we entered unattended and climbed the spiral staircase all the way to the top. I don’t think that is allowed anymore. Near Pisa, was a small town with a very large marble factory and we purchased many of the items we still have in our home today.

We could not leave Germany without a cruise down the Rhine River to view the beautiful “Cliffs of Lorelei,” and that is one of the last things we did during our stay. We were in Germany for about a year and a half before I was reassigned to Griffith AFB in Rome, New York. We spent an uneventful year in New York before I was discharged in September of 1968, Just a couple of months before “Woodstock” took place in that same vicinity. We drove our brand new 1968 Ford Mustang across country, stopping in Oklahoma to visit Gail’s relatives on the way. By October we were back in California to discover that the Hippy movement was in full swing.

                            Gail on the left, Robert on the right
Everyone we knew was smoking marijuana and advocating the “Peace” movement. There was a strong movement against the war in Viet Nam, and against the military in general. We fell in with my sisters Lily and Sandra, and their crowds, and struggled our way through the hippy generation that saw many of our friends lost to drugs and worse. It seemed like none of them realized that they would, one day, have to return to reality, get jobs, and start making lives for themselves. They thought they would be peace-loving hippies for the rest of their lives.

I attended Riverside City College during this time and walked away with an associates degree before my G.I. benefits ran out and I had to go to work. Gail and I bought a couple of homes during the next decade, with the last one being on Bay Avenue in Moreno Valley. This is where we raised our family and spent the next 15 years or so until we purchased our present abode in Riverside in December of 1998. In 2001, I finally realized my lifelong goal of completing my education at the University of Redlands, almost thirty years after I started at the Riverside City College. I graduated with a bachelor's degree 1 year after my daughter Carey had done the same.

Chapter 9, Adventures In England

I stayed with my grandparents for a few days before I was picked up by my Aunt Dorothy, taken to her home, and introduced to my cousins Ken and his sister Pamela.  Pam was only nine or ten when I visited, but just about the cutest little thing I ever saw.  Ken was a couple of years older than me and we spent the summer together, a memory I cherish.

                                          Robert              Ken
That summer was quite an adventure for me. Cousin Ken was a member of a rowing club and I got to row my first scull that summer.  I think they all expected me to roll over and end up in the Trent River, but I made it about a mile or so down stream and returned without any mishap.

I attended the Henley Regatta, in which Ken was a competitor, and got to see much of the English countryside while following him around to the myriad of rowing events. A group of us got together and rented an 8 berth cabin cruiser for the trip to Henley, and we spent several days cruising the rivers and canals of the countryside, going through locks and having draw bridges raised for us. In this way we got to see the back country, and made several stops along the way at remote farms where we bought butter, bacon, mushrooms etc. from farmers who made extra income catering to the river traffic.

I won’t go into details, but girls were everywhere during this excursion, and we were seldom without a boatload of them.

Ken in the center, me on left

 

                          Robert on bottom, Ron on top

Ron was very physical and health oriented all his life.  I learned, many years later, that Ron was killed by an automobile while walking along the road.  Apparently someone had lost control and Ron was hit from behind and never saw it coming.  I remember our summer together, and it was a sad loss of a good soul.   

I went to get a haircut one day and while I was in the chair, the barber offered to show me a few of the local sites. We went to Coventry to see the Cathedral there and to Nottingham to see the castle and roam Robin Hood’s old stomping grounds. Cousin Ken’s family took me to see the fish markets and the seaside resort beaches of Blackpool. One of my favorite things during my visit was the “fish and chip shops” and Blackpool had some of the best. Ken and his family didn’t seem to care one way or the other about the delicacy, but for me, deep fried battered fish was heaven. Another favorite treat was an evening in one of the quaint pubs drinking some of the world’s best beer, and throwing darts.

I have to mention also, that I was afforded a personal distinction during my visit. I called one day to arrange a tour of the Bass Brewery, and was informed that they normally only took groups and the next group was not scheduled for several weeks. For some reason, the tour guide offered me a private tour the following day, which I took him up on. I learned that the brewery was established in 1777 and that when the British government passed the “Trademark Registration Act” in 1875, the Bass company parked an agent at the front door to insure that the Bass label and triangle became Britain’s first and oldest trademark.

All too soon, the summer was over and it was time to go home. I took a train from Burton-on-Trent, back to London and then Southampton. My return voyage was on the Queen Elizabeth. It was another 5-day party interrupted by a hurricane that caused many passengers to be seasick. After landing in New York, I boarded an airplane for the trip back to San Francisco and caught a Greyhound bus back to Sacramento. Shortly after my return, I got a job at a company named “Redi-Spud” delivering potatoes to restaurants. It was a good job and afforded me my own apartment. I bought a Honda 250 Scrambler motorcycle for transportation, which I purchased at “Skip Fordyce” in Riverside, CA., 800 miles to the south. Honda had just come out with their motorcycles in the U.S., and I saw a picture of it in a magazine one day.  The only dealer in the entire state who carried them was Skip Fordyce in Riverside, so off I went.  Little did I know at the time that I would soon be living in Riverside.

Next: Back to Europe

Chapter 8, Meeting My Grandparents

I graduated from High School at the age of 17, with the class of 62', and went to work in “The Hamburger Hut” as a “fry cook.” I worked there about six month, bought a car (a 1957 Pontiac), and things were going great. One day I got the idea to travel to England to see my grandparents. Over the next few months I saved a few dollars, sold my car, and bought a ticket on the “Queen Mary,” sailing from New York in April.  This is the same ship that is now parked in Long Beach, CA as a tourist attraction.

I got my passport and prepared to make the long journey across country for the second time. Just so I could claim the accomplishment, I went to see my “Uncle George” in San Francisco so I could claim that I had hitchhiked from Coast to Coast. I took the Cable Car to Fisherman’s Wharf, where I started my hitchhiking journey. After the first day I was only in the foothills of the Sierra’s, and spent the night in a cheap motel.

The next day, I got a ride from a nice family who took me all the way to Chicago. I was making good time. While I was in Chicago, I heard about a company that delivers automobiles to other states, and I was all lined up for an auto when they discovered my age. I was only 18 and couldn’t be insured. I then took a subway trying to get to the East side of town where I could pick up another ride. To my dismay, the subway trip ended right in the heart of the worst area of Chicago. I didn’t want to exit the train, but the conductor told me it was the last trip of the night and he wasn’t going back. Uneasily, I started on foot toward the main highway. Other than a few derisive remarks from the black folks, I managed to find the highway and my next ride, which took me all the way into New York City. I spent the night at the YMCA, and the next day visited Central Park and the Statue of Liberty.

I was only in New York for about 4 days before my ship was scheduled to depart.  I killed some time by playing pool in the YMCA's game room with some of the locals, only to find out that the "Y" was serving as a halfway house for wayward juveniles!  Like the song "Long Cool Woman (In A Black Dress)" by the Hollies, I was in a "nest of bad men" without the benefit of the woman, or working for the FBI.  After boarding the Queen Mary I found my room, which was shared with another person, and toured my new surroundings. It was very exciting and before we left port, I roamed the ship from one end to the other. There were many other people in my age group, and we all managed to find each other.  The trip took about 5 days, which was one continual party and my first experience at drinking alcohol legally.

After partying for 5 days, I arrived at Southampton and found the train that was going to London. It was late at night when I finally arrived at St. Pancras Station and located the train I needed to get to Burton-On-Trent, the home of my grandparents. I boarded the train and found a room that I had all to myself. I soon dozed off as the train headed out across the English countryside. It was a local train, making many stops, and I did not expect to arrive in Burton-On-Trent until early morning. I was resting comfortably when I suddenly felt a chill in the air that woke me up. I was surprised to see that another strange looking chap with a single upper tooth in his head had joined me in the compartment, and had opened all the windows!! He sat there with several layers of overcoats on while I fought the chill. Finally, I got up and closed the windows and told him if he was hot to remove some of his overcoats. He did not argue with me, but proceeded to tell me that he had just been released from a mental hospital. He was probably trying to intimidate me, but it didn’t work. We passed the remainder of the trip peaceably.

Once in Burton, I caught a double decker bus to 36 Blackthorn Road, Stapenhill, the address of my grandparents.

I arrived early in the morning and my grandmother actually recognized the suitcase I was carrying (from a trip my mother and sister had taken several years previous) and ran out the door to greet me. I had not told them I was coming. They lived in government housing, and heated and cooked with coal. They were delighted when I chopped a months supply of wood kindling for them, and never forgot it. They were a very nice old couple, and I regret that the exuberance of my youth prevented me from getting to know them better during my stay. It seemed like I always had other things to do.

Next: Adventures In England

Chapter 7, Brush With The Law

During the summer vacation between my Junior and Senior year, I hitchhiked from Sacramento to Big Lake Minnesota to spend the summer on a farm owned by a friend of my brother Kenneth’s. It was an exciting adventure for a 16-year-old youth from the city. I met many interesting people on the way, including an artist from San Francisco, a truck driver who took me from Ames Iowa to a remote truck stop near Minneapolis, and a wealthy man driving a Rolls Royce, who picked me up from the truck stop and drove me into Minneapolis. It was raining and “Big Girls Don’t Cry” by the Four Seasons was blasting on his radio all the way. It was my first time ever in a luxury car and that Rolls was smooth and heavy, and a ride that I will never forget. On the farm I helped with all the chores and actually got to “pitch hay” onto the wagon after it was baled. I met Vinnie Ann, the daughter of our hostess, while on the farm. Vinnie Ann eventually ended up marrying Alan Henderson (no relation), the base guitarist for Van Morrison’s band “Them” a couple of years later. When I returned home after the summer, our family had moved yet again, this time, near Broadway, only a few blocks from where we started in the projects 12 years before.

At the “Broadway” house, near the corner of Harkness and 2nd Avenue I was, once again, in the C. K. McClatchy school district and would complete my senior year at McClatchy.

We only stayed in the “Broadway” house for about 3 months before we moved again to another “Broadway” house just a few blocks away. This home was located on the N.E. corner of 17th St. and Burnett Way, very close to the Tower Theater (where years previously I had attended many Saturday Matinees) and record store, on Broadway. I spent many hours in the record store, in a booth listening to 45 rpm’s of Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Buddy Holly, and others. I was re-introduced to my old “first kiss” Valerie S., who was also attending school at McClatchy. She was as nice as ever, but we did not connect other than a cordial relationship. My new friends here were Alex E., Juanita H. (my girlfriend all through my Senior year), and Dave M. I also kept a close relationship with Bill L., and we got together very often. Alex was the son of an engineer who had emigrated from Russia. He was the studious type, but kept up with Bill and I in all of our adventures.

We swam at the Slough House (near Elk Grove), explored the gold country around “Hang Town” where we walked the wooden sidewalks and talked like westerners of old. "Howdy Ma’am," while tipping our hats. We explored many old gold mines which, of course, were very dangerous in hindsight, but we were young and invincible at the time. Bill, Al, Juanita, and I spent many long Friday nights drinking and playing cards until the wee hours of the morning. We would “drag” K Street on Friday nights with an occasional stop at Mel’s drive-in. In 1961, that was the “thing to do.” Down K street to about 8th or 9th, then south to L street and back, past the Capitol Building to 16th street and then North to K street and do it all over again. We would spend hours burning gasoline (at 21 cents/ gal.) this way.

One time, Bill and I had borrowed my brother’s 48’ Ford while he was in San Francisco visiting our Uncle George (actually, Uncle George was only a family friend). Bill and I had been out late and we ran out of gas about a mile from his mom’s house/shop (she was a beautician) near 24th and G Street. We decided to siphon some gas from a parked car but we were discovered by the owner who chased us all over town for about an hour or two. The police got into the chase, and we narrowly escaped being imprisoned. While being chased by police who were in a car, I turned down a dark alley and leaped a 6-foot fence, landing on the other side, in someone’s back yard. Within seconds, the police had made the turn and stopped on the other side of the fence wondering where I had disappeared.  They were too close for me to chance making a move, so I stayed very still until they moved a short distance away. By this time, the owners of the house were aroused and I had to make a hasty retreat through several other yards to get away from the area.  Eventually, I worked my way back to Bill’s mother’s house only to find that Bill was already there, having escaped through a friend’s restaurant. Now all we had to do was figure out how to get my brother’s car back. The police, as we found out later, had impounded it.

I came up with a workable plan, which we put into action the following morning. I called the police department and reported the car “stolen.” They asked me to come down to the station to make out a report, which I did. They were not fooled by my story, but nothing could be proven so they had to let me go. They wanted $120 to release the car from the impound lot, which was an astronomical sum at the time. I called Kenneth in San Francisco and told him I had a buyer for his car for $60. He said “Sell It.” When Kenneth came back to Sacramento we had gathered together the necessary $60 that we gave to him, and we let the police keep the car. Whew!! We got lucky again.  I would graduate from High School after all.

                                         My Yearbook Photo

An interesting event happened at about this time.  I don't remember the exact date, but if you need to find out I'm sure you could find records of it in the San Francisco newspapers.  I was on a Greyhound bus on my way to visit my Uncle George in "Frisco" and was just rounding the curve that leads to the Oakland Bay Bridge.  I looked across the bay in the direction of the Golden Gate Bridge and saw a huge red ball behind the bridge and half hidden by the cliffs.  I would estimate that the ball was several hundred feet in diameter.  I thought it was very unusual and didn't give it much more thought, but when I arrived at my Uncle's apartment on Natoma Street, it was announced on the radio that the red ball had "shot up into the air at fantastic speed and disappeared."

Next: Meeting My Grandparents