CLOSE CALLS
There are times in one's life when he has some close calls; I've had my share. In fact, I thought I'd had all of my share until two days ago (August 23, 1988). One of the state of Tennessee's mowers threw a missile of some kind into the front of my Toyota Van. It actually penetrated the metal! What if what-ever-it-was had come through the windshield? I would not have been here today.
My earliest brush with death came at the tender age of five years old: 1945 found everyone in Carthage Tennessee "in town" on Saturday night walking, visiting and window shopping. World War II was almost over and the country wanted to get "OUT". My Dad often barbered until midnight on Saturdays: Shaves were fifteen cents and haircuts were a quarter.
Our automobile, a 1937 Chevrolet Touring Sedan had been stolen in 1943 by some of General Patton's soldiers and we had to walk for a few years. There were no cars available since all steel production went toward winning World War II. We were in-town on a Saturday night like many hundreds of others and were heading home when my mother thought I was old enough to cross the street alone (Main Street) to get two bags of popcorn.
I made it across the very busy street just fine. Folks spotted me, a little tyke, attempting to cross and they stopped to let me pass. But on the return trip I was in the middle of the street when some popcorn blew out of the bag in my left hand! I looked to see where it went and was stopped abruptly when the fender of an Oldsmobile came to rest against my chest! The visibly shaken driver waved me on, and my mother learned a lesson and so did I!
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The second time was when I was a junior at Smith County High in Carthage, TN. I was one who thought he could do anything and most everyone else was willing to stand out of the way and let me try. It is still one of my favorite sayings; "After all is said and done, there's a lot more said than done!" I have always been one who acted rather than talked about it or thought it through.
In my junior year I emerged as one of the leaders of the high school band. I knew that I was going to be a band director and I figured I'd give leadership my best shot. Lots of things worked out well that year, but one occurrence almost cost me my life!
The Smith Co. High School football field is in a hollow made by a spring many years ago. One evening I volunteered to turn on the field lights (having never done so before) in total darkness. I went down to the electrical boxes and opened the protective doors. I didn't know that the switches were on the outside of the boxes. I opened the boxes, standing in the wet grass when my hand neared the for fuse terminals inside: the electrical energy danced over my arm and down my leg. It quickly occurred to me that I had gone too far. I closed the box, found the switch that turned the field lights on. A quick look inside the switch boxes showed me just how close I had come to being killed.
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The third time I was close to death or dismemberment (that I know of) was on a high school band trip to the Tennessee Polytechnic Institute's Homecoming Parade and football game. I was almost run over again by a speeding celebrant.
One time my best childhood friend, Sonny Apple pulled me out of a creek by my hair in order to keep me from drowning! I WAS on my way down! There were many times when we boys were messing around down at the river when we had close calls. We were never really aware of any danger.
I've been shot at twice; I don't like it!
As teenagers in Carthage we were always looking for something "harmless" to do to occupy our time. One of our favorite "tricks" was to put five boys on each side of the street and wait for a car to come. We would yell "PULL" at the top of our lungs and act as if there was a rope between the opposing groups! The cars always screeched to a stop, and we would laugh and jeer the driver for being so gullible.
One night we played this trick on Gerald Maggart's father who was a man short of temper. When he stopped he had a pistol at hand and proceeded to fire it in the air as we made hasty retreat!
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Three of us went to Gordonsville, just riding around, the main occupation of teenagers in the "fiftys." I decided to see just what the '55 Chevy could do going west out of town!
As I hit 70 mph I decided that making the 90 degree turn toward Carthage was going to be impossible so I went straight on toward Brush Creek. Just beyond that point there is a small rise with just enough pitch to get a '55 Chevy airborne. Sonny Apple. was sitting in the middle of the front seat. Sonny's head hit the head liner twice before we slammed back to the pavement. It was very funny about 10 seconds after we had touched down!
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My first gainful employment began at Fred Cleveland’s Pharmacy. The druggist running the store was Gene Oldham was paying off was old man Cleveland. Competition was stiff because Carthage was a small town and there were three drug stores on the main street.
Some customers wanted home service for their prescriptions and cigarettes and I was often called upon to deliver the goods. Gene’s car was a ’53 Ford straight shift that I barely knew how to drive and had no license to do so. It was great fun to give it the gas and the “smoke the tires.”
Evidently some local busybodies had taken notice of my driving antics. One afternoon I was standing in the front of the store with my mind a mile and a half away when there appeared Dave Porter the Smith County Sheriff.
Sheriff Porter got in my face and suggested that I needed to change my ways given that my parents would be disappointed and I would suffer sure and certain consequences if I continued to drive in the manner to which I had become accustomed!
A personal visit from the county sheriff will get things straightened out pretty quickly! Trust ME on that!
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