Returning to school for the senior year, l worked for Dad again, mostly at the service station or delivering home heating oil and propane and in the fall a couple of weeks for the ranch during round-up.
Dad and l had been talking the specifics of my time at UNR: l wanted to study art, thinking to become an illustrator. He, who had wanted to be an architect, (actually an architectural engineer) thought it would be better for me to get a PE degree first and then study architecture. We went back and forth on this one and finally he said that he would pay for it if l studied engineering, but not if l studied art. Somehow, it never occurred to me that l could go to work and pay for it myself, like so many others have done, so l agreed to go with engineering.
Two months before graduating high school, l turned seventeen and within a few days reported to the National Guard and got signed up. Because of my driving experience, they assigned me to drive what they called a "deuce and a half" (two and a half ton truck) in which l carried about twenty-some soldiers to the training areas. About a month into summer vacation, our NG unit, an anti-aircraft artillery company did our two week
training at a remote spot in central ldaho where we employed large-bore
ak-ak cannons to knock drones out of the sky. What l remember most about that experience was the ear- splitting boom of the many cannons along
the firing line. One good thing; there was no mud to march, slog or crawl in.
Both Dad and Mom accompanied me on the 270 mile trip to UNR. Once l was registered and moved into my room, they drove the 270 miles back. l walked down to South Virginia Street and spent the evening at the Golden Hotel
lounge, where Peggy Lee (a popular singer of the 50s and 60s) was headlining
with Rowan and Martin opening for her. (A stand-up comedy team of that era, who,in the 60s co-hosted the very popular TV show "Laugh In"). What a nite! l had seen plenty of live performers at the three large hotel-casinos in Elko.
In fact, big-name entertainers at casinos was the original idea of "Red" Ellis,
owner of the Commercial Hotel in Elko. But that night at the Golden Hotel l became a fan. Of The Golden Hotel, of Peggy Lee, and of Rowan and Martin.
So, by the time l'd been at UNR for a month l had spent so much time soaking up entertainment at the various casinos and so little time in class (out all nite,
sleeping 'til mid-afternoon, missing most of my classes, l was totally screwing up. My last class of the day, fortunately enough, was ROTC. l was always up in time to get to that class and never missed it. (the NG paid only for attended
ROTC classes). That class required no study whatsoever. We were a performing synchronized marching group composed of about twenty-five young men apparently chosen for their close proximity to being 6'0" tall and weighing under two-hundred pounds. We were the ridiculous-looking guys wearing the
tall, visored, feather-topped head gear,the formal army uniform, white gloves,
patent leather shoes and most importantly, the real, though disabled M1 rifle
that was at the center of our show. Oh, our show had plenty of fancy-dance
kinda marching; this way, that way and another, sometimes together, others
apart. Forward, backward and sideways, but when the rifles leave the right shoulders to begin their dance, spontaneous applause often ensues within a few seconds. To give newcomers an idea of what would be in store for them,
we were invited to sit back during our first day at class and just watch. l must admit that my hands were among the clapped; in fact, after seeing the first
few minutes l wondered if l'd be able to do it. Afterward, the captain told me that there would be many practice sessions (one every school day) and few performances in a given year ." If you're not ready for the next performance
we'll just shoot for the one after that."
Dad had a niece in Reno who was married to a man who owned a nursery/
rockery. His name was Fred. Dad had arranged for me to work for him a few hours on weekends, servicing some of his delivery trucks. On my first day there, having risen at an hour to which l was un-accustomed (but still almost
two hours late) Fred forgave me and he walked us to the parked trucks,
wished me well and left me to my task. The situation was a little off-putting:
The trucks were parked on graded dirt strewn with rocks about the size of
limes. There was no shop building or any covered area or any pavement. l
admit that l was a little bit spoiled when it came to work area: At home my
work was done in a large, two-bay garage with concrete floors, hydraulic hoists, power lube and grease dispensers and undercar, wheeled light stands. l had a horrible day: l managed to grease,change oil and top off the other fluids in four trucks, while crawling around in the rocky dirt beneath them but, somehow
neglected to replace the crankcase plug in one of them, resulting in the engine's disintegration. Which is what caused the loss of that job on day one.
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