No Strings Attached: My Life Growing up with the Birth of Rock N Roll

By Jimmy Nowoc

No Strings Attached: My Life Growing up with the Birth of Rock and Roll offers a nostalgic look at life growing up in the fifties and sixties. The narrative provides a bird's-eye view as seen through the eyes of a young devotee of music as it is changing from ballroom to bandstand and from pop to rock.

Learn what song the FBI deemed "most dangerous record ever played."

Consider who may have been the inspiration for the movie classic The Sandlot.

Tune in to the Rock Anthem-that became the only song embraced by both pro-war and anti-war supporters-embraced by groups who either supported or condemned the Vietnam war.

Find out what teen idol hit ranked number one as it ushered out the '50s and welcomed in the '60s.

Which rock star refused to sign an autograph for a veteran on Veteran's Day?

Experience with the author what it was like to first hear the earliest hits of our greatest rock legends and his impressions of the same encountering them five and six decades later.

Relive appearances by Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, and twenty-nine-year-old Elton John as they thrill sold-out audiences, performing while in their prime.

Travel to Fort Knox, Kentucky; Fort Gordon, Georgia; and Vietnam as the author recalls the music that our veterans were listening to when they served our nation as they participated in a very unpopular war. Learn how rock affected their service. Feel the respect and admiration our GIs extended to Bob Hope for his dedication to our servicemen serving in harm's way by someone who attended his Christmas Day performance in 1966.

Dispensing firsthand stories told to him by many of the principals present in 1959, the author shares his expertise, telling the story that inspired Don McLean's epic lyrical poem "American Pie."

The story will allow you to secure a look from a front-row position at the world's most prestigious sixties concert held at one of the most honored venues, the Surf Ballroom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662448331

Book preview

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No Strings Attached

My Life Growing up with the Birth of Rock N Roll

Jimmy Nowoc

Copyright © 2022 Jimmy Nowoc

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-6624-4832-4 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-4833-1 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Foreword

Prologue

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

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

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Epilogue

Appendix 1

Appendix 2

About the Author

Foreword

What can you say about the heroes of Rock 'N Roll that hasn't already been said by Jim Nowoc? I am sure the only Rattle Jim knew as a baby was the one in the song Shake, Rattle and Roll by Bill Haley & his Comets. Jim has been a Rock 'N Roll warrior almost simultaneously with the very history of the music itself. His passion for the music of the 50s and 60s began as he lived it in real time, and remains as the crux of his very soul.

And a true warrior he is. A Viet Nam War Veteran, Jim was part of the famed Platoon made famous by Oliver Stone. The war veteran baseball cap he proudly wears daily honors the band of brothers with whom he fought to defend the U.S. flag in Southeast Asia.

I not only book the acts at my venues, I also am at almost every show and interact with my beloved customers. I have found that the shows we put on are an escape from the challenges of life for some, and a complete way of life for others. Jim is the epitome of the latter.

I first met Jim at one of my Oldies shows. It could have been Herman's Hermits' Peter Noone, Tommy James & The Shondells, The Lettermen, Neil Sedaka, Paul Anka or Wayne Newton. Ya know, it could have been any one of hundreds of Rock and Roll hero shows we have had, and that Jim has attended.

Like so many other fans do before every show, Jim approached me and introduced himself as a Rock and Roll superfan. I had seen him before at my shows many times, and I always waved at him mainly because of the Viet Nam War Veteran baseball cap he so proudly dons, no matter what the outfit is for the day.

He asked if he could get his guitar signed. He showed me this 6-string acoustic that was laden with signatures. I began to read it like a Rock and Roll-road map of the stars. From his first signature, Rock and Roll Pioneer Charlie Gracie to over thirty Rock Hall of Famers including Dion, Leon Russell and The Beach Boys, his mission was to secure the autographs of as many legends as he could. It was his way of creating a sacred temple of signatures of those who he not only idolized, but who also molded the history of pop music from the 1950s and 1960s.

This book takes you on a journey, a Rock Around The Clock—worthy read. It is a drive down Lake Shore Drive with WJIM loudly blasting from a convertible 1957 Chevy. Take the ride, sing the songs and re-live HIS memories. It will bring you back to a care-free time when gasoline was twenty-five cents a gallon, and concerts were three dollars a ticket. Oh wait, never mind about that $3 ticket thing.

—Ron Onesti, President & CEO,

The Arcada and Des Plaines Theatres

Prologue

Was Lawdy Miss Clawdy recorded in 1952 by Lloyd Price really Rock and Roll's first hit recording? Not likely, but its close. Rocket 88 released by Jackie Brenston and his Delta Cats, a song written by Ike Turner in 1951, gets that nod. Alan Freed named it. John Lennon identified Chuck Berry as its father. Elvis Presley reigned as its king, and Bill Haley & His Comets was its first band. Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, Little Richard, Gene Vincent and His Blue Caps, and Antoine Fats Domino commercialized it. They were all there at its inception. As a matter of fact, so was I.

No Strings Attached: My Life Growing up with the Birth of Rock & Roll is an autobiographical narrative. The book provides a nostalgic look of life growing up in the fifties and sixties for a shy and introverted young man and how his relationship with the music of the day helped him develop into a self-confident, extroverted storyteller. This chronicle includes an account of music written and performed during the time I was fighting in Vietnam and its affect on me and the Nation I was serving.

Through a stroke of good fortune, I was able to purchase a remarkable Guitar. The Guitar itself is unique. It's never been tuned or strummed. It's never been played. It no longer has strings. It's been dropped, bounced, and bumped. It's been shoved into cramped overhead storage compartments on airplanes. It's been stowed away on cruise ships. It's been hidden in closets. It's been unceremoniously shoved under beds. It's been lost or misplaced a number of times.

The Guitar does not possess a clever name like Willie's Trigger, B. B.'s Lucille, or Clapton's Blackie. It's flawed. On its bottom exists a tiny crack. Like a musical Rorschach test, the mini tear appears to be underlining the signature of Herman Santiago, Hall of Fame member of the Legendary Teenagers who, with bandmate Jimmy Merchant, wrote Why Do Fools Fall in Love?

It fell into my possession at the conclusion of the British Luncheon hosted by Margaret Majerczyk in 2010. On the day of its purchase, I realized I was being granted a golden opportunity to create something extra special. I had recently put together an incredible collection of oldies music and now saw the Guitars acquisition as an opportunity to provide suitable recognition for the dawning of the music of my life. I began acquiring signatures. In addition, I started developing historical biographies on each of the signatures.

My goal was to link the first time I was introduced to their music and their careers with impressions I formulated while meeting them face-to-face some five or six decades later.

The Guitar represents different things to different people. Be it fan or rock artist, a glance at a name on it generates a comment or brings back some personal memory.

Though a note has never resonated from its sound hole, its loving relationship with music legends, heroes, and rock-and-roll idols is indisputable. Dozens upon dozens of rock and pop stars have gently picked it up respectfully, admiring the signatures of cohorts and peers. Those same dozens have added their names so all who have signed exist indelibly linked together.

It now stands crafted as homage to the memory of Buddy Holly and the dawn of Rock and Roll. Nearly one hundred thirty artists have signed the Guitar. Each has had their story told previously one way or another. I will continue to expand on their legend and lore.

Signatures began being acquired in 2010. But the real story and the relationship of Boomer and Guitar began in a Chicago three-flat sixty years earlier.

The nexus of the story connects 129 pioneers of Rock & Roll who influenced my life through their music and through exploring what became of them and me more than six decades later!

Our story will be told to the best of my recollections and in great detail. It's an account replete with heroes, and villains, kooks, and characters. If you have ever wondered what it was like back in the day, read on.

Introduction

The Brits revered Buddy Holly. Therefore, the annual British Buddy Holly luncheon had become an integral part of the Winter Dance Party celebration. The event held in the ballroom of the Clear Lake, Iowa's Best Western Holiday Lodge was organized by Margaret and John Majerczyk. Margaret was originally from Liverpool, England. They met and were married while John was stationed in England, serving with the US Air Force. After his discharge, they returned to his home in Chicago. When their daughter started suffering from respiratory and immune-system illnesses, their doctor recommended a change of climate. Familiar with the Clear Lake / Mason City, Iowa area, in 1974, the two uprooted and relocated their family to the region.

The annual celebration honoring the legacies of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J. P. Richardson, a.k.a. the Big Bopper, began in 1979. The tribute was the brainchild of Darryl Hensley a.k.a. the Mad Hatter, a Clear Lake radio-station personality. The inaugural concert was planned for just one evening and was referred to as The Tribute to Buddy Holly Concert. The headliners included Del Shannon and the Drifters. Wolfman Jack performed the emcee duties. The venue chosen for the memorial was the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake. The Surf was the site of the three legendary artists' final performances on February 2, 1959.

Despite its modest beginning, the tribute steadily grew, first to a two-night event with the title shortened to The Buddy Holly Tribute. Eventually it expanded to a three-day concert series renamed 50s in February. The Buddy Holly reference was removed over protestations from his widow, Maria Elena, citing ownership of naming rights, image, trademarks, and other intellectual properties. Finally, in 2004, organizers decided to change the name yet again. They also added a fourth evening of entertainment to the festival now known as the Winter Dance Party. Since its challenging inception, the WDP has become the destination for thousands and thousands of rock-and-roll fans from across the world. And in addition, hundreds of the finest and most famous fifties and sixties artists have consistently braved the wintry Iowa weather to perform in front of the nightly sold-out audiences. The synergy between the artists and their fans demonstrates why the Winter Dance Party is arguably the country's premier fifties/sixties concert event.

Similarly, the British Buddy Holly Luncheon had an inauspicious start. As a teenager in Liverpool, Margaret, then Gamble, was captivated by rock-and-roll and rockabilly music. A frequent visitor to the Cavern Club, she witnessed firsthand the development of the Beatles beginning with Lennon and McCartney's appearances with the Quarrymen. She and husband, John, fully embraced and supported the annual Iowa event. During the 1988 concert, John and Margaret graciously opened their home to four strangers who had traveled all the way from the UK. By 1989, and through word of mouth, the four became a dozen and required the get-together be celebrated at a local restaurant. Prior to the 1991 event, over fifty indicated their intentions of crossing the pond. Fifty then blossomed into ninety. Besides assisting with hotel-room reservations and ticket requests, Margaret arranged for two sightseeing bus tours. The group was treated to a forty-mile trip to Albert Lea, Minnesota—the birthplace of Rock and Roll Hall of Famer Eddie Cochran known for his hits C'mon Everybody, Somethin' Else, and Summertime Blues. A close friend of both Buddy Holly and Ritchie Valens, Eddie died tragically in the village of Chippenham, England, at age twenty-one when the taxi he was riding in smashed into a light post, traveling at sixty miles an hour. Future Rock and Roll Hall of Famer Gene Vincent, singer of Be-Bop-A-Lula and Lotta Lovin,' was also a passenger in the private car. Badly injured, Gene was left with a permanent limp as a result of the crash.

Rapidly the luncheon grew into a sold-out RSVP gala that has welcomed visitors from a dozen countries and over twenty different states. The luncheon / jam fest has featured some of Britain's finest musicians, including Liverpool's own Tony Marsh, Dave Slater, Dave Parsons, and Rockin' Baldy Holly, showcasing their talents while participating in a series of impromptu mini concerts. Annual contributors to the festivities have included Buddy Guy; protégé Gene Kilty performing with Good Clean Fun; Rockabilly Hall of Fame member Alan Clark and his band, the Classics; Iowa Rock and Roll Hall of Fame member Dennis Farland; and BBHS Hall of Fame inductee Alfred S. Waylon Neuman. Over the years, celebrities the likes of Charlie Gracie; Freddy Cannon; the Zmed Brothers; Tommy Allsup and his son, Austin; Jay & the Americans with bass player, Billy Corston; Bobby Vee; and others have crashed the event to the surprise and delight of the overflow audiences. Bobby Vee, in recognition of her English roots, began referring to Margaret as Princess Margaret.

In 1999, under the direction of Dennis Farland, the British Buddy Holly Society influenced the creation of Buddy's Buddies, a charitable foundation dedicated to preserving the memories of the four who had perished in the 1959 plane crash. Forming a Music Scholarship Committee, Dennis was joined initially by British construction mogul Paul King and his wife, Dot. They were soon teamed with Clear Lake residents John Clemens and his wife, Shirley, and Beverly Records owner Jack Dreznes. Rounding out the group were Jerry and Barbara Dwyer, the owners of the ill-fated airplane.

The charitable foundation provided college scholarships to graduating high-school music majors. The grants were evenly distributed annually to a student attending class in Lubbock, Texas (Buddy's hometown); Beaumont, Texas, in honor of the Bopper; Storm Lake HS in Iowa, in memory of the pilot Roger Peterson; and also Garner High in Clear Lake, in recognition of Tommy Allsup. The fifth award was randomly selected and distributed by Connie Valens to a California High School graduate in memory of her brother, Ritchie.

Scholarship funds were received via individual donations from a variety of generous donors. Gate receipts collected at a number of charitable concerts proved a second source of income. Thirdly sales of sweatshirts, T-shirts, and British Buddy Holly Society scarves sold at the luncheon and at the Surf generated more revenue. Monies resulting from the auctions of memorabilia and other items provided a welcome stipend important to the fundraising effort.

I met John Majerczyk while attending my first British luncheon in 2010. We bonded immediately. Our politics, our outlook on life, our similar taste in music, and our love for our military and those who defend and protect us dominated our conversation. Lost in our tête-à-tête, we were unaware of the time passing. We suddenly noticed the ballroom was beginning to clear. As the diners filed past our table, I heard John remark, Crap, Margaret's going to kill me! Before I had the opportunity to ask him why, he had provided me the answer. I was supposed to raffle off the Guitar. Getting up abruptly, he beckoned me to follow. Arriving at the check-in table located in front of the hall entrance, I watched as he reached under and dragged out a cardboard guitar case. Placing it on the table and opening it in front of me revealed the source of his angst. At first glance, I marveled at the sight of what appeared to be a Dreadnought acoustic guitar. Its front was stunning. The Sunburst coloring on its body cascaded from its center, changing shades until it had assumed a deep-mahogany border. The sound hole was decorated with a four-inch pewter ring displaying BUDDY HOLLY on one side and CLEAR LAKE, IA on the other in bold black lettering.

Turning the Guitar to reveal its backside, John informed me he had commissioned artist Bob Turner to finish the detailing. Using its lush mahogany rear as his canvas, Bob crafted an eight-inch-by-eight-inch portrait of Buddy, complete with his trademark eyeglasses and Ivy League tie. Adjacent to the likeness, the gifted designer had replicated the rock star's signature. It was a stone-cold knockout. I recognized the piece to be a one-of-a-kind collectible.

I found myself staring at it much like Homer Simpson surveying a doughnut. Observing me wiping a bit of drool from the corner of my mouth, John asked, Care to buy it? Silently responding to his rhetorical question, I reached for my wallet. I took out the folded hundred dollar bill I had hidden behind my Visa credit card. It was planned to be used only in case of an emergency. If this transaction saved John from being murdered by Margaret, it certainly satisfied the criteria. Silently I offered up the one-hundred-dollar bill. Just as silently, he handed the Guitar to me. Fondling my new purchase, I was confident that I was now in possession of a pretty neat souvenir.

Jim McCool and Sevan Garabedian were two young documentarians. McCool lived in Madison, Wisconsin. Sevan hailed from Montreal, Québec. They were in the process of chronicling the history of the 1959 Winter Dance Party tour. In one form or another, their target audience was familiar with Buddy, Ritchie, and the Big Bopper. The other principals—Dion and the Belmonts, Tommy Allsup, Carl Bunch, and Waylon Jennings—all had experienced long, successful careers. Very little or nothing at all was known about Frankie Sardo. Buddy found himself in the position of needing one more artist to complete his WDP lineup. So on the heels of his 1958 regional hit Fake Out and his friendships with Dion and Waylon, Sardo found himself invited to join the ensemble. After signing a short-term performance contract, he was soon traveling on a drafty school bus heading to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. On January 23 at George Devine's Million Dollar Ballroom, he settled in as the show's opening act. Three weeks after the tragedy and after fulfilling his contract, he decided to pursue other endeavors.

Frankie Sardo remained a mystery for over fifty years. The two young filmmakers tracked him to his residence in Toronto, Ontario. They hoped that they could convince him to return with them to the Surf. He initially declined their request. Doggedly persistent, they contacted the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio. Collaborating with the Hall and with the support of Frankie's wife, Hedda Britt, the enigma agreed to return and share his memories of the tour.

Dubbed the Fanfare for Frankie, Shelby Morrison of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was chosen to conduct the interview. Upon its completion, the three quarters of an hour session became a part of the Hall's historical archives. At its conclusion, the interviewee joined a star-studded group of fifties/sixties artists in the hotel conference room for a meet and greet.

Using a lottery system allowed the event's attendees to grab some face time, capture an autograph or two, and mug for photos with a dozen of their favorites. The process allowed all of it to be handled in an orderly manner. Fortuitously our table number was the first drawn, providing us immediate access. Ever the opportunist, I entered the room carrying my newly acquired Guitar. Cafeteria tables had been set up in the room in a horseshoe shape. Charlie Gracie granted my request and became the first artist to ever sign the Guitar. His wife, Joan, looked on smilingly, indicating her approval. In order, the rest of the group included Freddy Boom Boom Cannon, guest of honor Frankie Sardo, Stephen Caldwell (founder of the Orlons), original Crickets Jerry Allison and Joe B. Mauldin, and Sonny Curtis (a teenage friend, band member, and early Cricket with Buddy back in Lubbock, Texas), Bill Medley of the Righteous Brothers, Fabian; and Waylon Jennings's brother Tommy were also present. Lesley Gore arrived later after being delayed doing battle with the Iowa winter weather. Shaking the snow from her boots, she hastily joined the others.

Each signed in turn, taking time to answer a question or engage in some friendly banter. Very accommodating, all posed patiently for pictures. I felt like I was experiencing a rock-and-roll lovefest. Pausing in front of Joe B., Sonny, and J. I., I was certain I felt the Guitar quiver. Watching the three Buddy Holly colleagues add their signatures beneath Buddy's, I thought, Wow this is unbelievable! At that very same time, in a sentient moment, I was sure I heard the Guitar mimic nightclub owner Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) speaking to Captain Louis Renault (Claude Rains) in the film classic Casablanca. Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Charlie Gracie becoming first artist to sign the Guitar

Chapter 1

Leave the Driving to Us

For the first ten years of my life, we lived in the Humboldt Park area of North Chicago. My dad and mom owned an aging three-flat at 1712 North Rockwell Street. We lived on the top floor; tenants occupied the first and second floors of the building. We enjoyed a small postage-stamp-sized backyard. On the back of the property sat a small bungalow where Dad's Polish parents resided. They spoke very little English. They introduced me to my first tastes of coffee—heavy milk, heavy sugar. Grandma prepared my after-school snacks. My personal favorite was sugar bread. Sugar bread consisted of a slice of white bread, smeared with butter, and sprinkled with sugar.

A precocious child, I read sheet music and played the accordion at five years old. Also, at five, my mother was allowed to enroll me into the first grade at Bethel Lutheran Church and School. I often found myself as much as two years younger than my classmates. Girls were regularly heads taller than me. Her decision, though well-meaning, would render me socially challenged throughout my entire grammar-school and high-school experiences. Scholastically I was well within my element. However, attending as the smallest child, boy or girl, during eight years of grammar school and the smallest boy graduating from a large Suburban High school proved devastating. At Bethel, I was introduced to the four Rs of a Lutheran education—Readin', Ritein', ‘Rithmetic and Religion. All the students were taught in rooms shared by two grade levels. Miss Kohn was responsible for educating all first- and second-grade students. At times, as many as forty-five kids might be supervised by her at any one time! Remarkably, walking into her room, you could hear a pin drop. Third and fourth graders were tutored by Mr. Helmkamp in the same manner. A lone teacher was assigned to the fifth and sixth graders, and another single instructor was responsible for simultaneously schooling the seventh- and eighth-grade classes.

From toddler to teen, a number of extended family resided with us. At various times, Mom's father, Axel Bernard Bernie Johnson; her brother Ronnie; or my dad's brother Fred lived with our family. My folks unintentionally developed a revolving-door policy. Visits were intended to be kept brief but often extended as long as a few months. Gramps and Unc had one thing in common. They were both heavy drinkers. In addition, they were often mean drunks.

My uncle Ronnie was five years older than me. He treated me more like little brother than nephew. He was a terrific athlete playing baseball, basketball, and football in high school. I was a grateful recipient of his hand-me-down athletic gear. At one time or another, I possessed his old football helmet, shoulder pads, and football pants complete with their thigh padding, which I mistook for kneepads and could never figure out how to keep them in place to protect my knees. I gleefully accepted baseball gloves that he had outgrown and old ratty stirrup socks. Not understanding the concept of stirrup, I thought the proper way of wearing them was to wedge them between my toes then struggle and pull them over my calves. It would be years before I would be able to comfortably swing any of his discarded 33 & 34 inch Louisville Slugger baseball bats. Always cracked, I would lovingly tape them up and attempt to heft those best I could. I was proudest of the baseball cleats he had outgrown and would give to me. Anxious to show them off even though they were at least two shoe sizes too big, I stuffed newspaper into the toe of each shoe and proceeded to join a group of the neighborhood guys playing 16 inch softball in the alley. I convinced them that the baseball spikes would permit me to dig into the concrete playing surface, allowing me to run faster. What a little knucklehead! Lastly, I treasured his old Knights of Columbus basketball jersey with the name Hardrock on its back. I never waited to grow into any of the apparel. Wearing it made me feel like one of the big guys.

Ronnie was a Cub fan, uncle Fred was a White Sox fan. All Cubs and Sox games were televised locally on WGN, Channel 9. At that time Jack Brickhouse and Harry Creighton were the broadcasters for both teams. Having no lights at Wrigley Field a Cub game often was ended before Ronnie came home from school. Fred would often attempt to agitate the young Cub fan. Since Fred worked a late shift he would watch all of the day baseball games. When it came to Ron's love for the Cubs, Fred playfully enjoyed busting the kid's balls. A perfect example was when Ronnie rushed home from school. Fred was seated in front of TV, reading the Chicago Sun-Times. He dropped the paper to chest level and said, Hey, Ron, Cubs won! He paused. Ron reacted gleefully. Fred added, Dodgers 6! Fred returned to reading the paper; the kid's spirit was crushed. Mission accomplished.

Mom's relationship with Bernie and Fred frequently proved toxic. Loud, violent arguments would periodically occur between them. Bordering at times on out of control, the noisy confrontations would raise the ire of the tenants under us. The sound of a broom handle from the apartment below would resonate and amplify on our hardwood flooring. If the Woody Woodpecker-like tapping of the broom handle failed, threats of a call to the police generally were sufficient to quell or at least tone down the arguing.

Ignoring his better judgment and risking Mom's ire, Dad would occasionally succumb to temptation and walk the half block to Tvarohs Tavern. Accompanied by Gramps or Unc or possibly both, they would not return until they were all blind drunk, shit-faced, or somewhere in between.

Gramps would often venture off alone to his favorite neighborhood watering hole after dinner. Mom designated a time limit for his visitation. Oft ignored, Mom would clock-watch and eventually send Dad to fetch him. Dad claimed that, one wintry evening, he saw Gramps exiting the side door of the bar. While coming out, he was observed putting a small brown paper bag into his hip pocket. Dad noticed what he believed to be the top of a small bottle extruding from the top of the bag. Gramps's first step caused him to slip and fall on a patch of ice. Landing on his backside, Dad noticed a wet spot immediately developing on the back of the old man's pants pocket. Dad swears he saw Gramps feel for the wet spot, which was looming larger by the second. With his eyes lifted to heaven and extending his dampened hand, Bernie prayed aloud, Dear God, please let it be blood!

Not wishing to be confronted by irritable tenants, my playtime was restricted. My folks were considerate to the comfort of their renters. I felt muzzled by their need to curb my enthusiasm just to satisfy the serenity of a couple of stodgy neighbors. I would be scolded or shushed often at the zenith of my activity. My favorite toys were four die-cast steel vehicles. They consisted of a fire truck, a police car, a gray and green taxi, and a Greyhound bus replete with the ‘Hound insignia on both sides. I would often fantasize that I was the bus driver transporting passengers to any number of exciting environs.

Alas, my energetic play apparently threatened any hope of harmony with those living below us. My playtime, with its imaginary busy city streets and the serenity of the open road, was relegated to the confines of our back porch on its third-floor landing. Caution was required. One strong push of a vehicle could send it through the slatted pickets of the back-porch railing. Hope was that the toy would land undamaged in the grass far below. Many a dent and bent wheel resulted when the toy went straight down and hit concrete. So only God knows how many imaginary policemen, taxi drivers, or bus passengers came to their untimely demise due to my careless play.

Appropriate noise control was an important principle for being a good landlord. Despite close monitoring of the volume, music held an important place in the Nowoc household. My folks would play Sinatra, Tony Bennett, Rosemary Clooney, Perry Como, Vaughn Monroe, and others on brittle records made from a shellac resin and played at seventy-eight rpm. During happier times, I would spy Dad spinning Mom around the kitchen floor, dipping and crooning into her ear.

The two were diametrically different. Small of stature and never weighing more than 128 pounds, Dad was social yet extremely self-conscious. He was a great storyteller. A gifted sleight-of-hand magician, he was a master of card, coin, rope, and scarf illusions. He was proficient at doing pantomime. In honing his craft, he would perform at various venues and charity events. This helped supplement his income working as a stamping and fabrication supervisor for a Chicago perforating company.

No fan of famed pediatrician Dr. Benjamin Spock, Mom believed in spare the rod, spoil the child. The family disciplinarian, she was a proponent of corporal punishment. Incredibly loving, paradoxically, she never found a belt, strap, wooden spoon, or a quick hand slap that couldn't effectively result an immediate change of attitude or behavior in any one or all her children.

Dad's parenting style was like that of an old philosopher. After joining Cub Scouts and library club and beginning accordion lessons, I wound up quitting each shortly after starting. Dad felt the timing for me to be taught a life lesson seemed propitious. The following morning, our destination was that of a local family restaurant. As he sipped his coffee and I sipped my chocolate milk, he told me, Jimmy, you have a problem. Son, I don't believe you know the difference between involvement and commitment. That being said, he ordered us two breakfasts consisting of ham and eggs. When the waitress delivered the meals to our table, Dad pointed to my order of eggs and mused Jimmy, The hen who laid those eggs was involved in our meal. Directing me to the portion of ham deliciously waiting in front of me, he said, Son, understand this, the pig that provided that beautiful ham slice? He was committed to our meal. Point well-taken.

Mom was an outgoing and attractive woman who kept her hair dyed very blond. Loraine Helene worked as head cashier for A&P and National Tea grocery chains. She drove an old DeSoto. Always a freethinker and very much ahead of the times, she drove and worked when a woman doing so was the exception, not the rule. She was nicknamed Blondie in reference to and as a tribute to the Chic Young heroine in his comic strip.

Hank and Lor seemed always ahead of the curve. Teaching his sons about opportunity, he told us that many opportunities would come our way. The success or lack thereof comes from recognizing an opportunity and how you subsequently react to it.

Memories of 1955

James Dean dies in car crash

Ray Kroc starts McDonalds

Jonas Salk's polio vaccine declared safe and effective

U.S. begins involvement in Viet Nam

Mickey Mouse Club debuts

Disneyland opens in California

First cans of Coca Cola are introduced

Gallon of gas is .23 cents

First pocket transistor radio available

Popularity of Rock 'N Roll music increases

A few of the songs I was listening to in 1955

A snappy dresser, dad engages in porch repair.

This is the way we dried our clothes circa 1953

Two generations of bullies, Gramps and Fred

Uncle Ronnie at graduation

Blondie before she discovered peroxide

Chapter 2

Play Ball

My folks were presented with quite the opportunity in 1954. Dad's folks had passed on when Dad learned that a fellow employee, Clarence Kindall, was selling his house built on three-quarters of an acre of land in Oak Lawn, Illinois. Oak Lawn was an up-and-coming southwest suburb bordering Chicago. Confident of the advantages they would be providing their family, Hank and Lor purchased the home from Mr. Kindall. During the summer of 1955, we were all packed and headed for our new residence in Oak Lawn, Illinois.

Though only fourteen miles from our former north side Humboldt Park location, the drive to the new home proved lengthy due to the lack of any existing expressways. Families generally lived in close proximity to one another. Just to hear our former neighbors and family members, you would have thought we had relocated to Iowa.

I was the eldest of three as we prepped for the move. Brother Bobby was three years my junior. Sister Linda was three years younger than Bobby. Mom was pregnant with brother Kenny, who arrived shortly after we moved into our new digs.

Author with siblings Linda, Kenny and Bobby—1956

The change from living on the third floor of a smallish urban apartment to a roomy suburban dwelling was substantial. Baseball, for instance, played on Rockwell Street consisted like more of a game of strikeout. Generally, four maybe five would participate. We would all meet at the nearby Catholic church. Using railroad chalk, we would draw a rectangular strike zone on the brick foyer wall. In order, we would each take our turn at bat. When the ball was hit, we would arbitrarily decide if it was a single, double, or triple. A ball hit on the fly, over the street, and over Mrs. Koziol's clothesline was declared a home run. Lengthy arguments would pursue whether a pitch was a strike or a ball when the pitch was taken by the batter.

Moving to the open spaces of Oak Lawn provided us the ability to craft a baseball diamond from our side yard. 4416 W. 103rd Street became our mini Comiskey Park. Our ballpark was located adjacent to the Voss Farm. A half mile west of this plot existed an Army Nike missile site staffed