The morning routine finds toy poodle, 'Yodie" leading me downstairs for his potty run. Of course, I slip on shoes and go outside with him as a precaution for fear of any nighttime critters hanging around the backyard. I am just thankful the pup goes to bed at nine each night and sleeps until 6 AM; wish his master could do the same. I grab a cup of coffee and read the newspaper before doing my stretching prior to heading out for a forty-five minute walk.
I am back home at about 7:45 AM and do some more stretching...I must do stretching both sides of the walk! I then take a breakfast consisting of: cereal w/ blueberries, toast, juice and coffee upstairs to my wife. We visit while eating breakfast and catch bits of the 'Today Show.' Natalie Morales is the only person, I know, who makes 'bad news' look good.
One morning I came into the bedroom and my wife was watching one of those TV sales programs. She was writing down some numbers and she told me we needed to purchase a 'power washer.' Dismissing that comment, I got to thinking, back in the day before television, those sales hawkers went door to door selling their wares. I recall getting a kick out of the manner in which my maternal grandparents, grandpa, E.V. and Mammy would handle those door-to-door hustlers. Old E.V. would spot'em in the driveway and holler out, "You best mosey on down the road fella, I got chores to do and no time to visit with the 'likes' of you!" Mammy, on the other hand would invite the sales gent inside. She would tell him to, "Sit a spell but stay out of 'that' rocking chair." It was best nobody sat in E.V.'s rocker because sure as hell he'd throw a hissy-fit if he felt other's body-heat on his rocker cushion.
As the salesman was opening his satchel of wares, Mammy began, "How is your soul with the Lord?" At that moment, I always sat down in an obscure corner to watch and listen to the woman work at 'winning one for Jesus.' Let me tell you, that old Bible-toting- tent revival lady could make a fella feel the fires of hell once she got to testifying and talking sanctification. Mammy Bennett took every opportunity to witness. I don't remember Mammy ever buying any thing from the door-to-door solicitor but she always walked him to his automobile and invited him to church 'next Sunday.'
I just wished that I could have been around when a couple of those Jehovah Witness fellas knocked at Mammy's door...holy scriptures, that woulda been one hellava scriptures-interpretation tug-a-war! My Mammy was GOOD with her Godly-messages; when I was a teenager leaving the house for a night out or a date; if Mammy was nearby she would always say, "Young man, remember that Jesus is coming a 'second time.' Should He return tonight, don't you be doing something He'd frown upon!" ...Shake that warning thought from your brain.
Gotta get moving; must stretch and hit the pavement. When I take breakfast upstairs to my wife today, I should tell my her that she can't use that power washer on the toy poodle.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Keep The Line Moving
I read findings from a recent study about 'procrastination.' I should mention that the 'study' had a five-year funding grant but it took 'ten' years to complete; that in itself speaks volumes about the study's credibility!!
It appears that in the past thirty years procrastination percentages among Americans has risen from 5% to 26%. I would believe that these findings explain many of the daily frustrations we all face. I now understand why I wait longer in lines, wait longer for restaurant meals and read more than three magazines while waiting for my doctor's appointment. I conclude that 'service' folks and workers, in general, are not in a hurry. I can simply wait; you can wait. This procrastination statistic also suggests that about 25% of my friends and family members are slow-moving and /or lazy and most likely unreliable.
As is the case with many current social problems the solution can be found in the examination of my parents' generational attitudes. Yep, take a peek back at yesteryear. My father suffered from POWW. You all thought that acronyms were something new; my parents had them. POWW was a common disorder of my folks' generation. It means Pissed Off When Waiting. Here is a hard fact, I cannot recall my father ever asking me to 'do something;' he told me! And God bless him, he had a charming delivery style: "Hey boy, take out the trash and shake a leg." Translation: He wanted the current trash out of the house, not trash we may generate later. As I look back on my mother and father's parenting ways, I forgive them of their silly-ass ideas mainly because they never had an opportunity to read one damn book about a child's feelings and fragile psyche. They had this crazy notion that their children should please them instead of them pleasing me and my two brothers; I told you...silly ass!
Due to my folks' parenting, I grew up with strange quirks regarding time and responsibility. I show up at meetings far too early. If uncertain about direction/location of meeting venue, I scout the route in advance.
Procrastinate? Me? Never! I kid you not, I wrote this blog, which is posted Tuesday October 8, 2013 on Saturday October 5. I will be traveling on October 8. Never put off until tomorrow that which you could have done six-months ago.
It appears that in the past thirty years procrastination percentages among Americans has risen from 5% to 26%. I would believe that these findings explain many of the daily frustrations we all face. I now understand why I wait longer in lines, wait longer for restaurant meals and read more than three magazines while waiting for my doctor's appointment. I conclude that 'service' folks and workers, in general, are not in a hurry. I can simply wait; you can wait. This procrastination statistic also suggests that about 25% of my friends and family members are slow-moving and /or lazy and most likely unreliable.
As is the case with many current social problems the solution can be found in the examination of my parents' generational attitudes. Yep, take a peek back at yesteryear. My father suffered from POWW. You all thought that acronyms were something new; my parents had them. POWW was a common disorder of my folks' generation. It means Pissed Off When Waiting. Here is a hard fact, I cannot recall my father ever asking me to 'do something;' he told me! And God bless him, he had a charming delivery style: "Hey boy, take out the trash and shake a leg." Translation: He wanted the current trash out of the house, not trash we may generate later. As I look back on my mother and father's parenting ways, I forgive them of their silly-ass ideas mainly because they never had an opportunity to read one damn book about a child's feelings and fragile psyche. They had this crazy notion that their children should please them instead of them pleasing me and my two brothers; I told you...silly ass!
Due to my folks' parenting, I grew up with strange quirks regarding time and responsibility. I show up at meetings far too early. If uncertain about direction/location of meeting venue, I scout the route in advance.
Procrastinate? Me? Never! I kid you not, I wrote this blog, which is posted Tuesday October 8, 2013 on Saturday October 5. I will be traveling on October 8. Never put off until tomorrow that which you could have done six-months ago.
Monday, October 7, 2013
Time Released Insight
Recently, I was returning late night to Decatur from a St. Louis Cardinals' baseball game. I was driving alone, which lends itself to divergent thoughts racing about my brain. I suddenly had that urge to telephone my mother. She died last December at the age 93. The logical explanation for this reoccurring urge is simple; I had my mother in my life for seventy-three years so it is understandable that the 'urge' to telephone her is seared in my mind! While driving along I-55, I began thinking of a particular conversation I had with my mother several times during the last year or so of her life. The conversation topic placed us at two opposing perspectives. Today, I am slowly but surely seeing the 'point-of-view' held by mother. Let me profile the conversation and explain: My mother was becoming physically challenged and hurting with mounting-maladies associated with aging. She would frequently wonder aloud saying, "Oh honey, I am so tired and weary, I don't know why my Lord and Savior does not take me home, I am ready."
Friday, October 4, 2013
Just Another List
On numerous occasions, I have been asked by high school basketball followers, 'who are some of the best coaches you coached against during your career?' I came up with the following list of twelve. Here we go:
My first varsity coaching job was at Mason City. We were in the 'Tomahawk Conference.' A most worthy opponent was always the extremely well-coached Mt. Pulaski 'Hilltoppers' of Ed Butkovich.
The best defensive coach was Dawdy Hawkins, who coached Pekin high school in the 1960's. Dawdy was an in-your-face coach-personality. He was tough and employed intimidation. His sound man-to-man defensive principles were flawless. Long time Rock Island coach Duncan Reid was an assistant to Hawkins for about nine years at Pekin before going to R.I as head coach. Duncan's approach was much like Dawdy's.
Sherrill Hanks coached at Alton high school (mid-fifties) when I was a basketball player at East St. Louis high. Later he moved to Quincy high school where I matched wits while coaching Edwardsville in the '70's. Hanks was a 'keep-it-simple' coach. He built excellent programs through a grade school/junior high school feeder system. Coach Hanks perhaps epitomized 'coaching class.'
Vergil Fletcher was another re-load type coach with a simplistic post-up offensive approach. Fletcher's teams could be a difficult preparation because Vergil was always 'swimming against' the current defensive philosophy. Let me explain. When many high school teams were playing zones, Fletcher was playing a man-to-man defense and when the consensus was man-to-man, Vergil was using his 'ball press' (zone) defense. Bob Bone was an outstanding player for Fletcher and later became successful with a similar coaching approach at Collinsville. Another coach similar to the Fletcher 'keep-it-simple-stupid' philosophy was long time Galesburg 'Silver Streaks ' coach John Thiel.
I battled Quincy Coach Jerry Leggett while at Jacksonville. Legget was the best 'offensive' coach that I ever went against. Except for a fast break chance, Leggett's Quincy teams ran a 'special set-play' every time down the floor; they executed the plays with precision. Jerry enjoyed his own antics immensely. A third Quincy coach that developed strong basketball programs at Nokomis and Lincoln before going to Quincy was Loren Wallace. Neil Alexander played for Wallace at Nokomis and today continues to execute a successful game-tempo-controlling ball press.
Chuck Buescher was the poster coach for 'student-of-the-game.' He studied the game and coached with high level intensity. Rich Herrin was similar to Buescher's style but with a 'warm Southern Illinois gentleman flare.'
I never coached against Gene Pingatore, Westchester St. Joseph high school, who recently passed Peoria Manual coach Dick Van Syoc as the all-time winning coach. Van Syoc was a strong teacher of 'individual skills.' He took a matter-of-fact business approach that was successful in the affluent community of Washington and equally successful in the inner-city of Peoria.
Developing and writing down such list is simple folly. It may serve as fun reading for the 'fanatic' and perhaps it is a catalyst for debate. I enjoyed my coaching fraternity relationships. I took one approach as I prepared my teams; the same approach I expected of my players...the sign that hung in my Jacksonville locker room for twenty-one years said it best: 'RESPECT ALL FEAR NONE.'
Okay, I'm going to take Bob Bone off my list!...Bone is married to my niece and we are frequently together at family gatherings... It is unfair to my niece to puff up Bob's ego; after all she must live with him!
My first varsity coaching job was at Mason City. We were in the 'Tomahawk Conference.' A most worthy opponent was always the extremely well-coached Mt. Pulaski 'Hilltoppers' of Ed Butkovich.
The best defensive coach was Dawdy Hawkins, who coached Pekin high school in the 1960's. Dawdy was an in-your-face coach-personality. He was tough and employed intimidation. His sound man-to-man defensive principles were flawless. Long time Rock Island coach Duncan Reid was an assistant to Hawkins for about nine years at Pekin before going to R.I as head coach. Duncan's approach was much like Dawdy's.
Sherrill Hanks coached at Alton high school (mid-fifties) when I was a basketball player at East St. Louis high. Later he moved to Quincy high school where I matched wits while coaching Edwardsville in the '70's. Hanks was a 'keep-it-simple' coach. He built excellent programs through a grade school/junior high school feeder system. Coach Hanks perhaps epitomized 'coaching class.'
Vergil Fletcher was another re-load type coach with a simplistic post-up offensive approach. Fletcher's teams could be a difficult preparation because Vergil was always 'swimming against' the current defensive philosophy. Let me explain. When many high school teams were playing zones, Fletcher was playing a man-to-man defense and when the consensus was man-to-man, Vergil was using his 'ball press' (zone) defense. Bob Bone was an outstanding player for Fletcher and later became successful with a similar coaching approach at Collinsville. Another coach similar to the Fletcher 'keep-it-simple-stupid' philosophy was long time Galesburg 'Silver Streaks ' coach John Thiel.
I battled Quincy Coach Jerry Leggett while at Jacksonville. Legget was the best 'offensive' coach that I ever went against. Except for a fast break chance, Leggett's Quincy teams ran a 'special set-play' every time down the floor; they executed the plays with precision. Jerry enjoyed his own antics immensely. A third Quincy coach that developed strong basketball programs at Nokomis and Lincoln before going to Quincy was Loren Wallace. Neil Alexander played for Wallace at Nokomis and today continues to execute a successful game-tempo-controlling ball press.
Chuck Buescher was the poster coach for 'student-of-the-game.' He studied the game and coached with high level intensity. Rich Herrin was similar to Buescher's style but with a 'warm Southern Illinois gentleman flare.'
I never coached against Gene Pingatore, Westchester St. Joseph high school, who recently passed Peoria Manual coach Dick Van Syoc as the all-time winning coach. Van Syoc was a strong teacher of 'individual skills.' He took a matter-of-fact business approach that was successful in the affluent community of Washington and equally successful in the inner-city of Peoria.
Developing and writing down such list is simple folly. It may serve as fun reading for the 'fanatic' and perhaps it is a catalyst for debate. I enjoyed my coaching fraternity relationships. I took one approach as I prepared my teams; the same approach I expected of my players...the sign that hung in my Jacksonville locker room for twenty-one years said it best: 'RESPECT ALL FEAR NONE.'
Okay, I'm going to take Bob Bone off my list!...Bone is married to my niece and we are frequently together at family gatherings... It is unfair to my niece to puff up Bob's ego; after all she must live with him!
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Many Paths Crossed
During my East St. Louis high school (1955-57) junior/senior basketball seasons, I played against the likes of Alton's Gene Veloff and Bill McAfoos; Edwardsville's Mannie Jackson, Gov Vaughn and Buzz Shaw and Collinsville's Tom Jackson and Terry Bethel. Each individual was an outstanding talent and several went on to have illustrious college careers and some professional runs.
Aside from the aforementioned basketball talents there was another name during that time period that I often heard mentioned; the State's leading scorer from Tamms, Illinois, Charlie "Chico" Vaughn. I did not play high school basketball against "Chico" but while at Illinois State University, I played against 'Chico" when Southern Illinois basketball coach, Harry Gallatin brought his 'Salukis" to Normal. "Chico" Vaughn was every thing people said he was; an uncanny scorer with his impossible to defend 'over-the-head fade-away jump shot.' After college basketball, Charlie "Chico" Vaughn played a stint with the NBA St. Louis 'Hawks.'
During my twenty-one seasons coaching the Jacksonville high school "Crimsons," I coached a player named Andy Kaufmann who lead the State in scoring three consecutive seasons averaging 32.0 per game each season. Often times sports writers would tell me just how many points Andy needed to average his final season to break "Chico" Vaughn's all-time individual IHSA scoring record. I never paid any attention to that hype because we were focused on winning basketball games instead of individual accomplishments; it all made for interesting press clips. After Kaufmann graduated from JHS, he attended the University of Illinois and still today ranks in there top ten scoring leaders. One "Bragging Rights" game versus Mizzou, Kaufmann scored 33 points.
These past thirteen years, I have coordinated an 8-team invitational basketball tournament in Decatur with a field of Springfield Southeast, Springfield Lanphier, Bolingbrook, Harvey-Thornton, Peoria Central, Decatur Eisenhower, Decatur MacArthur and East St. Louis. We have seen more than sixty Division I players come through this tournament. About seven years ago, I invited the State's top two all-time individual scorers to be saluted by Decatur basketball fans. "Chico" Vaughn and Andy Kaufmann met for the first time; one I had played against the other I had coached.
When Vaughn was introduced the crowd stood and applauded his state's top scoring number of 3.358 points, all before the 3-point shot. The audience came unglued when Kaufmann (3,160 PTS.) was introduced after the reminder of the 'Iowa game-winning shot.' The introduction went as follows: "Chico" was introduced and dribbled a basketball to center court. He then faked several passes to Andy awaiting his introduction at the bench. Finally, "Chico" passed the ball to Andy for his introduction. Someone later asked "Chico" why he hesitated 'passing' the basketball from center court to Kaufmann; "Chico" said, "I didn't score all those points 'passing' the ball. Believe me, Chico, Andy understood THAT logic!
It was a neat moment for two great basketball players and many fans.
Aside from the aforementioned basketball talents there was another name during that time period that I often heard mentioned; the State's leading scorer from Tamms, Illinois, Charlie "Chico" Vaughn. I did not play high school basketball against "Chico" but while at Illinois State University, I played against 'Chico" when Southern Illinois basketball coach, Harry Gallatin brought his 'Salukis" to Normal. "Chico" Vaughn was every thing people said he was; an uncanny scorer with his impossible to defend 'over-the-head fade-away jump shot.' After college basketball, Charlie "Chico" Vaughn played a stint with the NBA St. Louis 'Hawks.'
During my twenty-one seasons coaching the Jacksonville high school "Crimsons," I coached a player named Andy Kaufmann who lead the State in scoring three consecutive seasons averaging 32.0 per game each season. Often times sports writers would tell me just how many points Andy needed to average his final season to break "Chico" Vaughn's all-time individual IHSA scoring record. I never paid any attention to that hype because we were focused on winning basketball games instead of individual accomplishments; it all made for interesting press clips. After Kaufmann graduated from JHS, he attended the University of Illinois and still today ranks in there top ten scoring leaders. One "Bragging Rights" game versus Mizzou, Kaufmann scored 33 points.
These past thirteen years, I have coordinated an 8-team invitational basketball tournament in Decatur with a field of Springfield Southeast, Springfield Lanphier, Bolingbrook, Harvey-Thornton, Peoria Central, Decatur Eisenhower, Decatur MacArthur and East St. Louis. We have seen more than sixty Division I players come through this tournament. About seven years ago, I invited the State's top two all-time individual scorers to be saluted by Decatur basketball fans. "Chico" Vaughn and Andy Kaufmann met for the first time; one I had played against the other I had coached.
When Vaughn was introduced the crowd stood and applauded his state's top scoring number of 3.358 points, all before the 3-point shot. The audience came unglued when Kaufmann (3,160 PTS.) was introduced after the reminder of the 'Iowa game-winning shot.' The introduction went as follows: "Chico" was introduced and dribbled a basketball to center court. He then faked several passes to Andy awaiting his introduction at the bench. Finally, "Chico" passed the ball to Andy for his introduction. Someone later asked "Chico" why he hesitated 'passing' the basketball from center court to Kaufmann; "Chico" said, "I didn't score all those points 'passing' the ball. Believe me, Chico, Andy understood THAT logic!
It was a neat moment for two great basketball players and many fans.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Lucky to be One of His Boys
An Edwardsville high school graduate from the 1970's, emailed me recently on a myriad of subjects and mentioned that the last time he 'saw' me was at Louis 'Pick' Dehner's funeral visitation; that was many years past. 'Pick' Dehner was born and grew up in Lincoln, Illinois and later attended the University of Illinois where he was named a basketball All-American in 1939. Dehner, upon graduating from Illinois accepted the basketball and baseball coaching positions at East St. Louis high school where he would remain for a 32-year career; he was my coach in both basketball and baseball from 1954-through-1957. I had a special relationship with Coach Dehner and we shared a love for the game and respect for one another.
I would not deny that Coach Dehner was a tough coach for whom to play or perhaps better stated, he made it difficult to perform under his sarcastic and critical nature. I began grade school in Washington Park (E. St . L) at mid-year, which naturally plays out as a mid-year high school graduate. At some point during my junior high and summer baseball playing, Coach Dehner made the assessment that I would better 'serve' his two programs (baseball and basketball) if I would drop out of school for a semester and return thus positioning me to have two full back-to-back seasons and graduating in June.
After pitching for his spring 1954, varsity 'Flyers,' I continued school the fall of '54 and then I dropped out the second semester as I became sixteen years old. I then returned to East Side High the following fall with my junior and senior years ahead. The decision worked out to Dehner's benefit and certainly to my advantage. Dehner won a couple of SWC baseball titles and a Regional basketball tournament. I would have likely never attended college had I not been recruited with the offer of a free education by the baseball and basketball coaches at Illinois State. Two back-to-back years playing baseball and basketball for Dehner was 'the key.'Therein lies the 'special' relationship forged by Coach Dehner and his prote'ge.' He later attempted to discourage me from entering the 'coaching profession.' When he realized that I was going to become a coach, he took me aside and gave me this advise: "If one of player, any given season, loves the game as you, consider yourself lucky." He then added: "You better develop tough skin quickly."
When playing basketball at East Side for 'Pick,' I recall once pouting about something he had said. He jerked me off the floor and told me to come to him to reenter the game once I finished acting like a baby. I was determined to stay seated on the bench when assistant coach Lou Wapple came to me and said, "Moe, how long have you known Dehner?" I said, "Since I was in the sixth grade." Coach Wapple then asked, "Have you ever seen him lose one of these bull-headed standoffs?" I got up went to Coach Dehner and said, "I'm ready to play, Coach." He looked into my eyes and said, "Don't ever act like that again!"...he then told me to take it for another player.
Back then I got that 'eye look' from another man; my father. I once complained about my high school basketball team and my dad put his fork down at our supper table and said, "Boy, you look at me! Don't bring your sport problems to our family supper table; I never bring my work problems to our table. If you don't like something on your team then do something to change it!"
Many years later, Pick and I squared off as SWC coaching adversaries. One night, Greg Ahart hit a jump shot at the horn to beat Dehner's 'Flyers' at East Side. When our 'Tigers' were leaving East St. Louis' gym to return to Edwardsville, Dehner yelled at me,
"Roustio, you always were lucky!"
I emailed-replied my Edwardsville friend to tell him that I was at Coach Dehner's funeral...I was one of the pallbearers along with Billy Altenberger, Joe Lucco, Virgil Fletcher and Tony Pawlow; indeed, an honor
Coach Dehner was correct; I was always lucky...every time one door closed another door opened with incredible opportunities.
Tomorrow...My connection with the top two all-time IHSA prep basketball scorers.
I would not deny that Coach Dehner was a tough coach for whom to play or perhaps better stated, he made it difficult to perform under his sarcastic and critical nature. I began grade school in Washington Park (E. St . L) at mid-year, which naturally plays out as a mid-year high school graduate. At some point during my junior high and summer baseball playing, Coach Dehner made the assessment that I would better 'serve' his two programs (baseball and basketball) if I would drop out of school for a semester and return thus positioning me to have two full back-to-back seasons and graduating in June.
After pitching for his spring 1954, varsity 'Flyers,' I continued school the fall of '54 and then I dropped out the second semester as I became sixteen years old. I then returned to East Side High the following fall with my junior and senior years ahead. The decision worked out to Dehner's benefit and certainly to my advantage. Dehner won a couple of SWC baseball titles and a Regional basketball tournament. I would have likely never attended college had I not been recruited with the offer of a free education by the baseball and basketball coaches at Illinois State. Two back-to-back years playing baseball and basketball for Dehner was 'the key.'Therein lies the 'special' relationship forged by Coach Dehner and his prote'ge.' He later attempted to discourage me from entering the 'coaching profession.' When he realized that I was going to become a coach, he took me aside and gave me this advise: "If one of player, any given season, loves the game as you, consider yourself lucky." He then added: "You better develop tough skin quickly."
When playing basketball at East Side for 'Pick,' I recall once pouting about something he had said. He jerked me off the floor and told me to come to him to reenter the game once I finished acting like a baby. I was determined to stay seated on the bench when assistant coach Lou Wapple came to me and said, "Moe, how long have you known Dehner?" I said, "Since I was in the sixth grade." Coach Wapple then asked, "Have you ever seen him lose one of these bull-headed standoffs?" I got up went to Coach Dehner and said, "I'm ready to play, Coach." He looked into my eyes and said, "Don't ever act like that again!"...he then told me to take it for another player.
Back then I got that 'eye look' from another man; my father. I once complained about my high school basketball team and my dad put his fork down at our supper table and said, "Boy, you look at me! Don't bring your sport problems to our family supper table; I never bring my work problems to our table. If you don't like something on your team then do something to change it!"
Many years later, Pick and I squared off as SWC coaching adversaries. One night, Greg Ahart hit a jump shot at the horn to beat Dehner's 'Flyers' at East Side. When our 'Tigers' were leaving East St. Louis' gym to return to Edwardsville, Dehner yelled at me,
"Roustio, you always were lucky!"
I emailed-replied my Edwardsville friend to tell him that I was at Coach Dehner's funeral...I was one of the pallbearers along with Billy Altenberger, Joe Lucco, Virgil Fletcher and Tony Pawlow; indeed, an honor
Coach Dehner was correct; I was always lucky...every time one door closed another door opened with incredible opportunities.
Tomorrow...My connection with the top two all-time IHSA prep basketball scorers.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Class and Dignity
Dean Harris...Part 3
The funeral plans for Dean called for a wake visitation at Officer Funeral Home (East St. Louis) one evening and burial the next day in that river city. I immediately held concerns for hundreds of young teens from Edwardsville high school who may attend the wake and the possibility of becoming lost in some questionable areas of my 'hometown.' By the year 1974, East St. Louis was beginning to experience some serious crime-ridden pockets. (Note: Within the last four years, I drove through East St. Louis and felt unsafe in my old neighborhood of Washington Park; it both angers and saddens me). We could not allow scores of young people to risk problems simply wishing to pay respect to their friend, Dean Harris.
I telephoned 'Tree' and Hazel to express my concerns about the wake being in East St. Louis and ask them if they would sign-off on having Dean's visitation in the foyer of the Edwardsville high school gym. Dean's parents concurred with my safety assessments and agreed; now I just needed to convince a school board, which was always prepared to reject any of my proposals. Fortunately, my Principal, Neal Schmelzel prevailed with his plea to the higher powers and the Dean Harris visitation was scheduled for the Edwardsville high school site. Of course, as expected, there was some critical rumblings from the 'old guard' naysayers and folks with blinding personal vendettas.
I have attended many wake-visitations during my life's journey and I can state without reservations that I have never witnessed such somber dignity. Dean's white casket was positioned directly in front of the gymnasium foyer's athletic trophy case. The 'full-body-view' casket held the body of a beautiful and talented young man. Positioned to each side of the casket was an honor guard; all former Edwardsville 'Tigers' basketball teammates each of whom recalled happy moments of playful joking with their friend and competing feverishly together to 'win-the-game.' Dressed in white tuxedos, each player stood frozen in motion with expressionless somber stares as if they simply could not do enough to express a 'Brotherly love.' I have never experienced a more proud moment for 'my players.'
Over one thousand five hundred visitors signed the memorial-registration book and filed past Dean Harris to whisper their personal goodbyes. The last two people coming through the receiving line...long time basketball adversary, Coach Virgil Fletcher and wife Violet. Coach Fletcher shook my hand and said, "Mel, I am so sorry we are all here tonight." I could not have agreed more; this venue was for spirited-fun competition between talented youngsters. We are not supposed to be here for this heartbreaking gathering.
The next day Dean's family, friends, high school and college teammates along with coaches assembled in an East St. Louis Church where sincere (eulogy) words were spoken and naturally falling short of easing our terrible pain. A young man was laid to eternal rest that day and a 'DREAM' ended. We all returned to our respective life challenges never forgetting a talented basketball player with a warm and friendly manner.
I will honestly admit that a part of my heart never healed from that experience. I would not deny other contributing factors.
The funeral plans for Dean called for a wake visitation at Officer Funeral Home (East St. Louis) one evening and burial the next day in that river city. I immediately held concerns for hundreds of young teens from Edwardsville high school who may attend the wake and the possibility of becoming lost in some questionable areas of my 'hometown.' By the year 1974, East St. Louis was beginning to experience some serious crime-ridden pockets. (Note: Within the last four years, I drove through East St. Louis and felt unsafe in my old neighborhood of Washington Park; it both angers and saddens me). We could not allow scores of young people to risk problems simply wishing to pay respect to their friend, Dean Harris.
I telephoned 'Tree' and Hazel to express my concerns about the wake being in East St. Louis and ask them if they would sign-off on having Dean's visitation in the foyer of the Edwardsville high school gym. Dean's parents concurred with my safety assessments and agreed; now I just needed to convince a school board, which was always prepared to reject any of my proposals. Fortunately, my Principal, Neal Schmelzel prevailed with his plea to the higher powers and the Dean Harris visitation was scheduled for the Edwardsville high school site. Of course, as expected, there was some critical rumblings from the 'old guard' naysayers and folks with blinding personal vendettas.
I have attended many wake-visitations during my life's journey and I can state without reservations that I have never witnessed such somber dignity. Dean's white casket was positioned directly in front of the gymnasium foyer's athletic trophy case. The 'full-body-view' casket held the body of a beautiful and talented young man. Positioned to each side of the casket was an honor guard; all former Edwardsville 'Tigers' basketball teammates each of whom recalled happy moments of playful joking with their friend and competing feverishly together to 'win-the-game.' Dressed in white tuxedos, each player stood frozen in motion with expressionless somber stares as if they simply could not do enough to express a 'Brotherly love.' I have never experienced a more proud moment for 'my players.'
Over one thousand five hundred visitors signed the memorial-registration book and filed past Dean Harris to whisper their personal goodbyes. The last two people coming through the receiving line...long time basketball adversary, Coach Virgil Fletcher and wife Violet. Coach Fletcher shook my hand and said, "Mel, I am so sorry we are all here tonight." I could not have agreed more; this venue was for spirited-fun competition between talented youngsters. We are not supposed to be here for this heartbreaking gathering.
The next day Dean's family, friends, high school and college teammates along with coaches assembled in an East St. Louis Church where sincere (eulogy) words were spoken and naturally falling short of easing our terrible pain. A young man was laid to eternal rest that day and a 'DREAM' ended. We all returned to our respective life challenges never forgetting a talented basketball player with a warm and friendly manner.
I will honestly admit that a part of my heart never healed from that experience. I would not deny other contributing factors.
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