Fact Checkers

When I was outlining this post it came to me that the test I spoke of as occurring in 5^th grade may actually have come early in my 6^th grade year for reasons I’ll explain later. But that realization made me think about some other important considerations.

What is written here is written down without fact checkers. What I write can’t be contradicted for the simple reason that my fact checkers, mom and dad, are long dead and neither of my sisters were old enough to know any of these things. So there is my memory alone that supplies details of a time long past, and I have to face the simple truth that my memory can’t be infallible. That is a sobering thought.

The goal of the blog is to set down the truth as I know it: I stated that in the opening post and meant it. That said I am forced to admit that it can only be so accurate.

Memories can be tricky things. For example when I told the story of the floor fan and cracked window incidents I knew them to be true. Why? Because each time I think of them I “see” them as I would if they were happening, not as if I would see them if I were watching from across the room. I am a part of that memory, not an observer. When I wrote of my mom holding me and reading to me as a baby what I speak of is her memory which she gave me by telling the story. When I picture it I see it as an observer and not a participant.

I don’t doubt mom’s story. At the same time I don’t “know” it as I know that I stuck my foot in the fan. Now, with that said let's go back to the results of the test and what developed as a result. (Lousy segue. Sorry.)

The test story is accurate as to who was present and what their roles were, but the date may well be wrong. This is why:

Mom told me that after the test results were in and finally accepted as legit, that “some people” from the school or their reps told mom and dad that after my 6^th grade year I should go directly into 9^th grade. They needed mom and dad’s permission before doing this. 

Mom and dad finally said “no” she told me, but they had disagreed about it. Dad thought it was great but mom thought I would be too out of place with older kids and would feel left out.

As things developed, that same year the Cincinnati school system announced a new program called “College Prep.” The program was for advanced kids and began with 7^th grade. Participants would go through high school but finish 12^th grade with a year’s college credits. I was entered in that program instead.

But we must leave the story here and bring some other areas up to date before we go on.

As with most boys my age dad was my hero. I wanted to be like him and I wanted to be with him and took every opportunity I could to hang around. Our quality time began with his apprenticeship in the stagehand’s union when I was eight. There were several reasons.

Age eight (1956) was the year I fell in love with baseball. Dad was a big Red’s fan—as was mom for that matter. When the Red’s played the radio was always tuned to WSAI. Waite Hoyt was the lead broadcaster. He opened every broadcast the same way: “Welcome to the Burger Beer baseball network, This is Waite Hoyt,” etc.) I can still hear the beer commercial music that played in the background.

It was a great year to be a Red’s fan. They tied the Yankees all-time record for team home runs in a season and finished in third place—just two games behind the Brooklyn Dodgers. Best of all was their Rookie of the Year outfielder Frank Robinson. (pictured above left)

Frank tied the major league record for homers by a rookie (38), made the all-star team and won a little boy’s heart. That was the year dad took me to see my first major league game at Crosley Field. I can still feel the rush I felt when I walked up the ramp and first saw the field. It was beautiful beyond belief and I’ll never forget it. Dad made certain that I learned the ins and outs of the game.

                                       Crosley Field

There were other perks, too. I got to meet the Cisco Kid when he did a live show in town, and another time met Paul Winchell and Jerry Mahoney. Dad brought home pictures autographed by Roy Rogers, Gene Autry and a couple of others. There was another big hoo-rah at home when mom found out dad had taken me to a sign change at a burlesque house. The ladies treated me great and showered me with hugs and kisses. I loved their sparkly sequined costumes--especially their feather hats that made them look seven feet tall.

 Marquee like those dad used to change.

When the circus came to town we had front row seats; the same with the ice follies. Best of all, dad, who ran one of the spotlights, would shine his spot on us before the show and wink it on and off a couple of times so we would know where he was. We couldn’t have been more proud. 

There were a lot of new things that year. We got a car, a television, mom’s hearing aid and more—and it was all due to the union wages dad made. We weren’t rich, but we were no longer poor.

I had some other excitement, too. I was chosen to represent McKinley at what must have been city government day--I can't remember the official name. I went to a council session with my alderman. I was surprised at all the hollering back and forth, and Mayor Clancy was one of the most vocal. (I can't remember his first name, but I can remember his political ads: they used an Irish song that went like this, "Whenever they got his dander up--Clancy lowered the boom!")

They gave us a special lunch. It was a chicken leg and thigh, mashed potatoes and gravy, peas and a roll. The leg and thigh were still attached to one another. I had never seen anything like that before. I thought chicken always came in separate pieces! When my alderman (I wish I could remember his name to give him proper credit) saw I struggled to pick it up to eat he saved me by cutting it in two pieces so I could handle it.

Another thing that happened was that I was selected to be a part of the back to school safety ads for WLW-TV. This was in 1958 when I was ten. Below is a video--all ten seconds of it!. The film had been in the original envelope since it was first sent to us. Though it played on TV (along with videos other kids made) I hadn't seen it until I had it readied for this blog.  Here I am--an overnight success--after just 56 years!

Shot on the McKinley school grounds. (Notice there was no grass!)


For the McCalesters, from 1956 thru most of 1959 were great years.

As for me, other than a few schoolyard tussles and my problems with Mr. Wilhoit I stayed on the good side of the law. Except once.

We had a substitute shop teacher who introduced himself as, “Mr. Jones.” He was a bald guy with a bit of a monk’s ring and explained that he had a helper named Mr. Smith. Then he asked if anyone wanted to meet Mr. Smith.

I raised my hand. Nowadays they would say I made a poor choice. They'd be right. He brought me to the front of the room and got Mr. Smith out. Mr. Smith turned out to be a fraternity paddle. Mr. Jones had me bend over and hold on to the edge of his desk. Then I was introduced. He only hit me once, but it was one hell of a swat and my fanny stung a long time. Mr. Smith had made a lasting impression!

Do I have to tell you the entire shop class was extremely well behaved that day? Didn't think so.

We will leave things here until next time.