In the mid to late '50s I was a big fan of Roy Rogers. I always watched his show every time it was on our little black and white TV. It featured Roy and his horse Trigger, Dale Evans and her horse Buttercup, and their comic sidekick Gabby Hayes who sometimes rode his horse Phineas or drove an old military jeep he named Nellybelle. They usually either fought bad guys or rescued somebody from some dire situation.
There was also lots of singing of western themed songs on the show. Roy had a band called the Sons of the Pioneers. They sang and harmonized really well. When I'd lie in bed at night it would be real dark; the only light coming from the dial of the radio next to my bed. Whenever "Ghost Riders in the Sky" came on I would get kinda spooked but at the same time I liked it; a lot. They had a lot of good songs; "Tumbling Tumbleweeds", "Cool Water," and of course the show ended with "Happy Trails." I had a whole Roy Rogers outfit, cowboy hat, vest, chaps, toy guns, pajamas, and a lunch pail; with Roy Rogers name on all of it.
So one day I'm waiting at the end of our driveway for the school bus to pick me up and take me to Loma Prieta Elementary school. The houses were so far apart in the Santa Cruz Mts. that there wasn't really a bus stop you walked to. They just picked you up at your house. So I climb aboard the bus and right there in the front seat are two hoods right out of one of those bad '50s movies about rebellious teenagers. Hair greased back, t-shirts with the sleeves rolled up, black pants, and a menacing sneer on their faces. I could almost hear the sleazy saxophone music in the background. As I walk by them one of them sticks out his foot and trips me, sending me to the floor. My Roy Rogers lunch pail goes flying. I pick myself up, grab my lunch, and find a seat. This went on for some time. Occasionally the bus driver would yell at the hoods but not much came of it. I learned their names were Ratnose and Clancy. They were much bigger than all the other kids on the bus and they were scary. Once, after getting an elbow to the ribs from Ratnose, I'm looking for a seat and this kid says I can sit with him.
His name was Jason and we became fast friends. He had lots of freckles, buck teeth, and always had his mouth open. He also had a tendency to drool on his shirt. He was a little older than me and told me not to worry about Ratnose and Clancy anymore; he'd take care of it. Sure enough the hoods left me alone. Maybe they didn't want to get drooled on.
One afternoon my Mom calls out to me from the kitchen, "Bobby, there's someone here to see you." I run to the door and its Jason asking if I can go to his house to play. I ask my mom and she says yes. We climb into his mom's car and off we go. His mom is talking non-stop and I thought she was talking to us in the back seat but Jason tells me no, she does this all the time. She was having a conversation with herself. We went for quite a ways and she finally turns off onto a gravel road. It winds up and up this mountain until we get to the very top.
I had never seen a house like this before; it's very large and it's round. There's a second story that was a little smaller with lots of windows; it too was round with a round roof. The house looked like a flying saucer built out of wood and glass. There were some old rusting cars and tractors off to one side by a dilapidated old barn. Jason opens up the big double doors and we go inside followed by his mom who, for the time being, has stopped talking to herself. Jason gives me a tour of the house and explains that his dad is an architect and he designed the house and built a lot of it himself. There's a huge sunken round living room and in the middle is a round fireplace with the metal chimney that looked like an upside down funnel suspended by chains from the ceiling. We went outside and played on the rusty tractors and pretended we were driving them. I really wanted to see the little turret type room on the second floor but Jason said that was off limits. That was his dad's office and no one was allowed up there. His mom fixed us some sandwiches for lunch and then drove me home.
This was repeated many times. They'd pick me up; the mom talking to herself; Jason and I would play on the tractors and then go home. Eventually Jason and his mom started giving me a ride to school and back which was great because that meant I didn't have to deal with Ratnose and Clancy.
Then one day they didn't show up and Jason wasn't on the bus. He wasn't at school either so I thought maybe he was sick. After several days he's back on the bus but he looks really different. His head was shaved including his eyebrows. There were cuts and lumps all over his head and he didn't look too happy. He told me his mom was sick and in the hospital and then he just turned away and looked out the window. I think he was crying. Several years later my mom told me that Jason's mom was put in a mental institution. My mom felt bad for letting me ride around with Jason's mom but she didn't know about the lady's mental problems and looking back on it, my mom told me any number of bad things could of happened to me.
We moved away and I don't know what became of Jason, his mom, or Ratnose and Clancy; not that I care much about those last two! I've still got a few Roy Rogers record albums and although my original cowboy outfit is long gone, I bought a boxed set of DVD's of some of his shows and I bought a reproduction of a Roy Rogers lunch pail. So sing along:
"Happy trails to you... until we meet again... happy trails to you, keep smilin' until then....."
The Roy Rogers Show - Happy Trails to You
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
Jason Milby
Jason Milby was a miserable man. He had no friends and was stuck in a dead end job with no chance of advancement. His life was the same every day. Get up, get dressed, and walk to work. His job was boring and redundant just like his life; just keep doing the same thing over and over. He didn't care for the people he worked with in the large nondescript building. They all talked about the scores of last nights games or about their children or any other topic they wanted to foist upon anyone within earshot. The one exception was a girl named Betsy who worked in a different department. She was always kind and helpful. She was concerned about Mr. Milby living alone with no friends, no hobbies, and no family. What relatives he had all lived far away and never called or came to visit.
One day Betsy brought in a kitten and insisted that Mr. Milby take it. He was reluctant but finally agreed. On his walk home he put the kitten in his coat pocket; it's head poking out looking at everything with an occasional little "mew." He stopped by a small grocery store and picked up a bag of groceries for himself and some food and kitty litter for the kitten. He'd never had a cat before but after a short time they became best friends. He never named the cat; just called it "cat." The cat would always greet him at the door to his small apartment when he came home from work. The cat was a small blessing for Jason Milby. At least someone cared about him and he had someone to care for. After a small dinner, cat would curl up on his lap while he read one of his favorite books, usually an adventure novel. Jason Milby would get lost in these books. He imagined himself in some far away jungle hacking away through the the underbrush with his machete or sailing to exotic ports on a three masted ship visiting beautiful deserted islands. But this was not to be, as Jason Milby was in his small apartment with his cat in his lap waiting for another day to pass.
Mr. Milby always took the same route to and from work. He had done this for so many years he often thought to himself he could do it blindfolded, except of course for the intersections with the cars whizzing by. So Jason Milby is on his way home from work with a stop at the small store for a frozen dinner and maybe a treat for cat. He rarely cooked a dinner; just bought things that could be heated up; frozen pizza, canned stew, or soup.
He was almost to the store when he saw a big commotion ahead. Firetrucks, ambulance and police cars. The whole area was blocked off with yellow caution tape. He was directed to use an alternate route by a policeman. There had been a bad accident and no one could enter the area.
Now all the years Mr. Milby lived in this city he had never walked on this other street. He was so close to the market and then just another block to his apartment. He kept looking back over his shoulder at his familiar surroundings wishing he could just go the way he always did.
It was a warm afternoon so he stopped to take off his coat and carry his hat. He even rolled up his shirt sleeves; something he hadn't done since he was a kid. He starts walking and sees an attractive young woman dressed all in white walking in the opposite direction. She smiles and says, "Hello there." Mr. Milby, not used to talking to strangers, especially pretty ones, manages to stammer out, "Uh, hello." Strange, he thinks, I don't know that woman. Why would she say hello to me? Just then a small boy runs past and brushes against Milby's pants leg. The boy stops and says, "Sorry Mister." Milby just smiles and waves to the young lad.
The sun is beating down on his thinning hair and reflecting off his glasses. It reminds him of when he was a boy and his grandfather took him fishing ever so often. The sun bearing down as they sit beside a clear cool mountain lake. Fishing pole in hand; hoping for an interested trout. His grandpa always looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. White stubble covering his lined face with his ever present pipe clenched between his teeth. The smell of the cherry flavored tobacco mixed with scent of the pine trees.
He makes a turn at the corner and is relieved as he's getting closer to home. Half way down the block he spots a small butcher shop. He enters, hoping he can find something for cat and himself. He walks by all the glass cases with steaks, chicken, and pork. He notices, at the very back of the store, a section for fish. The butcher says, "The trout is fresh; just came in today and I'll sell it to you at half price." Mr. Milby picks out a nice big one to share with cat. The butcher wraps it up and wishes him a good day. Jason Milby thinks, my, people sure are friendly around here.
Jason Milby is now walking with a little spring in his step. He's going to have trout for dinner, something he hasn't done in so long he cannot remember when was the last time. He finally makes it to the apartment building and climbs the stairs. Sure enough, cat is waiting at the door and smells the fish instantly. Mr. Milby and cat are excited; fresh trout stuffed with chopped onion and fried in butter. This is a special occasion so Milby digs through the closet to find an old radio that he hasn't played in years, plugs it in and it still works. Jason Milby gets busy chopping the onion and getting out a suitable pan. He tunes in a good radio station and finds himself humming along to the music. He is smiling as cat rubs back and forth on his shins hoping he'll drop something to the floor. The fish starts to sizzle and pop in the pan.
Suddenly there's a knock at the door. Who could that be? He rarely has visitors. Opening the door it turns out to be the young couple who live down the hall. "Um, excuse me Mr. Milby, but is everything alright? We heard music and could smell something cooking." You see, Milby had lived such a quiet existence eating his canned food this was quite out of the ordinary, and certainly no music ever came from this apartment. Milby invites them in, Bill, his wife Karen, and their young boy, Tim. Milby has never had this many people in his apartment before. He scrambles looking for some folding chairs and an old bottle of wine he had saved.
The house guests are seated and Milby explains how he bought the fish at the butcher shop. He turns down the music and Bill and Tim walk into the small kitchen area to look at the trout. It's so big it barely fits in the pan. Bill says, "Man, I haven't been fishing in years, Mr. Milby." Milby replies, "I haven't either and please just call me Jason, or better yet, Jay." Milby pours the wine and finds a soda for Tim in the back of the refrigerator. Milby, the host, invites them to stay for dinner but they decline. Bill asks Milby if he knows of any good fishing spots around the area. Milby tells him of where he went as a boy with his grandfather and it's not too far away. He describes the beauty of the place and the hungry trout that ply the cool clear mountain waters. Bill asks, "Mr. Mil...er I mean Jay, could you show us where this lake is sometime; it sounds like heaven. We could all go together and make a day of it." "I'd be glad to; how about tomorrow?" replies Milby. Bill responds, "But a couple of things, Jay, I smoke a pipe and I don't want it to bother you, and also, don't you have to work tomorrow?" Jason Milby smiles and says, "I'm fine with pipe smoke and I'm calling in sick tomorrow. I'm sick of work and the only cure is to go fishing."
The next morning the four of them pile into Bill's car and head for the lake. Tim sings a song he learned in school and pretty soon they're all singing. They arrive at the lake and it's just as Milby remembered it. Bill lit his pipe and sure enough, it was cherry flavored tobacco. The water is like glass, reflecting the mirror image of the trees and the mountains which still had snow on the very top. Karen had packed a picnic lunch which they enjoyed as the sun shined down. The water was occasionally disrupted by a trout leaping catch an insect. They all caught a fish or two, but Tim caught the biggest. It was a wonderful day. One they would repeat many times.
If Jay hadn't taken that detour that day to the other street he never would've met his new friends. He never did go back to his job. He moved out of the city and into a cabin close to the lake. But then again, maybe he was the one in that bad accident by the store and this was all a dream. Either way, he's in heaven. It's said you can still see old Jay walking along the shore of the lake, fishing pole in hand, with cat following close behind.
One day Betsy brought in a kitten and insisted that Mr. Milby take it. He was reluctant but finally agreed. On his walk home he put the kitten in his coat pocket; it's head poking out looking at everything with an occasional little "mew." He stopped by a small grocery store and picked up a bag of groceries for himself and some food and kitty litter for the kitten. He'd never had a cat before but after a short time they became best friends. He never named the cat; just called it "cat." The cat would always greet him at the door to his small apartment when he came home from work. The cat was a small blessing for Jason Milby. At least someone cared about him and he had someone to care for. After a small dinner, cat would curl up on his lap while he read one of his favorite books, usually an adventure novel. Jason Milby would get lost in these books. He imagined himself in some far away jungle hacking away through the the underbrush with his machete or sailing to exotic ports on a three masted ship visiting beautiful deserted islands. But this was not to be, as Jason Milby was in his small apartment with his cat in his lap waiting for another day to pass.
Mr. Milby always took the same route to and from work. He had done this for so many years he often thought to himself he could do it blindfolded, except of course for the intersections with the cars whizzing by. So Jason Milby is on his way home from work with a stop at the small store for a frozen dinner and maybe a treat for cat. He rarely cooked a dinner; just bought things that could be heated up; frozen pizza, canned stew, or soup.
He was almost to the store when he saw a big commotion ahead. Firetrucks, ambulance and police cars. The whole area was blocked off with yellow caution tape. He was directed to use an alternate route by a policeman. There had been a bad accident and no one could enter the area.
Now all the years Mr. Milby lived in this city he had never walked on this other street. He was so close to the market and then just another block to his apartment. He kept looking back over his shoulder at his familiar surroundings wishing he could just go the way he always did.
It was a warm afternoon so he stopped to take off his coat and carry his hat. He even rolled up his shirt sleeves; something he hadn't done since he was a kid. He starts walking and sees an attractive young woman dressed all in white walking in the opposite direction. She smiles and says, "Hello there." Mr. Milby, not used to talking to strangers, especially pretty ones, manages to stammer out, "Uh, hello." Strange, he thinks, I don't know that woman. Why would she say hello to me? Just then a small boy runs past and brushes against Milby's pants leg. The boy stops and says, "Sorry Mister." Milby just smiles and waves to the young lad.
The sun is beating down on his thinning hair and reflecting off his glasses. It reminds him of when he was a boy and his grandfather took him fishing ever so often. The sun bearing down as they sit beside a clear cool mountain lake. Fishing pole in hand; hoping for an interested trout. His grandpa always looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. White stubble covering his lined face with his ever present pipe clenched between his teeth. The smell of the cherry flavored tobacco mixed with scent of the pine trees.
He makes a turn at the corner and is relieved as he's getting closer to home. Half way down the block he spots a small butcher shop. He enters, hoping he can find something for cat and himself. He walks by all the glass cases with steaks, chicken, and pork. He notices, at the very back of the store, a section for fish. The butcher says, "The trout is fresh; just came in today and I'll sell it to you at half price." Mr. Milby picks out a nice big one to share with cat. The butcher wraps it up and wishes him a good day. Jason Milby thinks, my, people sure are friendly around here.
Jason Milby is now walking with a little spring in his step. He's going to have trout for dinner, something he hasn't done in so long he cannot remember when was the last time. He finally makes it to the apartment building and climbs the stairs. Sure enough, cat is waiting at the door and smells the fish instantly. Mr. Milby and cat are excited; fresh trout stuffed with chopped onion and fried in butter. This is a special occasion so Milby digs through the closet to find an old radio that he hasn't played in years, plugs it in and it still works. Jason Milby gets busy chopping the onion and getting out a suitable pan. He tunes in a good radio station and finds himself humming along to the music. He is smiling as cat rubs back and forth on his shins hoping he'll drop something to the floor. The fish starts to sizzle and pop in the pan.
Suddenly there's a knock at the door. Who could that be? He rarely has visitors. Opening the door it turns out to be the young couple who live down the hall. "Um, excuse me Mr. Milby, but is everything alright? We heard music and could smell something cooking." You see, Milby had lived such a quiet existence eating his canned food this was quite out of the ordinary, and certainly no music ever came from this apartment. Milby invites them in, Bill, his wife Karen, and their young boy, Tim. Milby has never had this many people in his apartment before. He scrambles looking for some folding chairs and an old bottle of wine he had saved.
The house guests are seated and Milby explains how he bought the fish at the butcher shop. He turns down the music and Bill and Tim walk into the small kitchen area to look at the trout. It's so big it barely fits in the pan. Bill says, "Man, I haven't been fishing in years, Mr. Milby." Milby replies, "I haven't either and please just call me Jason, or better yet, Jay." Milby pours the wine and finds a soda for Tim in the back of the refrigerator. Milby, the host, invites them to stay for dinner but they decline. Bill asks Milby if he knows of any good fishing spots around the area. Milby tells him of where he went as a boy with his grandfather and it's not too far away. He describes the beauty of the place and the hungry trout that ply the cool clear mountain waters. Bill asks, "Mr. Mil...er I mean Jay, could you show us where this lake is sometime; it sounds like heaven. We could all go together and make a day of it." "I'd be glad to; how about tomorrow?" replies Milby. Bill responds, "But a couple of things, Jay, I smoke a pipe and I don't want it to bother you, and also, don't you have to work tomorrow?" Jason Milby smiles and says, "I'm fine with pipe smoke and I'm calling in sick tomorrow. I'm sick of work and the only cure is to go fishing."
The next morning the four of them pile into Bill's car and head for the lake. Tim sings a song he learned in school and pretty soon they're all singing. They arrive at the lake and it's just as Milby remembered it. Bill lit his pipe and sure enough, it was cherry flavored tobacco. The water is like glass, reflecting the mirror image of the trees and the mountains which still had snow on the very top. Karen had packed a picnic lunch which they enjoyed as the sun shined down. The water was occasionally disrupted by a trout leaping catch an insect. They all caught a fish or two, but Tim caught the biggest. It was a wonderful day. One they would repeat many times.
If Jay hadn't taken that detour that day to the other street he never would've met his new friends. He never did go back to his job. He moved out of the city and into a cabin close to the lake. But then again, maybe he was the one in that bad accident by the store and this was all a dream. Either way, he's in heaven. It's said you can still see old Jay walking along the shore of the lake, fishing pole in hand, with cat following close behind.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Beer Can Beach
When our family vacationed here in the late 50's South Shore was a much different place. The casinos were all one or two story, Heavenly Valley was still a small ski resort, and the only movie theater in town was a Quonset hut with wooden benches and a dirt floor up by Stateline. In the summers there were good sized crowds at the beaches and at the casinos but come winter time many motels and restaurants would close for the season; it was that slow.
In 1962 we became full time residents and South Shore was under a big transformation for the next several years. Now there were hydroplane races held on the lake every summer. Big, fast boats powered by twelve cylinder Rolls Royce or Allison aircraft engines. These boats were real cool looking and really loud. Miss Budweiser, Miss Harrah's, Miss Bardahl, to name a few. I could hear them all the way from Bijou Elementary as they practiced. Heavenly Valley began construction of the tram, which is where I worked after graduating from high school. The casinos started expanding out and up. Harvey's was the first to build a hotel tower. Okay, it was only ten stories but it seemed like a big deal at the time. Homes were being built everywhere. If you had a dirt bike you could ride on the miles and miles of trails that ran through the woods. The city had not been incorporated yet so there were very little if any regulations like there are now. With all this rampant development and activities there were a lot of mistakes made and a lot of irreparable damage done. The dredging of the wetlands to build Tahoe Keys comes to mind.
Which brings me to the dredging of Ski Run Marina. When they cut the channel to get to the lake, the beach was cut in half. The beaches were connected by a wooden bridge. You walked up a flight of stairs and across a walkway and then down another set of stairs to the other side. The walkway was about 25 feet above the channel so the boats could come and go and the beach goers had access to both beaches.
Now the main beach where the rental office, the concession stand, and the pinball machines were (the last two being where all my measly pay wound up), was considered the "family" beach. Once you crossed the bridge over to the other side you were at the infamous (drum roll, please), "Beer Can Beach"!!!
This place had quite a reputation. The college kids came in droves to drink and go wild. It earned the name from all the empty beer cans and wine bottles left in the sand. As more and more partyin' young kids showed up each week, they kept moving down the beach to make room for more. Pretty soon the crowd grew so big they were on a private beach that belonged to Lakeland Village. The owners of this resort didn't like all these half-naked, drunk young college kids in bikinis and Bermuda shorts rampaging on their private property. Lakeland Village was a quiet resort that mostly catered to a more sedate crowd. It was a heavily forested area with about 20 little cabins connected by a meandering one-lane road. It's where my folks honeymooned in '53. At first they tried security guards to get the kids to leave but they were vastly out numbered. So one day they put up a 6 foot high cyclone fence that went from the waters edge following their property line all the way back to where the marina's boat ramp was.
This action did not set well with the crowd which was growing in numbers daily at Beer Can Beach. Now, I wouldn't call it a riot but there was definitely some anger in the crowd and lots of drinking. Just like when I saw The Kingsmen playing "Louie Louie" on the "family" beach earlier that summer, my boss once again tracked me down and sent me home.
The next morning I show up for work and start cleaning the "family" beach first. I notice the cyclone fence is gone. I walked over there and there are lots of tire tracks in the sand. I walk over to the main channel to the lake and there's all the fence in a couple of big rolls, sitting at the bottom in 15 feet of water. Someone had used a truck or a jeep, pulled up the fence, and rolled it into the water-way.
The old security guard, asleep in the office, never woke up during this whole thing. They got rid of him and hired someone to watch the place all night. They winched up the fence out of the water and re-installed it. Finally, after a couple of years, things calmed down and the crazy college kids found other places to party.
So farewell, Beer Can Beach. I'm sure there are lots of people, 10 or 12 years older than me, who still remember their wild times there. And maybe, just maybe, they remember that skinny little kid with the tan who was always hangin' around, eyes buggin' out from what he saw and experienced.
Bob
In 1962 we became full time residents and South Shore was under a big transformation for the next several years. Now there were hydroplane races held on the lake every summer. Big, fast boats powered by twelve cylinder Rolls Royce or Allison aircraft engines. These boats were real cool looking and really loud. Miss Budweiser, Miss Harrah's, Miss Bardahl, to name a few. I could hear them all the way from Bijou Elementary as they practiced. Heavenly Valley began construction of the tram, which is where I worked after graduating from high school. The casinos started expanding out and up. Harvey's was the first to build a hotel tower. Okay, it was only ten stories but it seemed like a big deal at the time. Homes were being built everywhere. If you had a dirt bike you could ride on the miles and miles of trails that ran through the woods. The city had not been incorporated yet so there were very little if any regulations like there are now. With all this rampant development and activities there were a lot of mistakes made and a lot of irreparable damage done. The dredging of the wetlands to build Tahoe Keys comes to mind.
Which brings me to the dredging of Ski Run Marina. When they cut the channel to get to the lake, the beach was cut in half. The beaches were connected by a wooden bridge. You walked up a flight of stairs and across a walkway and then down another set of stairs to the other side. The walkway was about 25 feet above the channel so the boats could come and go and the beach goers had access to both beaches.
Now the main beach where the rental office, the concession stand, and the pinball machines were (the last two being where all my measly pay wound up), was considered the "family" beach. Once you crossed the bridge over to the other side you were at the infamous (drum roll, please), "Beer Can Beach"!!!
This place had quite a reputation. The college kids came in droves to drink and go wild. It earned the name from all the empty beer cans and wine bottles left in the sand. As more and more partyin' young kids showed up each week, they kept moving down the beach to make room for more. Pretty soon the crowd grew so big they were on a private beach that belonged to Lakeland Village. The owners of this resort didn't like all these half-naked, drunk young college kids in bikinis and Bermuda shorts rampaging on their private property. Lakeland Village was a quiet resort that mostly catered to a more sedate crowd. It was a heavily forested area with about 20 little cabins connected by a meandering one-lane road. It's where my folks honeymooned in '53. At first they tried security guards to get the kids to leave but they were vastly out numbered. So one day they put up a 6 foot high cyclone fence that went from the waters edge following their property line all the way back to where the marina's boat ramp was.
This action did not set well with the crowd which was growing in numbers daily at Beer Can Beach. Now, I wouldn't call it a riot but there was definitely some anger in the crowd and lots of drinking. Just like when I saw The Kingsmen playing "Louie Louie" on the "family" beach earlier that summer, my boss once again tracked me down and sent me home.
The next morning I show up for work and start cleaning the "family" beach first. I notice the cyclone fence is gone. I walked over there and there are lots of tire tracks in the sand. I walk over to the main channel to the lake and there's all the fence in a couple of big rolls, sitting at the bottom in 15 feet of water. Someone had used a truck or a jeep, pulled up the fence, and rolled it into the water-way.
The old security guard, asleep in the office, never woke up during this whole thing. They got rid of him and hired someone to watch the place all night. They winched up the fence out of the water and re-installed it. Finally, after a couple of years, things calmed down and the crazy college kids found other places to party.
So farewell, Beer Can Beach. I'm sure there are lots of people, 10 or 12 years older than me, who still remember their wild times there. And maybe, just maybe, they remember that skinny little kid with the tan who was always hangin' around, eyes buggin' out from what he saw and experienced.
Bob
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Pedal Pushing
I think it was in the year 1966 that some friends and I decided to ride our bikes around the lake, spending the night on North Shore and then continue the next day on to home. There were four of us, all motel kids. Ralph and his brother Bill, their family owned the Lake Haven motel, and Mike whose family owned the Carriage House motel both up at Stateline, and my folks still had the Alta Vista motel at Ski Run Blvd.
We had Schwinn Varsity 10 speeds except for Mike; he had a Schwinn Continental which was considered top-of-the-line at the time. I bought a Continental after my Varsity was stolen a few years later. We tied on our big bulky Coleman sleeping bags to our rear mounted bike racks along with canteens full of water and some food stuffed inside our sleeping bags.
Now bear in mind this is far from a hi-tech bike ride. We had heavy bikes, high top tennis shoes, Levis and t-shirts. No lightweight bikes, no Spandex riding shorts or light colorful jerseys, no helmets or gloves or even sunglasses. Just four kids going for a 72-mile ride around a lake with lots of hills and no bike trails; just hug the edge of the road and hope you don't get hit by a car or crash into something.
We started at Stateline, headed east, and made it to Cave Rock with no problems. Then we start climbing Spooner Summit. Not real steep but long. We took many breaks getting off our bikes to sip some water and wipe the sweat off our faces. We were glad to see the turnoff for North Shore, the road there winds down a gradual decline and gave us a chance to cool off and rest our legs as we coasted along.
We rolled into Kings Beach late in the afternoon; tired and hungry. Bill went a ways down the road looking for a campground and Mike rode into town to buy some soda and food. Ralph and I hung out at the beach and noticed a tiny island about 50 feet offshore. We take off our shoes, roll up our pants legs and wade on out to take a look-see.
Turns out the place is perfect; trees and bushes surround the perimeter but the center is open with enough room for all of us to sleep. Bill comes back and the campground is full and Mike comes back with some provisions. We decide the island is where we'll sleep so we carry our bikes out there and I find enough dead wood to make a small fire.
I had brought a small can of Vienna sausages and a few pieces of bread which I tried to toast over the fire; a pretty gross dinner (I haven't eaten Vienna sausages since; yech!) but it was enough to fill me up and ready myself for the ride around the rest of the lake the next day.
We got up early and headed down the West Shore to complete our circuit. Our next big hurdle was Dollar Point, a short but steep hill. So steep, in fact, we got off our bikes and pushed them up the hill. Pretty much smooth sailing after that, pedaling through Tahoe City, Sunnyside, Homewood, and all those other little communities.
Then we got to Emerald Bay. The road along the ridge line is beautiful! You've got the bay on one side, Cascade Lake on the other, and Tahoe out in front of you. Once you drop off the ridge there are several sharp hairpin turns as the roadway rapidly drops in elevation. I started picking up speed even with my hands on the brakes. I make the first couple of curves but on the last one I was going too fast and went off the road into the soft dirt shoulder, my bike violently going from side to side. Fortunately, I finally got back on the road just in time to cross the small bridge that spans Cascade Creek. A close call! The rest of the ride home was nice as we rode through the aspen groves and forest around the Camp Richardson area.
A few years ago we were camped in the boat at Emerald Bay. I was up early to watch the sunrise and get ready for fishing. My morning solitude was interrupted by a bunch of bike riders up on the road. "America's Most Beautiful Bike Ride," an annual event here. They were all hooting and hollering as they first caught sight of the bay. At first I was angry but then I remembered my time up on that road on my Schwinn and how elated I was. My anger turned to joy as I began to wave to them from the back deck of the boat, grinning and thinking about my time in the saddle with legs burning and sweat running down my face. A 12-year-old kid who, all those years ago, did what these folks were doing now.
Pedal on my friends, pedal on.
Bob
We had Schwinn Varsity 10 speeds except for Mike; he had a Schwinn Continental which was considered top-of-the-line at the time. I bought a Continental after my Varsity was stolen a few years later. We tied on our big bulky Coleman sleeping bags to our rear mounted bike racks along with canteens full of water and some food stuffed inside our sleeping bags.
Now bear in mind this is far from a hi-tech bike ride. We had heavy bikes, high top tennis shoes, Levis and t-shirts. No lightweight bikes, no Spandex riding shorts or light colorful jerseys, no helmets or gloves or even sunglasses. Just four kids going for a 72-mile ride around a lake with lots of hills and no bike trails; just hug the edge of the road and hope you don't get hit by a car or crash into something.
We started at Stateline, headed east, and made it to Cave Rock with no problems. Then we start climbing Spooner Summit. Not real steep but long. We took many breaks getting off our bikes to sip some water and wipe the sweat off our faces. We were glad to see the turnoff for North Shore, the road there winds down a gradual decline and gave us a chance to cool off and rest our legs as we coasted along.
We rolled into Kings Beach late in the afternoon; tired and hungry. Bill went a ways down the road looking for a campground and Mike rode into town to buy some soda and food. Ralph and I hung out at the beach and noticed a tiny island about 50 feet offshore. We take off our shoes, roll up our pants legs and wade on out to take a look-see.
Turns out the place is perfect; trees and bushes surround the perimeter but the center is open with enough room for all of us to sleep. Bill comes back and the campground is full and Mike comes back with some provisions. We decide the island is where we'll sleep so we carry our bikes out there and I find enough dead wood to make a small fire.
I had brought a small can of Vienna sausages and a few pieces of bread which I tried to toast over the fire; a pretty gross dinner (I haven't eaten Vienna sausages since; yech!) but it was enough to fill me up and ready myself for the ride around the rest of the lake the next day.
We got up early and headed down the West Shore to complete our circuit. Our next big hurdle was Dollar Point, a short but steep hill. So steep, in fact, we got off our bikes and pushed them up the hill. Pretty much smooth sailing after that, pedaling through Tahoe City, Sunnyside, Homewood, and all those other little communities.
Then we got to Emerald Bay. The road along the ridge line is beautiful! You've got the bay on one side, Cascade Lake on the other, and Tahoe out in front of you. Once you drop off the ridge there are several sharp hairpin turns as the roadway rapidly drops in elevation. I started picking up speed even with my hands on the brakes. I make the first couple of curves but on the last one I was going too fast and went off the road into the soft dirt shoulder, my bike violently going from side to side. Fortunately, I finally got back on the road just in time to cross the small bridge that spans Cascade Creek. A close call! The rest of the ride home was nice as we rode through the aspen groves and forest around the Camp Richardson area.
A few years ago we were camped in the boat at Emerald Bay. I was up early to watch the sunrise and get ready for fishing. My morning solitude was interrupted by a bunch of bike riders up on the road. "America's Most Beautiful Bike Ride," an annual event here. They were all hooting and hollering as they first caught sight of the bay. At first I was angry but then I remembered my time up on that road on my Schwinn and how elated I was. My anger turned to joy as I began to wave to them from the back deck of the boat, grinning and thinking about my time in the saddle with legs burning and sweat running down my face. A 12-year-old kid who, all those years ago, did what these folks were doing now.
Pedal on my friends, pedal on.
Bob
Friday, March 18, 2011
Hey, Javelin!
I think it was in 1968 when my dad pulled into the driveway with a new car, an AMC (formerly Studebaker) Javelin, lime green with black "racing stripes" on the side and on the hood. It was stock and had an automatic transmission with a 304 engine and Tiger Paw tires. The tires had a thin red stripe that went around the sidewall denoting their "raciness."
My mom was appalled at this car in front of our house. Dad had traded in our comfortable Chrysler 300 for this lime green, stiff riding two door muscle car with bucket seats, dual exhaust and its eye catching color and air foil. I thought it was great! Dad has always liked cars and he just felt he had to have this one. There was a TV commercial out at the time that showed two cars at a stop light. The lady in the car next to the Javelin rolls down her window and says to the driver next to her, "Hey, Javelin!" Corny, but it became a catch phrase for the car. It wasn't as fast as some of the cars of that time but it was still pretty quick and handled well and it looked kinda cool in its own funky lime green way.
My dad taught me how to drive when I was just a little guy so now he went to the next level. He allowed me to start driving the Javelin. I didn't have a license or even a learner's permit yet. I was the only freshman at high school who was driving to school and parking next to the seniors and their hot-rodded Mustangs, GTOs, Camaros, '57 Chevys and the like.
So one weekend I'm cruising around town. My short hair parted in the middle, wearing aviator type sunglasses, head band firmly in place, and the radio tuned into the appropriate rock station and of course the seat is tilted back. Gotta look cool ya know. I see a couple of guys I know from school down at the beach. They want to go for a ride in my lean, green machine. They want to go to High Meadows, a meadow up in the mountains with a stream running through it, which is at the end of a long and bumpy steep dirt road.
All is well at the start but then we come to the creek. The creek or river is not real big, maybe 25 feet across and about a foot or more deep. You need to cross this stream and continue up the dirt road in order to get to High Meadows. I slowly inch across and get stuck on a rock. For a truck or jeep it wouldn't have been a problem. But for the Javelin? Problem! Not only was I stuck on the rock, the water got into the engine compartment and it wouldn't re-start. One of the guys hiked out and hitchhiked to my folks place and my dad eventually showed up with his truck and tow rope. Boy was he pissed! And he had every right to be pissed. Here I was, out in the woods, stuck in the middle of a river on a rock with his hot rod lime green Javelin.
I had abused my privilege of using the car and that pretty much ended my use of it. Dad pulled the car off the rock and out of the river. The other guy that was with me just walked home, he wanted no part of my angry dad and the trouble I was in. I got the car started and followed Dad home to the corner of Glenwood and Pioneer. Back to the Schwinn 10 speed for me! I saved my money and eventually bought a Corvair which I decorated in a most outlandish way. I'll tell you about that at another time.
Take care,
Bob
My mom was appalled at this car in front of our house. Dad had traded in our comfortable Chrysler 300 for this lime green, stiff riding two door muscle car with bucket seats, dual exhaust and its eye catching color and air foil. I thought it was great! Dad has always liked cars and he just felt he had to have this one. There was a TV commercial out at the time that showed two cars at a stop light. The lady in the car next to the Javelin rolls down her window and says to the driver next to her, "Hey, Javelin!" Corny, but it became a catch phrase for the car. It wasn't as fast as some of the cars of that time but it was still pretty quick and handled well and it looked kinda cool in its own funky lime green way.
My dad taught me how to drive when I was just a little guy so now he went to the next level. He allowed me to start driving the Javelin. I didn't have a license or even a learner's permit yet. I was the only freshman at high school who was driving to school and parking next to the seniors and their hot-rodded Mustangs, GTOs, Camaros, '57 Chevys and the like.
So one weekend I'm cruising around town. My short hair parted in the middle, wearing aviator type sunglasses, head band firmly in place, and the radio tuned into the appropriate rock station and of course the seat is tilted back. Gotta look cool ya know. I see a couple of guys I know from school down at the beach. They want to go for a ride in my lean, green machine. They want to go to High Meadows, a meadow up in the mountains with a stream running through it, which is at the end of a long and bumpy steep dirt road.
All is well at the start but then we come to the creek. The creek or river is not real big, maybe 25 feet across and about a foot or more deep. You need to cross this stream and continue up the dirt road in order to get to High Meadows. I slowly inch across and get stuck on a rock. For a truck or jeep it wouldn't have been a problem. But for the Javelin? Problem! Not only was I stuck on the rock, the water got into the engine compartment and it wouldn't re-start. One of the guys hiked out and hitchhiked to my folks place and my dad eventually showed up with his truck and tow rope. Boy was he pissed! And he had every right to be pissed. Here I was, out in the woods, stuck in the middle of a river on a rock with his hot rod lime green Javelin.
I had abused my privilege of using the car and that pretty much ended my use of it. Dad pulled the car off the rock and out of the river. The other guy that was with me just walked home, he wanted no part of my angry dad and the trouble I was in. I got the car started and followed Dad home to the corner of Glenwood and Pioneer. Back to the Schwinn 10 speed for me! I saved my money and eventually bought a Corvair which I decorated in a most outlandish way. I'll tell you about that at another time.
Take care,
Bob
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
A Fine Mess
As Oliver Hardy used to say to Stanley, "This is another fine mess you've gotten us into." And just like Stanley, it wasn't Japans fault they are in the horrible situation they are in. Earthquakes happen without warning. What is most unfortunate is there are 56 nuclear power plants on this tiny stretch of land. The second one just exploded yesterday with other plants showing signs of doing the same. Add to that, a volcano blows its top on a nearby island. Now I just read where a third plant just blew due to over heating. Good lord, what's next, locusts?
All these events bring me to ask, are you prepared? Are you prepared for flood, fire, earthquake, or severe weather? How about an economic collapse or a highly contagious disease? These things happen suddenly and you have no time to get your stuff together at the last minute and head for the hills or wherever. Have a well thought out plan and leave it open to modify as you wish.
Here are some tips as to what I've done. Start at home, stockpiling canned goods and jugs of water, flashlight, and portable radio with spare batteries. Buy a couple of folding multi-tools. I liked my Leatherman so much I bought one for Christy as well. Small first-aid kits and extra medication if your on it as well as extra soap and toiletries. Plenty of pet food, don't forget your furry friends! I bought a portable generator years ago and, though rarely used, it gives me a sense of security knowing I can have electricity in the event of a loss of power. Always keep at least 10 gallons of gas in your garage or stored somewhere. I use mine for the snow blower but always try to keep them topped off. Lots of blankets and lots of candles.
Next is your car. You can throw together a little box of things that won't take up much room in your trunk but could be really helpful in the advent of your finding yourself in a compromising situation. A plastic tarp, a blanket, large bottle of water, first aid kit, your tools, and some snacks like energy bars and jerky which have a long shelf life.
I don't mean to come off as sounding all paranoid, I'm just saying its easy to do these things and it could really could make a difference if you find yourself in a bad way. We are also working on our "to go boxes". These are Rubber Maid plastic totes, kinda like half a garbage can with a snap on lid. In these we will stash food , first aid , water, and all the other stuff so if we have to leave in a hurry we can throw these in the truck and go to wherever.
The other day, after the first nuclear explosion, a friend said, "Oh, that radiation will never get here, we're to far away." I'll tell you this, several years ago there was a light yellowish tinge to the sky. At first I thought it was smoke from a forest fire but I couldn't smell smoke. It turned out what was overhead was dust from a wind storm in Africa and these little particles had traveled around the world. Japan is not all that far away in the grand scope of things . BE PREPARED!!
Bob (the boy scout who never was one), cub scout for a half a year
All these events bring me to ask, are you prepared? Are you prepared for flood, fire, earthquake, or severe weather? How about an economic collapse or a highly contagious disease? These things happen suddenly and you have no time to get your stuff together at the last minute and head for the hills or wherever. Have a well thought out plan and leave it open to modify as you wish.
Here are some tips as to what I've done. Start at home, stockpiling canned goods and jugs of water, flashlight, and portable radio with spare batteries. Buy a couple of folding multi-tools. I liked my Leatherman so much I bought one for Christy as well. Small first-aid kits and extra medication if your on it as well as extra soap and toiletries. Plenty of pet food, don't forget your furry friends! I bought a portable generator years ago and, though rarely used, it gives me a sense of security knowing I can have electricity in the event of a loss of power. Always keep at least 10 gallons of gas in your garage or stored somewhere. I use mine for the snow blower but always try to keep them topped off. Lots of blankets and lots of candles.
Next is your car. You can throw together a little box of things that won't take up much room in your trunk but could be really helpful in the advent of your finding yourself in a compromising situation. A plastic tarp, a blanket, large bottle of water, first aid kit, your tools, and some snacks like energy bars and jerky which have a long shelf life.
I don't mean to come off as sounding all paranoid, I'm just saying its easy to do these things and it could really could make a difference if you find yourself in a bad way. We are also working on our "to go boxes". These are Rubber Maid plastic totes, kinda like half a garbage can with a snap on lid. In these we will stash food , first aid , water, and all the other stuff so if we have to leave in a hurry we can throw these in the truck and go to wherever.
The other day, after the first nuclear explosion, a friend said, "Oh, that radiation will never get here, we're to far away." I'll tell you this, several years ago there was a light yellowish tinge to the sky. At first I thought it was smoke from a forest fire but I couldn't smell smoke. It turned out what was overhead was dust from a wind storm in Africa and these little particles had traveled around the world. Japan is not all that far away in the grand scope of things . BE PREPARED!!
Bob (the boy scout who never was one), cub scout for a half a year
Sunday, March 6, 2011
My First Rock and Roll Show
So back in about 1963 or '64 I was still working at Ski Run marina during the summers. They doubled my salary; I was now making $2.00 dollars a day. What was I going to do with all this new found wealth? But along with the extra dollar also came more responsibility. I was now giving instructions to the people renting the boat on how to operate it and how to find their way back to the marina, using the face of Heavenly Valley as a point of reference. I'd load up the life jackets, give my little talk, untie them from the dock, and send them on their way. If they didn't return by late afternoon the boss would send me out in a 14 foot aluminum fishing boat to go look for them. We didn't have radios or walkie-talkies. I'd just head out in a little boat with a length of rope to tow them in if they were broke down or if they were lost and couldn't find the marina I'd have them follow me back.
Now across from the marina parking lot was a large four story hotel. This place was real popular with the college kids as was our motel which was just a short walk away. The word gets out that the owner of the hotel is going to throw a birthday party for his daughter at the beach where I work, I think she was turning 18.
So one morning after I finish my morning garbage detail and working with the rental boats a crew of guys show up. They remove the pinball machines from the little chicken wire enclosure and start setting up the bands equipment. Now, this is a small space, maybe 10 by 25 ft. But it is open except for the chicken wire and it faces the beach.
As fate would have it, the group that was hired to play was staying in the motel next to ours. I was riding my bicycle around my folks place and saw this purple van next door with the words "The Kingsmen" painted on the side. They were popular at the time for their hit "Louie Louie". I had seen them on Shindig and I think one of my sisters had the 45 with their big hit. That song was everywhere.
The beach started to fill with kids mostly in their teens and early twenties. It was a sunny day and everybody was in their swim suits. Bikinis had just become popular but they weren't of the skimpy type like now, they looked more like grandma's underwear. The band crams into the chicken coop and starts playing and the college kids go wild! Everybody dancing in the sand, the frug, the watusi, the jerk, and all those dances that were popular at the time.
I was just standing there getting jostled about by all these older kids when the band finally breaks into its big hit, "Louie Louie." Now the crowd is really going crazy. Suddenly my boss pulls me from the crowd and says I have to go home. Some of the girls were starting to lose their tops and things were getting out of control. My boss called my dad and told him not to let me come back till the next morning. When I did get there the following day the place was trashed. Bathing suits, beer cans, and unexploded fireworks scattered everywhere. There were lots of people still sleeping on the beach. I guess it was quite a party as I filled up several big burlap sacks with beer cans and bathing suits and other assorted stuff.
So that was my first live Rock and Roll show. My dad had an "arrangement" with a big shot at Harrah's so we got to see lots of shows there for free in the South Shore Room. Those were performers like Donald O'Conner, Red Skelton, Robert Goulet, Sammy Davis Jr... well you get the idea. While those shows at Stateline were fun I'll always remember the Kingsmen playing "Louie Louie" in the pinball chicken coop at the Ski Run beach when I was 9 years old.
Me gotta go now,
Bob
The Kingsmen - Louie Louie - 45rpm
Now across from the marina parking lot was a large four story hotel. This place was real popular with the college kids as was our motel which was just a short walk away. The word gets out that the owner of the hotel is going to throw a birthday party for his daughter at the beach where I work, I think she was turning 18.
So one morning after I finish my morning garbage detail and working with the rental boats a crew of guys show up. They remove the pinball machines from the little chicken wire enclosure and start setting up the bands equipment. Now, this is a small space, maybe 10 by 25 ft. But it is open except for the chicken wire and it faces the beach.
As fate would have it, the group that was hired to play was staying in the motel next to ours. I was riding my bicycle around my folks place and saw this purple van next door with the words "The Kingsmen" painted on the side. They were popular at the time for their hit "Louie Louie". I had seen them on Shindig and I think one of my sisters had the 45 with their big hit. That song was everywhere.
The beach started to fill with kids mostly in their teens and early twenties. It was a sunny day and everybody was in their swim suits. Bikinis had just become popular but they weren't of the skimpy type like now, they looked more like grandma's underwear. The band crams into the chicken coop and starts playing and the college kids go wild! Everybody dancing in the sand, the frug, the watusi, the jerk, and all those dances that were popular at the time.
I was just standing there getting jostled about by all these older kids when the band finally breaks into its big hit, "Louie Louie." Now the crowd is really going crazy. Suddenly my boss pulls me from the crowd and says I have to go home. Some of the girls were starting to lose their tops and things were getting out of control. My boss called my dad and told him not to let me come back till the next morning. When I did get there the following day the place was trashed. Bathing suits, beer cans, and unexploded fireworks scattered everywhere. There were lots of people still sleeping on the beach. I guess it was quite a party as I filled up several big burlap sacks with beer cans and bathing suits and other assorted stuff.
So that was my first live Rock and Roll show. My dad had an "arrangement" with a big shot at Harrah's so we got to see lots of shows there for free in the South Shore Room. Those were performers like Donald O'Conner, Red Skelton, Robert Goulet, Sammy Davis Jr... well you get the idea. While those shows at Stateline were fun I'll always remember the Kingsmen playing "Louie Louie" in the pinball chicken coop at the Ski Run beach when I was 9 years old.
Me gotta go now,
Bob
The Kingsmen - Louie Louie - 45rpm
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