The Lost Boys of Happy Valley College: A Novel

By Dick Carlsen

As a Peter Pan fan, imagine yourself flying in your dreams, without Tink’s fairy dust. While flying, you “see” other kids your age also flying. The story employs that fantasy. Eight young boys meet in their Peter Pan-induced flying dreams in the 1950’s. Destiny brings them all together in 1964 at Happy Valley College, a Disneyesque Fantasyland and Adventureland campus in northern California, where they form a bond, a tight brotherhood through athletics and their share of mischief-making, so much like Peter’s “Lost Boys” on Neverland.
After one such incident they are brought before the Dean of Men, also a Peter Pan fan, who judges them of 19th century English public school “good character”, and symbolically labels the group his “Lost Boys”.
The Lost Boys graduate, deal with the ever-present military draft and Vietnam War, and go their eight separate ways to pursue careers and live their lives. Their remarkable careers would make the dean proud. One quasi-Lost Boy, Tim, suffers demonstrably from Peter Pan Syndrome.
In 2016, almost fifty years since the Lost Boys were all together at a San Francisco Forty Niners football game in 1969, they have a “seventy-year-olds” reunion at their campus, filled with adventures, mishaps, and renewed camaraderie.
The week-long reunion concludes, and heartfelt farewells dominate. Does Tim beat the Syndrome? Will there be another reunion with all eight of the Lost Boys?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665522403

Dick Carlsen

Dick Carlsen was born in and grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area. He attended Chico State College, graduating in 1968, and completed graduate studies at Indiana University. He is retired after a 44-year Navy civilian career, during which he traveled extensively to Navy activities worldwide. He lives in Virginia Beach, Virginia, with his wife Cathy and their rescue dog, Woody. They enjoy occasional trips to other beach areas and Lake Gaston in North Carolina. His published novels include, Happy Valley College, The Head of the Snake, Monkey Bottom (a Navy-centric story), The Lost Boys of Happy Valley College, and Revenge in Monkey Bottom. His retirement hobby and passion is writing, and he volunteers most mornings of the week walking dogs in the care of a local animal rescue shelter.

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2021 Dick Carlsen. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published by AuthorHouse  04/14/2021

ISBN: 978-1-6655-2235-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-2240-3 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

PROLOGUE

PART ONE

1949 – 1957

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

PART TWO

1964 -1966

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

1966 – 1969

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

PART THREE

1996

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

PART FOUR

THE REUNION/2016

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 58

CHAPTER 59

EPILOGUE

To the Lost Boys. You know who you are.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Don Carlsen, my twin brother, for sharing his notes on his Super Bowl officiating experience, as well as some ancestral notes.

Bob Jimenez, a dear friend and fellow classmate at Chico State College, for his review of some portions of the manuscript.

Pam Dunn, my sister for her very useful and thorough ancestry research.

Cathy, my wife, for her review of the manuscript and always appreciated comments.

CDR Ron Kurth, USN (Retired), a dear friend and fellow classmate at Chico State College, for his input on Navy flying craft.

Rear Admiral Mark Boensel, USN (Retired), for his input and feedback on the Navy fighter squadron community, aircraft, aircraft carrier, and home base information from the Gulf of Sidra timeframe.

CAPT Chuck Wyatt, USN (Retired), a former Navy F-14 fighter pilot and friend, for his extraordinary and valuable assistance and review.

Steve White, a former Navy colleague, for his continued assistance navigating the computer.

Peter Pan, written by J. M. Barrie, Millenium Publications.

Tom Brown’s Schooldays, written by Thomas Hughes, published 1857, Macmillan.

Action in the Gulf of Sidra; Wikipedia.

Day in the Life of a Fighter Pilot, Matthew Frucci, January 6, 2006.

Crossing Qaddafi’s Line of Death, A Moment in U.S. Diplomatic History, Association for Diplomatic Studies and Training.

Diane Shepard, a dear friend and classmate at Chico State College, for her help on Air Force fighter squadron home bases and Air Force installations in the 1960’s.

List of United States Air Force Fighter Squadrons, Wikipedia.

A Week in the Life of a NASCAR Crew Chief, Steve Addington, July 29, 2011.

The Grueling Life of a NASCAR Pit Crew Member, Michelle Martinelli, November 15, 2018.

A Day in the Life of Sun Devils Football Coach Herm Edwards, Arizona State University Athletics, January 16, 2018

A Day in the Life of a CFO, Investopedia.

Hook’s Tale, John Leonard Pielmeier, Simon and Schuster.

A Day in the Life of Wisconsin head coach Paul Chryst, ncaa.com/news/football/Wisconsin-football-day-of-life-paulchryst, November 13, 2015.

What is it really like to work at the NCIS?, Leah Binkovitz, Smithsonian Magazine, (NCIS), March 20, 2013.

Acknowledging with pride my family ancestral line to Baja California/Mexico.

Cover aerial campus photo taken by Jessica Bartlett.

Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow; Naught may endure but Mutability.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

PROLOGUE

Sunday, October 12, 1969. Benny, Dave whispered, will we ever be able to re-live those past four or five years in any way?

Benny sat silent for a moment, digesting all the ramifications of what Dave had just asked. Finally, with clarity, he stated, No. No, Dave, we won’t. In words that have been uttered in many different contexts, he simply said, You can’t go back.

Dave should have been stunned, heart-broken, but wasn’t. He also knew the nostalgic part of his DNA would want to, and that there were people suffering more severely from that symptom of the Peter Pan Syndrome that constantly looked back, could not move forward, and lived life that way. It was okay to occasionally be nostalgic, for it was good for the soul and pleasant, but not to let it cripple you from moving on and taking on more responsibility, focusing on the future. You’re right, you know. But it’s tough to put this idyllic part of our lives behind us and move on.

I know, buddy. We’ll just have to make some opportunities to try and re-live at least a few elements of our Happy Valley College days. We just don’t know when or how or in what form. Prophetic.

You know, Mrs. Darling left the window open out of love for her children and for their return from Peter Pan’s Neverland. This is sort of the reverse. Will there be an open window for me, or any of us, to return to our Neverland, Happy Valley College?

Oh, boy. You are enamored, aren’t you? he chuckled. Just think in terms of some future visits to the campus and you will not be disappointed.

Dave smiled. Yeah, but I’ll be okay. Really. We simply had an experience that cannot be replicated. Have to accept that.

Time to get serious about life and move on, bro.

True. Dave should have figured that out on his own. Hell, his life now consisted of wearing an Army uniform every day. Real life.

You can always make the drive up to HVC, but it won’t be the same.

True again. But you know that the magic of HV will remain a part of us forever. It will tug at our psyches like a child pulling on his dad’s coat sleeve.

No denying that. The question is, as he looked around the table, can we, will we move on from the past five years and do something with our lives? Maybe we can show up those Cal and Stanford guys.

Time would tell.

At that moment, Brad looked down the table, saying in a form of jest, Hey, you two, you’re looking quite serious down there. Join the party!

Hey, Brad, and you’re right. We were just sharing some personal reflections on all this, all of us, the camaraderie, you know, Benny responded. With a laugh, he added, Hey, man, we’re still here, ready to rock and roll.

Good! Brad replied with a big smile. He knew what they were talking about.

And with that, they were all tipping brews and animatedly recounting horror stories from Happy Valley days.

They were sitting in the Stadium Tavern not far from Candlestick Park in San Francisco, from where they had come after watching a fellow Happy Valley College football teammate and friend, Rick Sanchez, playing for the Baltimore Colts against the hometown San Francisco Forty Niners. The guys had opted out of going to a favorite rugby bar called Sal’s for a few beers. It was across the city at the oceanfront, so Dave had suggested the Stadium Tavern.

Everyone agreed, so off they went, driving up Gillman, then turning right onto 3rd Street, which turned out to be a good spot for a couple of brewskies because it was relatively close to both Highway 101 and Route 280 that could take one south toward San Jose, north toward the Golden Gate Bridge, and east toward the Bay Bridge and Oakland. Or, across the country or ultimately across the oceans, as we’ll discover.

The Stadium Tavern was not the pristine, fashionable Henry Afrika’s of the Union Street bar milieu in the city. It was in an older, rundown part of town with dirty, cracked sidewalks, mixed retail, services, and apartment buildings, and was rather a working-class watering hole. And it smelled and looked like one. The group was able to find a large table for the eight of them, and they made it simple for the waitress – Just keep bringing pitchers of Olympia, she was told. And that is what she did for this thirsty bunch that quickly got into chatting about life post Happy Valley. Crowded around the table were our boys Dave, his twin brother, Dan, Jack, Benny, Rob, Brad, Chip, and Brent. A fine group. A tight brotherhood. They all knew the conversations would center around their wonderful Neverland years at HVC, but first, they wanted to talk about the game they had just attended at Candlestick Park on a perfect football weather day with zip humidity, seventy-five comfortable degrees, blue skies dominating, and a slight breeze that was unusual for the stadium known for its windy conditions.

Can you guys believe that monster punt by Rick? exclaimed an excited Brad.

Incredible, beamed Brent.

Had some great hang time, too, which helped his team down the ball inside the Niners five-yard line, added Rob.

The Niners were going to need a miracle to move the ball ninety-five yards with less than a minute on the clock, said Dan.

And they didn’t get it. Bet Rick’s a happy guy, said Dave. And to beat a fellow original NFL team. They’ve both been around a long time. We all watched and rooted for them in the fifties.

Too bad we couldn’t see him off after the game, but Rick and his teammates would have been hustling to shower and to get on the bus to the airport down Highway 101, offered Brad.

Okay, enough about the game, Chip yelled.

Hey, Dan exclaimed excitedly, taking the cue, do you guys remember during our sophomore year Western Week when old lady Spencer, the wicked Ramsey Hall dorm mother everyone hated was shoved into the swimming pool at the dorm? What a hoot!

Raucous laughter from everyone, for they were all present at the pool to witness the occasion.

Damn right, Dan. That hilarious event helped me deal somewhat with that disastrous auto accident I had the previous weekend near the dorms. Boy, did that suck, Benny lamented.

Yeah, that truly was a disaster week, for you and old lady Spencer, injected Jack.

Ha! You’re right, Jack, Benny replied.

Hey, Jack interjected, I just realized Tim isn’t here. Does anyone know why?

Well, I told him about it, Dan responded, adding, and he said he would come down for the game. But you know Tim, Mr. Unreliable.

So true, Benny stated.

And how about those great Raiders keggers at Raider Henry’s and Rio Chico? Until we finally had our own Western Week keggers at good ‘ol Iris Street, Dave exclaimed.

Ah, those were the days, guys, Brent added.

And those super study breaks and Saturdays at Nelson’s Bar, basking in the sun and swimming in those cool waters, and the times we spent at Trout Hole doing the same thing, said Brad.

I miss those days already, said a somewhat somber, saddened Chip.

And that is how the chatter went for a couple of hours as the guys shared their individual and collective memories of what was arguably the happiest and best parts of their young lives. It would come to pass that nothing equaled the experiences and nostalgia of Happy Valley College.

Benny and Dave were at one end of the table, sitting next to one another, so it was easy to occasionally have their own private conversation. Benny was a reflective guy, always able to capture the moment and to fully express what was on their minds, saying it best. He could drill down on memories like no other.

We did good, didn’t we? he asked, but it was more a statement than a question, looking at Dave with his brown skin, black hair, and penetrating Hispanic brown eyes, the depth of the conversation making it seem like he and Dave were the brothers vice Dan and Dave, who had their father’s fair Norwegian complexion.

Dave knew what he was talking about. Yeah, we did, good buddy.

No regrets.

None. We didn’t get the scholarship offers, let alone acceptances, from Cal or Stanford, but we sure as hell hit it out of the park in our own ways at Happy Valley.

Boy, that’s the truth. We were just average guys with decent grades coming out of high school. We were good students, but not the top end of honor society. I wouldn’t change anything during our Neverland years.

Dave chuckled at the Neverland reference. Two peas from the same pod, Benny and him, and add in the other guys. It was destiny, Benny. And nor would I change anything. Well, maybe one thing. We certainly found our Neverland, figuratively the place of mermaids in a lagoon, and pirates and adventures. But no surprise there. I truly believe we were destined to meet at Happy Valley.

He laughed, but a knowing, serious laugh. Yep. Very apt, the Neverland thing. He shifted gears. What would you change?

Leaving Happy Valley after four years. I sure could have used and enjoyed another year with you guys and the accoutrements wrapped up in the college environs. But I was intent on being closer to Debbie. Everything was fine, totally lucked out getting into the Army reserve unit, avoiding the rice paddies of Vietnam. Smooth sailing in the Bay Area so we could be together, then boom, she calls things off.

I know. That had to suck.

Yeah. But you know, upon reflection, it was just like the bumps in the clouds that the Darling children experienced when flying to Neverland with Peter Pan, and he was sometimes flying off for some other adventure, with something or someone else getting his attention, and not there to help the children. In hindsight, Dave mused, figuratively maybe that was Debbie. But you know, Bob, I never did know why she broke things off. It could have been as simple and normal as ‘cold feet’, realizing she was too young to marry. Other priorities. Understandable.

Nice analogy, good buddy. You know the Peter Pan story quite well, don’t you?

I do. Read the original J.M. Barrie long version. So much symbolism. Most people do not know how the Neverland Lost Boys came to be or how they ended up. And most do not know that Captain Hook, it was said, did have another name, James Cook, a descendent of the famous Captain Cook, that he was educated in the English public school system, that he attended none other than the famous school, Eton, and at times was a Gentleman and did try to employ ‘Good Form’ as he was taught in school.

Very nice.

You were always there for me, Benny, showing Good Form when I had some of those bumps or bad experiences.

Yeah, Dave, and you were there for me when you and a couple of the other guys, pausing to look up the table, intervened when I had that accident near the dorms. Bad shit.

Dave thought he saw Benny’s eyes moisten. Like Dave, he was a sentimentalist. He looked away, this time nodding his head up the table at the other guys laughing and scratching, enjoying the moment and the beverages, and extolling in the story telling. That would never change. Nostalgia had its grip on them, their common trait. It was in their DNA, from childhoods. Their Happy Valley experiences together offered up a bucket load of nostalgic reflections, which is probably why the other thing they had in common was their reluctance to leave Happy Valley. It was their Shangri La, their comfort zone, their happy place, and had become their home for many years. They were just not ready for the work world, to be gainfully employed citizens, to have to act like and be grown-ups. Sound familiar, like Peter Pan not wanting to grow up, get a job, and be an adult?

Whether or not the guys were prepared emotionally for the work world was one thing, and almost minor. At the same time, there was an event going on across the ocean that was also pulling at them, very subtly at first, called the Vietnam War. Like Captain Hook wanting to end Peter Pan and the Lost Boys’ childhood-like adventures and joys in Neverland, Uncle Sam wanted to drag our boys’ asses into the military. Captain Hook’s pirates were analogous to Uncle Sam’s Selective Service Offices eager to snag them in the military draft and into the Army, certainly an end to a carefree existence.

Love ya’, buddy, Dave said, although they all knew they did not have to say it because they all felt it toward one another.

Love ya’ back, Dave, he solemnly replied.

So, who were these fun-loving guys, this band of brothers if you will, who act like they are brothers? They were not just a bunch of college buddies meeting to watch a football game. To characterize them as such would diminish and undermine the very thread of this story. No, this was indeed a special group and we are going to treat them accordingly. But first, what do we call them in the aggregate? Certainly not the group of eight, for that sounds too much like global economic engines, or a group of major accounting firms, and certainly not always using each birth name, for how tedious would that be? I do not think the reader would be delirious hearing eight names time after time. We need something simple, yet functional and harmonious with the story.

For this story, we are going to borrow from the well-known fantasy story, Peter Pan, and call our guys The Lost Boys. But we need to give credit where it is due, to properly ascribe the Lost Boys term or label to a college administrator that saw some promise in the boys after a tense meeting with them borne of their mischief-making. Frankly, they may not initially have been amenable to nor in total agreement with this label and questioned it, for good reason, e.g., the unknown implications, but we will all know eventually why this is the most appropriate handle to use when discussing these young men who sometimes acted like young boys. Well, there you go. We have given something away.

But who really are the Lost Boys? As we previously stated, they all had attended sleepy, picturesque, idyllic Happy Valley College in northern California in the mid-1960’s and shared much in common. The college was a mix of the Disneyesque Adventure Land and Fantasy Land, with its Sutter Creek in a wooded area meandering through the campus, and a plethora of off-campus water recreational venues perfect for having fun and for adventure seekers. A playground of sorts. Their Neverland. Those venues were good for study breaks, too. And a few beers were consumed during some of those study breaks.

So, how did our modern-day Lost Boys meet in the late Summer of 1964? How and why Happy Valley College? Why, they met in their dreams when they were children. They all dreamed of Neverland, a place frequently instilled in them from a movie called Peter Pan, a shortened book version, and even a serialized story in the Sunday newspaper that mothers read to their ever-attentive young children. They dreamed of Peter Pan and oh, so wonderfully exciting, flying. They most assuredly met when they crossed air paths while flying, not realizing the on-going magic at the time, for of course, who really has instant recall of or remembers in detail their dreams? The next morning, poof!, gone, evaporated from memory. But they met. After all, when you are flying and having a grand time in your dreams the distance between Herlong and Danville, or Happy Valley and Lafayette, is insignificant. No names were exchanged, for they were intent on flying, believing. But this was different. They remembered. Like Pan, they were also busy being carefree, thoughtless children. Most of the time, fathers were not around. It seemed they were out of the house much of the time, working hard to take care of the family. That is just the way things were for many families in those early post-World War Two days.

Thus, when the boys, and they truly were still boys, recent fresh-faced high-school graduates in their late teens that thought they knew everything and were bullet-proof, arrived at lovely HVC they already knew one another. The next step was a natural one as they spent time in the dormitories, on the playing fields, at Raiders keggers, and hanging out in the Quad between classes chatting it up with the girls as they walked by on their way to classes or off campus. The Quad was more special when the upperclassmen Sanchez twins and some of the older Raiders were present on those green benches and holding court. It was marvelous. The boys bonded. They developed a brotherly love and camaraderie.

They admittedly had more in common than attending HVC and ultimately sharing a reluctance to leave school. Not unlike some of the major characters in the Thomas Hughes novel, Tom Brown’s Schooldays, set at the famous Rugby School of early 19th century English public schools, our Lost Boys were from good homes and were honorable. Tom Brown was the son of a Squire who, along with Tom’s mother, gave him a wide berth on who he played with. This growing up experience helped Tom adjust quickly to Rugby School, where he made friends quickly and quite excelled on the playing field. Our Lost Boys were no different. They made friends quickly and enjoyed athletics.

But we stray, fully recognizing we need a good, solid understanding of our Lost Boys, who had become the very closest of friends, like brothers, supporting one another in good times and bad, captured in the carefree life of HVC, never forgetting there was a Dean watching them closely. He did not like the Raiders.

Oh, I dare say we should acknowledge that Tim, Timmie to his dear, over-indulgent mother and father and Mr. Tim to his nanny, who was conspicuously absent from the football game and the Stadium Tavern, was a quasi-member of the Lost Boys.

Let us stop and ponder on the Lost Boys at the game and the bar, for it is important to know that when they left the Stadium Tavern that day, and after they shared contact information among themselves and promised to remain in touch (but you know how that can go), going their eight separate ways as they had done so many times before for short durations, the Lost Boys would not all be together again to share their love and friendship and drink from the nostalgic kool-aid until almost fifty years later. As the expression goes, life got in the way. Just how this mischief-making bunch did in their lives may surprise you.

Benny and Dave exchanged their goodbyes and shook hands, followed by a guy hug, after exiting the Stadium Tavern. Benny left Dave with the following, Remember what I told you, Dave. Dave smiled in acknowledgement and walked to his car.

PART ONE

1949 – 1957

CHAPTER 1

Ooh, weee, I’m swimming, screamed an excited three-year-old Dave.

Ooh, me, too, said another three-year-old, Bonnie.

Dave’s twin brother, Dan, made it a threesome in the tiny wading pool located in Bonnie’s backyard.

All three of them were having a grand time in the pool, splashing one another, yelling, screaming mostly non-sensical stuff. It was a hot day in Walnut Creek, California, in the late Summer of 1949. Bonnie’s mother had filled the pool and talked to Dave and Dan’s mom to invite the little tikes over to cool off, swimsuits not mandatory.

For the parents, life was getting better. The second World War had ended a few years earlier, and men and women were either returning to college or re-entering the work world. The economy was humming along, and better times sans shortages on necessities were busting out. Dave’s dad had had a difficult time finding diapers for the twins, as such necessities were hard to come by. Life was better. The children’s fathers and many mothers had served in the war effort and were working hard to make a better life for themselves and their families.

The post-war 1950’s beckoned. Let’s just go ahead and get this right upfront – growing up in the 50’s was easy, safe and fun, agreeably a generalization, and depending on one’s circumstances. It was perfect, it really was. Life was uncomplicated, simple. There was a routine. Children did not need much other than their own form of Peter Pan make-believe adventures and Tink’s fairy dust for dream-enabled flying. Dave and Dan’s dad drove them here and there in a 1949 Studebaker car, followed by a humongous 1952 Mercury. They had telephones, although in the early years there was something called party lines, which meant you couldn’t always make a call exactly when you wanted to. You had to wait for the other party sharing that same line to get off their call. The phones were these black, clunky looking five-pound things normally sitting on a kitchen counter that had a receiver or handset that you picked up in one hand, then with your other hand you used your first finger to move this rotary dial thing that had letters and numbers in each hole, so you knew what letter and number your finger was dialing. Dave didn’t use it much unless his Grandma Murillo was calling, and they had to get on the phone to talk to her, or in those rare occasions when they didn’t send a timely thank you card to her and their mom made them call her to apologize. There were two of them, Dave and his twin brother, Dan, Pedersen.

The Pedersen’s had a car, a telephone, a television for a black and white picture on three channels, and they had decent furniture on which to sit to watch TV after their dad routinely got behind the TV to mess with some controls or dials to improve the picture or bring it into better focus and stop all those crazy lines going up and down or side to side, which required a different dial or gizmo. Sometimes it was a lost cause, and their dad would swear and turn off the TV, but that didn’t happen too, too often. And sometimes they accompanied their dad to an electronics store that had a machine to test TV tubes so