MY SISTER WAS AN ONLY CHILD

THINGS IN MY LIFE I HAVE LEARNED

Over the past seventy years I have made plenty of mistakes. Here are some of the most memorable. In looking back, I think the biggest mistake I made, and kept on making was to not think a decision all the way through. If I had, I would have never married Jane. I did that to punish Nancy. Nor would I have married Betty. I did that, for the most part to please my mother. I had fun with Betty and we loved each other in our own way, but there was never any romance. My mistake Betty, not yours. The biggest mistake was ever selling Chandler Lane. It split the family, cost Sidney, me and the children untold pain. And, who knows, if we had stayed in Corpus, King Alonzo ?? We truly were the uncrowned king and queen of Corpus and I just didn’t think it through. Sorry Sid, but you know that.

I learned that if I didn’t drink I wouldn’t get drunk. I also learned that not drinking and getting sober were worlds apart. Oh, I smoked some weed over the years but I believe that I smoked more the last week of my drinking/using days than I did in the entire 27 years I’ve been sober. I feel that it wasn’t until 2006 that I really got sober. Really working the Sixth Step saved my ass and doing the same with the Seventh Step saved my soul. When I really worked the Twelfth Step, I discovered that my ass and my soul were irrevocably joined.

Time was one enemy I just couldn’t even break even with. I felt I was immortal or at least bullet-proof and invisible. Case in point, were all the changes in my life. It seemed that I could always do better, time was on my side. The real answer was best summed up by a verse from a Robert W. Service poem. “There’s a race of men that can’t stand still so the break the hearts of kith and kin and roam the world at will. If they went straight, they might go far, for they are the strong, the brave and true but always tire of things that are and search for the strange and new. They say, if I could my proper groove what a deep mark I would make. But they chop and change but each fresh start is just a fresh mistake”. There’s more, but you get the point. I do.

Over the years I’ve learned a lot about responsibility. I learned a lot of it from London. Captain, Nifka, and Speedo, my sweet and wonderful cats and dogs. One time in Denver I was in a deep funk and suicide seemed the only way out. I thought if I were going to meet my maker I might as well be naked, just the way I came into this world. I stripped, went to the balcony, looked down fifteen floors and had one leg over when Captain came out and had both paws on one leg and was meowing as loud as she could. The thing was she never made a sound before. She had always been as silent as a tomb I took it as her saying get off the rail you silly bastard, I don’t know how to open a can. That opened my eyes to a lot of things. One was I was responsible for their well being. They not only can’t open cans or doors to go out or even dial the phone to call the vet if one was sick. All they could really do was love me. And realizing that made me realize that the price of love was responsibility, I started being more responsible. Over the years it has become second nature.

Another thing is that I’ve found that the world judges me on my actions and I judge myself on my intentions. No wonder I had so many ruptured relationships, lost opportunities, broken marriages and on and on. I am learning to have my intentions and my actions to meld as one these days.

Lying is something else that plagued me over the years. An old saying states that a word spoken often enough becomes truth. At times I would have rather told you I was going to SavOn than I was really going to Rite Aid. No reason. Nothing gained, just a lie. It took years to discover just how far from the truth my life was.

I have been fairly successful in business over time. What I have learned is I make a living by what I get but I make a life by what I give. Working with the homeless addict/alcoholic in Denver and being a drug and alcohol counselor in Los Angeles has brought that fact home and done it in spades. To help those who truly can’t help themselves is an honor and a blessing.

These are some others I’m working on. I’ll fill them in some day soon.

Listening
Laughing
Friends are more important than money
Religion and spirituality are vastly different to some.
I want everything I’ve got.

THINGS I'VE LEARNED ALONG THE WAY

MY SISTER WAS AN ONLY CHILD 1996-2007

MY SISTER WAS AN ONLY CHILD 1976-1995

MY SISTER WAS AN ONLY CHILD 1963-1975

MY SISTER WAS AN ONLY CHILD 1959-1963

Let’s Get Married - Twice
Long story short, after spending a fortune on the telephone, I asked her to marry me she said yes and I picked her up at Miami International and in no time we said I Dos at a Lutheran Church in Coral Gables. The real storey came later at the reception.

The reception was held out at my Cousin Charlie Cabell’s place. It was a large estate out on Red Road which was the boonies in the 1960s. Wine, women and song plus Roger Makin skydiving naked into the party. Oh, we also were racing sports cars down the long driveway. It was quite a party. I think Betty was longing for Mississippi about then.

The facts were: we were married, I went back to school, Betty got pregnant, along came Pamela Gillespie. On June 27th of 1960 I took Betty to Jackson Memorial Hospital sometime in early evening as she was in labor big time. The only socially redeeming quality about Jackson Memorial was on the top floor was the Stork Club. A watering hole where expectant dads, such as myself could wait out the storm. Along about 5:00am the nurse called me down to see my newborn. She was a pretty little thing and the nurse asked if we’d picked a name. I said yes, “Pamela”. She asked further, “A middle name”? I was half in the bag and more than a little irritable when I snapped back, “For God’s sake, Lady, its dawn. Pamela Dawn Gillespie entered the family.

We moved back to our two bedroom apartment in Homestead, Florida. It was actually a serried of four-plexes that housed mostly married students. We got down and dirty bringing up a new baby. I remember one day after changing a particularly messy diaper that I had gotten a letter from Pam’s God-father and my dear friend John Rosson. I had written him earlier about the horrors of diaper changing. In part, the letter said, “The time will come when you will be able to change a diaper with one hand and spread mustard on a ham sandwich with the other”. He was right.

What with school, being a father, again drinking too much, a hairs being broken over my back by an irate wife and, don’t forget a night in the Dade County Jail, we were all glad to leave Miami and go back to Texas for the Summer. One day when I came in from playing golf Mother said I had a letter from Mexico. It was my acceptance to the Universidad de Mexico.

We spent the next few months getting ready to immigrate to Mexico. Dad had one of his me in the Trim Shop make a large rectangular bag to fit on the roof of our Opel station wagon so we go bring more of our stuff. That bag almost killed us in the mountains above Mexico City. That bag, full of our stuff made the little Opel top heavy and going around those sharp curves got us up on two wheels a couple of times. When I looked over the side I saw what looked like about a 5,000 foot fall. Needless to say, we made it.

We stayed a 345 Rio Lerma. Diana the Huntress was aiming her arrow right at our fifth floor apartment. She took on more significance when I discovered that drug stores down there really meant drug stores. Now I was getting loaded and getting drunk, too. Remember Diana? Well, after a particularly strange combination of drugs I could swear she was shooting arrows at me. I remember our maid Gerlinda coming out on the balcony to see what was the matter. I was under the table ducking arrows that was all.

After six months of drinking, drugging and generally wasting time and money, decided to head back North to Texas and Corpus Christi. Once there, as a family man, I needed to get a job. Incidentally, Daddy had cut me off making the choice to go to work even easier.

I read the want ads one day and saw an ad asking “Do you want to make $375 per month”? I did, applied and was hired by Southland Life all in one day. Within a few months I became one of the leading salesmen in the area.

I had an office downtown and on the way would stop at a drive in and have a few beers. I played golf every day and would drink during the round and then get serious about it at the 19th Hole.

We bought a cute little house out by Parkdale and I settled into the life of the working, father, and husband – for a while. I went to work, sold insurance and played golf and gin rummy almost every day except Sunday. That’s when I went with Betty and little Pam to the Church of the Good Shepherd.

While on the outside things looked alright, I was drinking in the morning, at lunch, on the golf course and made Daiquiris at home at night. I take off for Bandera or Nuevo Laredo too often.

Through family connections I was able to sell a large policy that kept my job and marriage alive for a while. But finally the dam broke and I was sent off to Menninger’s Foundation in Topeka, KS. Mom, Daddy, Betty and me off to see the Wizard.

I was there for several months and the peculiar thing about that stay was that at no time, by no one was alcohol or drugs ever mentioned. The main thing I can remember was that I was convinced this was all Betty’s fault. Drinking and drugging were not the issue. I could stop whenever I wanted.

One time when the family came to get a report and to visit me, I remember Daddy asking how long this treatment would go on. The reply was probably another year or so. Daddy said the insurance would run out in a few months. They said, “He’ll be ready by then”.

What a place. I forget how much it cost but it was a fortune and there’s nothing significant that I can write about. Just talking with doctors, going to Handicrafts or Ceramics (I made an ashtray) eating, sleeping and then doing it all again. They did keep me pretty well doped up.

One of my doctors was an Italian Count. Dr. Alberto Malioka, MD, PhD and I met each day and usually went for a walk on the sculptured grounds. One afternoon Dr. Malioka was particularly resplendent in his cape, Bat Man sun glasses and complete with a silver tipped cane. After some question/answer period he stopped, tapped his cane on the sidewalk and said. “Mr. Gillespie, the only thing not phony about you is the way you breathe”. That about said it all.

The Day arrived. Daddy came to Topeka and got me. Instead of taking me back to Corpus Christi I was taken to John Sealy Hospital in Galveston, Texas. Specifically, I went to the Randall Pavilion, Seventh Floor. Talk about a lock-up, the only way down was either the keyed elevator or the locked fire stairs. Daddy checked me in, gave someone my file from Menninger’s and hugged me. It was the first time he ever did that it was also the first time I saw him cry.

John Sealy was a whole lot different than Menninger’s. Patients at Menninger’s were mostly neurotic. The ones at Sealy were mostly psychotic. There were a couple of dopers and boozers like me there among the screamers, droolers, rockers and other assorted flip-outs.

One friend I made was Jerry Mc Dermott. He came from a wealthy family in the Hill Country of Texas. His problem was the same as mine – too much, too fast, and for too long. We both agreed that we needed a drink or two. The question was how to get off this floor?

The answer came about a week later. Jerry came up to me and told me he had the key to elevator. Since we were only a block from the beach and the Balinese Room was on the pier on the beach and we were both members of that lovely spot, we were only a few yards from a drink. The reason the Balinese was so important to us was in those days you could buy Scotch and you could buy water, but you couldn’t buy a Scotch and water except in a private club. The Balinese Room was one such club.

We waited until no nurses were around and in the key went and down we went. We were dressed in our gowns with butts hanging out and bathrobes when we ran up the pier to the doors of the Balinese. As we walked in, Peter the bartender said “Good Morning, Gentlemen”. Peter had a hefty tip coming.

We ordered double Beefeater martinis for the next hour or so. Then, as luck would have it, I looked over my shoulder and there sat Dr. Brittain, my doctor along with several other staff from Sealy. There were no cell phones in those days but the good doctor lost no time in getting to the House Phone. I told Peter to just fill two Old Fashioned glasses with gin as just as we downed those two, in came the Men in White. Talk about drunk, we were the Poster Boys for Inebriation.

The next thing I knew, I was scheduled for a series of ECT or electroconvulsive therapy better know today as shock treatments. The procedure was to be strapped to a table, get an injection of curare and get a metal spoon placed in my mouth while someone counted to three. At three the lights went out for me and I woke up with a nurse giving me a huge glass of orange juice.

The straps were to hold me down. The curare was a drug used by Jivaro Indians of the Amazon Basis to kill small animals with their blow guns. It was used to keep me from going into convulsions. The spoon was to keep me from swallowing my tongue.

When the family came to visit, I couldn’t recognize them. Daddy would take me to play golf and I would ask him where the next hole was. A golfer doesn’t forget a golf course in a week.

When they released me to go home I just didn’t remember people, including my wife Betty. It must have been pretty hard on her, too.

I’m not clear on what happened next but I knew she was pregnant, and it was time for me to go. I left for parts unknown and sometime later she gave birth to my oldest son, Henry Carter Gillespie IV.

The next call was to Cy Cyrus.

Although we’ve been apart for over three decades, the sweet talking Southern lady is still
on my Speed Dial.

MY SISTER WAS AN ONLY CHILD 1956-1959

MY SISTER WAS AN ONLY CHILD
1956-1959
Let’s Get Married - Once
That seemed to be the phrase I used in lieu of let’s go to bed after I got out of high school. Case in point; after I would leave Nancy I would go and either climb in the window of Jo or I would visit the Jane. This one night Namcy saw my car parked at the Jane’s home. When I climbed out of the window there she stood. She called me everything but a white boy, never call, never come by, never think of me you ##@#&#**#.

Well Jane saw an opportunity and morphed into a combo of herself and Jo. What’s a poor boy to do I said “Let’s Get Married”. Now Mom and Dad had gone to a football game in Austin so I fell into their big bed and passed out. The next morning Otis woke me up with, “Miss Jane is calling. “Now, I asked”? She came up the stairs and said “Aren’t we getting married today”. We did with driver’s license I forged on the steps of the Bee County Court House as she was only 16.

When Mom and Dad got back it was a quick call to Cy Cyrus for an annulment. That tool care of Miss Mouth and the US Marine Corps took care of me. From July 29, 1956 to August 13, 1958 I was in the care, custody and control on Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children.

Tattoos and booze and then it was over. No big deal just living in Laguna Beach with a new purple Buick Invicta, booze and loads of beach bunnies. Back to being a prince again.

When I got home from the Marines, Mom in her own fashion, had found the perfect girl for me, Betty, a Mississippi Queen. We had a few dates and then it was time for me to go to Europe. The next thing you know I was on the way to NYC with Mom, Dad, and Angel.

I left on the USS America bound for Bremerhaven, Germany. I went cabin class which meant coat and tie for dinner. I had three roommates but I can’t remember anything about any of them. The trip took five days and I spent almost all that time in the bar. Maybe that’s why I can’t remember any roommates.

Daddy had arranged from me to go to the Opel factory and get a station wagon. Really fun deal. I reverse hitch-hiked all over Europe. You were standing there with your thumb out and I stopped and asked where you were going, “Barcelona, you’d say” I would say gas is probably $40 and we could split it if you want. Away we’d go. Nice chicks, too. Mainly Dutch. When I found out you could get all the hash you wanted in Amsterdam, off to Holland I went. I was in Hog Heaven.

I finally made it to the South of France and stayed in a small pension named La Cigone, the stork The owners, Philippe and Jacqueline Macci took a liking to me and offered me a job as a waiter in the evenings, and I jumped on that like a duck on a bug. The job wasn’t difficult as Jacqueline had the dinners on the blackboard. She’d coach me before dinner time so I could get used to the sounds. Veal was Veaux and so on.

One morning as I was in my surfers and my La Cigone jacket in came two good looking English girls with a Guide Michelin in one hand. That was a book for tourists with various phases to ask directions, order food and more. The blonde says Garcon, donnas moi un vase du vin rouge. Bring me a glass of red wine I did and one for the other lady as well. Merci, said one as I walked back to the bar. A Little while later it was Encore, sil’vous plait Hit me again. After a few more hits their conversation turned to the waiter. They were complaining why they weren’t staying here instead of up the street. That was my queue. I grabbed a new bottle and another glass and sat down at their table. I said,in my best Texas drawl, when are we going to quit talking about it and start getting it on. I’ll help move your things. “You speak English? I said, “They taught it every day back in Texas. They moved to La Cigone. Wow. First time for everything.

I had a great time but not much cash. So, I sent Daddy a telegram saying I lost my ticket and need $397 to leave from Le Haurve. Four days later there was my telegram for $400. A Few weeks later I sent another saying Tourist Class was sold out and an upgrade to Cabin Class was another $450. Four days later there was my cash. The next time I tried it I went to the post office and there was my telegram. I opened it but instead of the money I had requested I had a one word reply, “Swim”. Daddy was a joker at times.

Then one August day I was called to the phone. It was the only call I had ever gotten and I was curious. My curiosity was sated when I heard the sweet, Southern voice. It was Betty and she told me Daddy had a heart attack but was much better. She suggested I come home.

A few weeks later I passed the Statue of Liberty and headed into New York harbor. It took a few hours to get my car off the boat and then I was on the road to Texas. Daddy was playing golf, Betty and I dated a short while but I had been accepted at the University of Miami. I had gotten a new Buick Century convertible. It was fire engine red and we made a good pair, me and that convert. I was gong Mach 2 with my hair on fire as I left for Miami.

I hadn’t gotten to Bay St Louis, Mississippi when I knew I had made a big mistake. I missed the Southern voice. She wasn’t bad to look at, not bad in bed either, for that matter.

The drive from Corpus to Miami took 25 hours. I went thru Orientation without sleep, got my dorm Assignment and moved in. here were four of us R.E..Lee, Marty Fleckman and Charles Dawson.. I remember them well ‘cause we lived together for nine months.

School was boring but right down Dixie HWY was the Campus Canteen or the Can as we called it. It was the watering hole for U of M. I spent more time there than anywhere else. Small wonder my GPA was 2.5. I did 4.0 in high school with no books. But there was no Can in Corpus.

One Friday I fell off my stool and was lying on the floor in some pain. I heard a voice outside the crowd that had formed around me saying “let me through, I’m a nurse”. When she got through, she unzipped my fly. The Can was a place of many talents.

One day someone got the idea of going to Cuba for the weekend. About ten couples of us caravanned down to Key West. There we caught Q Airlines to Jose Marti Airport in Havana. Q Airlines had a fleet of two DC3s that took us the ninety miles to Cuba for the whopping price of $10, one way. My date was a lady known far and wide for her sexually proclivities, the lovely Barbara Dudash.

We got two suites at the Tropicana ($125 each) and headed for the pool. After a bunch of Cuba Libres and some great Cubanos we all decided to nap or what have until dinner at about 9:00pm. We ate in the grill and took cabs to Habana Viejo, old Havana to see some shows. Our driver said the best in town was Superman so that’s where we went. We were about an hour early for the show which gave us tables by the stage. After more Cuba Libres the lights dimmed and the first act came on stage, the Goose Woman. She pranced around and in awhile out came a goose. The Goose Woman had stripped down and was on an inverted bench. The goose mounted here and I don’t know who had the best time.

After the stage was cleared out came the star. He was about 5’4” and had red boots and a silver cape. Out came his co-star and she laid on a sort of couch. He opened his cape and for all the world to see why he was called Superman. His private parts were the size of my forearm and he proceeded to get warmed up he got on top of his co-star and after about ten minutes of moaning and groaning, Barbara jumped up on stage and said I have to have some of that. When she got thru with Superman they could have called him Superboy. Barbara Dudash, what a lady!

Back at school I was having a rough time. It was partly because I was I was drinking and partying so much and partly because I was in engineering school. What a dumb idea! I couldn’t even make a slide rule calculation. I transferred to Business Adminstration, slowed down on the drinking, got my GPA up to a more respectable level and spent more than a few nickels calling Corpus Christi to that sweet talking lady from Okalona.

MY SISTER WAS AN ONLY CHILD 1951-1955

High Schools and Lost Farms

My fourteenth summer was one I wish I could forget. I left Texas with Daddy and Mom
in an air conditioned Buick Road Master. Things were as usual at Trafalgar, riding, Beale
Street, some ladies, and working the farm … until the last week of summer. That’s when,
down on Beale Street for a goodbye celebration, I drank more Seven and Sevens than I
could hold. They told me they put me on a pallet on the back of one of the trucks and I
didn’t move until they got Will to carry me to bed that night.

Will brought me some breakfast the next morning but the smell had me running to the bathroom. He said you’re in deep trouble now. The Mrs. has been burning up the phone to your
folks in Texas. Will was chuckling as he left the bedroom as he was saying something about wild women and whiskey.

The next thing I knew both my mother and father were telling me I was going to school in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Up they came in a few days. We drove down and I meet Dr. Bob Mc Callie, the Headmaster who told me that everything would be fine, just fine. Glad he thought so. I wanted to go to Texas or back to the farm or anywhere else but Mc Callie School for Boys.
Mc Callie School For Boys
I was directed to the commissary where I got basic uniforms. The dressy stuff came later. I also got sheets and towels and someone lead the three of us over to North Hall, the oldest dorm on the campus. Mom made my bed and I got into my uniform. It fit but my tennis shoes didn’t fit with the total picture. Off to downtown and new shoes. When we drove back up Mc Callie Avenue Mom started crying. I almost started crying too, uniforms, Ugh.

North Hall was lovingly called Animal House by some. It was pretty gross alright. Three stories of Mc Callie’s worst. I don’t know why I was there ‘cause they didn’t even know me. One of my roommates and the only one I can remember was a big guy named Griff Fawcett. Big as a tree and just as smart.

The next morning at the dining room after breakfast some guy came up to me with his tray of dirty dishes and said something about take it you’re my Rat. Now I’ve been called a lot of things but a Rat was not one of them and besides I’ve always had Will, or Otis or Stella Mae or someone to carry my dishes. I told him where he could put his tray and he shoved me. I got up to give this cat a helping of whupass when a big hand pushed me back in to my chair. It was Griff and he said to the other guy that he would explain the situation to me.

Apparently, freshman would be called Rats by the upperclassmen. One of which would be assigned as my Boss. I would get second helpings, take laundry back and forth, polish his brass before the monthly inspection and, yes, take his tray to the window where someone would wash the dishes. Where was Otis when you really needed him?

I don’t really remember much about Mc Callie except for my cousin Martin Sharp. He was from the Nashville, or Mother’s side of the family. Martin and I were a whole lot alike, kind of daredeveilish, we both thought the rules were for the other guy. Every now and then we’d go over to Nashville on his Triumph. He parked it someone else’s garage ‘because the school didn’t allow underclass men to have scooters.

One time riding over the mountains to Nashville we just got to the crest of a ridge, on the other side were two 18 wheelers one passing the other. We couldn’t stop in time, we couldn’t go off either side of the road as there were either mountainside or valley. Martin just slapped my leg and headed for space in between the two trucks. As we got in that slot the noise from our exhaust was deafening. I thought we were dead and then were out and down the hill and we stopped and I threw up and we both laughed the laugh that only people who have faced death and made it can do.

Those were good times in Chattanooga and Nashville. I met a lot of my relatives and Martin and I did some healthy partying, Southern style. Uncle Alfred, Aunt Marne were Martin’s Mom and Dad. They were also Mom’s sister and brother-in-law. They had a beautiful mansion called Boxwood. It was across the street from the Belmeade Country Club. It doesn’t get much neater that that. Ann and Alf were his older brother and sister. Ann was so beautiful, she later became a portrait painter I often wished she would paint me. Alf was and officer in the 1st and 3rd National Bank One day he noticed a lump on his hip and went to the doctor. He was dead in a couple of months from melanoma.

Nashville was so very different from Memphis and Corpus Christi. Much more elegant. My and Hulda Cheek had a huge estate east of Belmeade. It was a beautiful horse country estate. It was where my sister and Lundy were married. I remember that Lundy drove up in a 1939 Ford Convertible that he had named the Blue Goose. After the reception Nina and Lundy drove down the driveway, both sides filled with limos, Caddies, Buicks and all kinds of assorted new cars. The top was down and Nina’s veil was flowing out the back It made quite a sight.

In Nashville,the partying was fast and furious. We usually started at Nick Varalo’s Drive Inn. Black men in uniforms would take our orders. The specialty was Three Way Chili. Chili with beans, cheese and spaghetti... Then get some beer and wine and go up to the party to get loaded and probably in a fight or two. We always has Frankie Metcalf with us and seemed like always ran into Russell Brothers and his crowd. We would get challenged to a race around the park and there would usually be an argument about who took what road or turn which would end in a fight. I got my ass beat so much I was glad to get back to school.

The term was about over but I still owed some more laps to the Grinder. I got one lap for each demerit I got, things like being lat for class, not having my tie tied properly, or shoes not shined. That was the oval race track that ran around the foot/soccer fields. I had over 100 laps to walk to clear the books. I finished all laps about the time that Dad picked me to another summer at the farm.

We had just gotten up the drive way when around the corner came Cal on his bay and towing a big brown hose. Dad said Earle North sent this up for you. His name is Wimpy’s Heir III. Now Wimpy was the finest quarter horse of the day so this horse had to be a fine ride. I jumped out while Will was unlading and off I went Wimpy # III. He was like riding in a rocking chair. Cal said they’re waiting. Just those words caused a stirring in my loins.

The highlight of the fifteenth summer of my life came when we baling hay and I reached in the chute to clear a jam when I pulled my hand out there was a small snake attached to it. It hurt like hell and Coots came running over, pulled the snake off, cut of his head, cut an X in the side of my left hand and stared sucking on the wound in what seemed like one motion. The snake was a Copperhead and Coots quick action probably saved my hand or arm. He got Cal to sit in the back of the truck and he and Dallas laid me down with my head in Cal’s lap. He was almost white and I called him on it. He didn’t laugh. By the time we got to the house my hand was as big as a boxing glove and my arm was swelling too. Angel was pretty calm. She got Will to get a bunch of ice and some towels. With the ice on my hand and arm and Will driving like Indianapolis as I lay in Angel’s lap doing a Don Juan. Acid was never like a snake bite. When we got to Baptist Hospital some guard told Will he’d have to go around to the back. That’s when Angel made the quickest move of all and when the guard got through he was probably glad to be alive. We went in the front. The ER went to work and all I can remember was the lights went out in Memphis and I woke up two days later.

The rest of the summer was pretty interesting. Dad had a 4th of July BBQ for all the hands and their families, a bunch of the brass at General Motors and other friends.

To get ready for the feast we had a lot of work. First select a large hog and a yearling cow. They were shot between the eyes, their throats cut and hung upside down to drain the blood out of their systems. Then two large cauldrons of water were placed on some burning logs. The boiling water was used to dunk the animals and then scrape the hair off of them. While that was going on, some men were digging pits in the front yard down by the pond and front gate. These pits will be filled with hickory logs to burn down to the coals to cook our dinner.

Will was working with Angel to make all the finings, potato salad, slaw, cobbler and all that. Dad made gallons of Trafalgar BBQ Sauce his secret recipe. In the afternoon of the 3rd the animals were coated with sauce and lowered into the pits. Once in, they were covered with wet cloths and for the next 24 hours the cloths were lift the meat turn and basted and the cloths replaced. I remember getting a piece of pig meat. It was so hot it burned my hands, black on the outside and white on the inside. I dipped it in the BBQ sauce and, wow, I can still taste that meat.

While the meat was cooking, Cal got a couple of the girls. One had a pallet which we threw in the back of the truck and spent the rest of the night doing our thing under the Tennessee moon with that wonderful fragrance of hickory smoked meat wafting over us. As Etta James puts it, “Oh. What a Night”!

As August came, Summer was ending and I was going back to Mc Callie to have my own Rat, and a big surprise as well. Dad and Angel drove me up the Smokies to Missionary Ridge and the Mc Callie School for Boys. When I checked in I found that I had a new room, the Attic. The Attic was the name for a two man room at the very top of North Hall. This was nice and more like it.

Dad went off to chew the fat with some old reprobates while Angel and I unpacked my bags and made my bed. I saw that Grif’s bed was already made. It would be good to see the big guy again. Angel and Dad and I went to the Read House for dinner and have them checked in for the night. I stayed on a pull-out in the living room. There was a small TV there too. I remember seeing Queen Elizabeth’s Inauguragation on that little set. Before I went to bed, Dad came in and gave me a handful of cash. He said you might need this and off he went. Dad was not always long on words.

The next morning at breakfast a little guy came up and said “My name is Pat Lyle and I’m your Rat, Sir”. Twenty two years later as I was being indoctrinated at Harvard Business School, a little guy stepped up to the podium and said “My name is Professor Pat Lyle and I will be your instructor in Corporate Finance this term”. Oh, oh, I was in deep stuff, I thought. But Pat turned out to be a true Southern gentleman and we picked where we left off in Tennessee.

Martin and Frankie were back and we swapped tales about our summers. They both wanted to come to Trafalgar and meet Calvin and some of the girls. Neither one of them had done it with a girl and was more than curious about sex. I felt like a big shot. Then the first bell rang and off to class we went.

Class, drill field, intra mural sports and going on bus rides to watch our football team kick ass. We were undefeated last year and looked like this year would be the same. It wasn’t bad, I thought only missing ingredient was the young ladies from Memphis.

Homecoming we played Staunton and beat them 30 something to nothing. Riding back to school, Griff said look what I found. It was a bottle of Apple Jack. I said they’ll throw us out if the catch us with that. Griff smiled and said that’s why we are in the attic. So he got me up there. Not as dumb as I had once imagined.

Back in our room, we started drinking the brandy. He asked me to tell him more about my summer and as I did I saw that Griff was jacking himself off. That gave me some pretty mixed emotions but I stated doing the same. I had my eyes closed as I was relaying some of mine and Cal’s experiences when I heard Griff say let me help you. He put my hand on his while he started a slow rhythm on mine. And then he started kissing my nipples and down my belly. His mouth was hot and felt wet and I was pumping away and pounding him when I just started screaming. Etta James had nothing on me and Griff. He said let’s shower and on the way he said if you ever say anything about this, I’ll kill you. I said the same goes for you old man.

I got taken before the Senate for cheating in geography. I asked someone coming out of the classroom “What is weather”? It happened that was on the test. I didn’t know it but this question was on the test. They pulled me into this Kangaroo Court and told me I had to apologize to the entire student body. Said asked who among you is carry a 4.0 average? Why would I need to cheat? To no avail. The next day at Assembly Dr Bob Mc Callie announced that PFC Gillespie had something to say. As I walked up the aisle to the podium I realized what I had to say. I said something like Did you miss me while I was gone? I went to Australia yesterday and visited a Kangaroo Court. I told them and I tell you, I did not cheat. Thank you for your attention. I walked back to my chair accompanied by a thunderous ovation. Dr Bob wanted to see me in his office. Oh well, can’t please ‘em all.

Later that Fall I went out with some upperclassmen and we went over to the dark side of Chattanooga. I got drunk as I had ever been and when I came to I was I Major Burns’ office. He was the Corps Commander and really a nice man. He said son I’ve got to recommend that you be dismissed from the corps. At this point all I wanted was to take a hot shower and go to sleep.

The next morning, after breakfast I was summoned to the Mc Callie Headquarters. The third floor, overlooking the drill field was their bailiwick. When I walked in I was told my parents had been informed that I had been expelled from school. They went on saying I was to wear civilian clothes and stay in either my room, the dining hall, or the library under someone came to pick me up. They said I could use the phone in the outer office to call home. Mom cried and Dad said worse things have happened. He also said they were building a new dealership at 401 S Water and he was going to send a new man, Russell to get me. He should be there in two days. I guess I just wasn’t cut out for this fine old, up tight, Southern prep school after all.

In the dining hall bunches of classmates came by to give me their condolences. That night Martin and I took off on his Triumph and got some beer and rode up to the top on Missionary Ridge and looked down on Mc Callie. Six beers later he let me off at North Hall. When I got up to my room, Griff said he was worried about me. When I got in bed Griff was kneeling beside me. He said one for the road. The next half hour was the finest oral sex I had ever imagined. As I was falling to sleep I felt Griff toweling me off. I’ll miss Griff.

The next afternoon a new Buick station wagon pulled up and there was Russell all dressed up s a Chauffer with coat, cap and all. Just like Menger School days, a chauffer and all. Russell loaded me up in the car and as I hugged Martin and Frankie, Pat came up and handed me a sack. He said it was some fried chicken and a few things. I told him he’d been a good Rat. I waved a Griff as I got in and off we went to Texas.
Russell didn’t talk much and he drove pretty fast thru Arkansas to Louisiana. I shared my fried chicken with Russell at a filing station and he went in and bought two RCs for us. We drove all night and stopped for breakfast at a café in Louisiana. They told Russell he’d have to go round to the back. I went with him. Dad had taught me a lot about equal rights. He said there wasn’t any such thing unless you did something. I guess I’ve always felt compassion and empathy for the downtrodden. The downtrodden and animals.

We finally made it home to 202 Wilshire. Stella Mae came out to help and was crying. She said don’t feel bad, we all make mistakes. I hugged her and told her I was sure glad to be back in Texas. No uniforms.
W.B. Ray High School
Since Ray High was a public school and I lived in their district, there was no problem in getting in. The Principal, U.D. Hensley, welcomed me and as he looked at my transcript he also said something about looking forward to continued high GPAs. He got them because I graduated a couple of years later with a straight 4.0. The reason I was given Valedictorian was the number of high schools I had attended.

One good thing about Ray were the lovely young ladies. To preserve their dignity I’ll not use their names. I will say that one was the first white girl I ever had. One was contortionist who was also a bit of an exhibitionist which mad an interesting combo. One was my steady lady and she was as horney as me. Every night in every way. Then there the Mouth From The South. First time for everything. Later on I married her head. Dad got it annulled, but we’ll get to that.

I finally finished my sophomore year. As was the custom at Ray a lot of guys drove up to Bandera for the Stompede. What a party. Dope, beer and broads. Add one more “B” for bull riding. Now these weren’t RCA type bulls but they would buck and kick like hell for us high schoolers. I found I was pretty good. I kept it up for years. In fact my RCA (Rodeo Cowboys of America) registration number is 238879-G. When I went to ride in a PRCA event they want a PRCA card I showed they mine from RCA days and they said welcome Grandpa.

Summer ended with countless trips to the Island, surfing, beer, dope and the ladies. One family of three daughters and a mother hung around us that summer. Before graduation I had them all, mother included. Life was sweet. UD Hensley called for me to start my junior year at Ray, or that’s where it started anyway.

I had a new Buick convertible and I parked by the flag pole on the main sidewalk to school. I got a lot of notes from staff but the car stayed.

Murray Mitchell was golf coach and he wasn’t a very good golf coach but he was a hell of a life coach. He didn’t have to be a good golf coach when he had Jack Little, Roy Box, Tommy Mairhoffer and me. We went to the Country Club after 2nd Period and practice and played until dark every school day. Then I’d stop with my caddie Fito at the Drive Inn and get a gallon jug beer and ride around until I took him home.

Things went crazy about the middle of the year. I got called in to Mr. Hensley’s office about my car. I got nailed for smoking a joint in class (dumb), and finally Ron Boyd and I came back from lunch drunk. Three strikes you’re out! To make things worse, they asked for my books. I didn’t have any books, I never checked any out. I was accused of cheating and I asked who else had a 4.0 GPA. There were two girls and I had no classes with either of them. End of inquiry. My car went bye bye and the house was full of negatives so I called Angel to see if I could go to the farm. Dad said no drunks. Such is life. T\And the worst was yet to come.

Dad was as hot headed as most Gillespies I know and since I was a drunk and a womanizer at the ripe age of 17, he sold the far, my farm, lock, stock and barrel. Needless to say I was disappointed, hurt and generally pissed off. But what could I do, he bought a small farm on Up River Rd and raised chickens. It was called Little Trafalgar and I went out there once. It sure was little alright.
Solomon P. Coles High School
I tried to go to Roy Miller but they said it would violate their zoning or something. The only other high school was Solomon P. Coles, a colored school. They let me in and I was back on Beale Street. Great dope and those colored ladies were just dying to ride a white boy. That lasted ‘til the of the school year.

That summer came my second surprise. Daddy took me to get a passport and said I was going to Venezuela for the summer. I was to work as an apprentice X-ray technician for Maracaibo Engineering and Sales. The company was owned by family friend John Howard Rosson. We inspected welds on a pipeline from Barquisimeto to Puerto Cabello, about 400 miles. Great time, great views. The sun was covered with the multi-colored hues of every conceivable type and color of parrot. The same would be the case as we drove home at sunset. The food was great and our lunches always contained cookies in a package called En El Ano Dos Mil. They were cartoons about what would the world be like in the year 2000. I was there from May 10 to August 11th. I came home with over $4000.

When I got off the plane in Miami, Mickey and Sylvia were playing Love Is Strange. I thought they ought to change the name to Life Is Strange.

Back in Texas, the rest of the summer was a little surfing and golf. I rode in a FFA rodeo in Kingsville and finished second. I made 8 seconds on three of four bulls, and of course the perennial beer, dope and ladies. Hard life, even for a prince. I missed Trafalgar.
Corpus Christi College Academy
Somehow, our nine generation Episcopal family got me into College Academy, a Catholic high school out, way out in the country. I still didn’t have a car so I rode the school bus with Brother Ben driving. Several of us would light up in the back but Ben kept of driving.

Father Alfred was headmaster and if you were absent or late to class you needed a note from him. I got so good at forging his signature that on our 40th Reunion I handed him a note I had forged. He said ”Oh, you’re the one.” I suspected but never proved it was you. Good job”.

Life was slow and easy at CA. After class I would sit with Fathers Matthew, Frederick and Alqouin and have a few long necks. I now had a car, a 54 Chevy stick shift and on Fridays I’d buy a case of beer and ice it down in the trunk. I had thrown away the spare so there was room in the wheel well for the cold beer. Since I didn’t go to communion, I drink six or eight beers during that hour of worship. At lunch I’d do it again.

I learned a lot at CA. They even made me get books. I was prepared to graduate from CA when Coach Mitchell called. He told me he could get me back in Ray if I wouldn’t drink or smoke during tournaments and I wouldn’t park my car on the sidewalk. I said deal on all parts and away to Ray I went. Daddy was so pleased he gave me my convertible back.
Back To W.B. Ray High School
On day while riding to a tournament in Alice, Coach Mitchell said the real reason you’re are back is the School Superintendent had heat from all kinds of parents about never winning a State Championship. With me back of the golf team we won 11 straight District and Regional tournaments and, of course, the State Championship. To top it off, I was the Medalist or the golfer with the lowest 72 hole score. I got a little silver cup I used to throw down tequila shooters.

Who’d believe it, but graduation finally came. I marched down the aisle with Jackie Giles and about 300 others.. All was good.

Senior Prom was a bit different than graduation. For one thing everyone was loaded. My steady wasn’t wearing panties and I was under the table on my knees enjoying our selves when out of no where, BAM, I got a slap on my butt and came out ready to fight but it was UD Hensley telling me to leave the dance and take the lady with me. Guess he didn’t know what back seats were for.

Next time you hear from me I’ll be a married man.

MY SISTER WAS AN ONLY CHILD 1946-1950

School Days, School Days Golden Broken Rule Days

Going to school at Menger Elementary School was better without a chauffer. I liked Otis, I was the only person at school with his own driver. For crying out loud, let me get out of the Third Grade before I learn ostentatious. So that’s the way life went, I was nine years old, had a horse, Molly, had flown in an airplane and this summer I was going to go on a train. I guess ostentatious did pretty well describe things.

Things were going well at the Gillespie manse. We had air conditioning. It was only in the dining room but it was air conditioning. Stella Mae, our cook and maid and my friend would come in bring a dish or two and linger by the wall unit every now and then. Stella Mae was big and black and loved me. She would sometimes let me walk with her to the bus stop about a block away and no streets for me to cross. There were always lots of maids in their uniforms from other houses waiting for the same bus. I sometimes wondered if they all lived in the same house.

One time, on a Saturday afternoon, she took me to see a movie down where she lived. The place was getting full when we got our popcorn and found some seats. I looked around and saw that I was the only white person there. It sure wouldn’t be the last time. It started with Johnnie Mack Brown riding thru the west saving young damsels from the evil villains. Then, I think another serial and then the main event. It starred Cab Calloway and the whole cast was black.

Third Grade was over. Off to the train station with the next stop being Memphis, Tennessee and Trafalgar Farm. Actually, there were lots of stops before we got to Memphis. But I didn’t care, I had my own little room and every now and then a man would come by ringing a bell and saying “Dinner is being served in the Dining Car”, or lunch or breakfast. What an adventure! I had my own money, my own room, everyone seemed to take care of me and Longview, Texas was the next stop. The man with the bell told me that Longview was where we switched engines for the final run across Louisiana, Arkansas and the Mississippi Delta up to the Mississippi River. We did that the next afternoon and I was glued to the window as we crossed UNDER the big bridge that crossed from Arkansas to Tennessee. Above us was where the cars drove. Never saw anything like that before. But man that river was big and brown.

Angel and Dad picked me up and in about an hour I was up on Molly. I rode all summer and most of it was spent with one of the hand’s sons, Calvin. Calvin and I grew close as brothers. He would ride a bay named Dinah. One day we were playing croquet and I hit the wooden ball real hard and it hit Calvin right between the eyes. Down he went and I thought I’d killed him. “Angel, Angel”, I screamed. She came out and saw Calvin on the grass. She got Will to take him home. I wondered why we just didn’t fix him here. Will told me later that Calvin wasn’t allowed in the Big House.

Summer ended and I was ready to go back to Texas. A new chauffer showed up. His name was Russell. We drove straight thru. Russell was the dude. He didn’t talk much during the trip. I liked it when we would stop to eat. It was always at a black café. I liked their food. I especially liked the black-eyed peas. Sometimes I would just order the peas and some corn bread. At one café the peas were so good I asked for a second helping. The waitress said something about I should have been born black. I wouldn’t have minded. Black folks always seem to have a pretty good time. The food was great and I was beginning to like their music.

It was kind of good to be back in Corpus Christi. I missed Stella Mae and the stories she would tell me. When I told her we drove straight thru from Memphis she went and give Russell the fussing of his life. Saying I should have stopped to let me sleep and what did I eat and where’s the money my Mom gave him for hotels? Old Russell wished he’d stayed up in Tennessee. Stella Mae always took care of me.

The Fourth Grade wasn’t much different than the Third. Same teachers and same rooms. In fact, it was almost the same students. I had a new boy named Eldon from Iowa or Ohio. He would always drawing pictures of tractors. A lot of the kids laughed at Eldon’s tractors. Not me. I lived on a farm with tractors and combines and all that stuff. I loved that farm.

That Christmas Mom and Daddy took me down to the Buick company one night. We went upstairs over the Parts Department where Daddy pulled back some cloth that covered a bicycle. It was all silver, in fact the name was, Silver King. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t a Schwin. Everybody had Schwins. I had a Silver King. I felt embarrassed when I rode it to school the first time. Later some friends helped me take of the lights and the fenders and then it looked like a boy’s bike.

Mom had a family dinner every Friday night. It was mandatory attendance. Stella Mae and Mom planned the dinner and Otis and Mom went shopping for the dishes we would have. We had a huge dining room table. It sat twelve people and a card table for the children held four more. Otis served and looked smart in his white coat and black slacks.
The meals were always good while Mom never cooked she sure was a meal planner.

One year Angel had come down to Corpus Christi and she and Mom were going to drive me back to the Farm. We started of with me in a bed in the back seat with the picnic baskets. Lots of sandwiches and fruit and drinks. I could tell Stella Mae made the sandwiches because the edges had been cut of the bread. In those days there were no freeways only two lane blacktops. I was asleep when I woke up to Mom’s yelling “Pull over, pull over”. Then a loud crash and a big shake of the car. Angel was sideswiped by a truck. Angel had taken her half out of the middle.

When we pulled up to the long drive up to the Big House at Trafalgar Mom was driving. Angel had asked her to. Dad was standing at the driveway to the house when he saw the right hand side of the car. Right away he shouted at Mom for wrecking the car. Even an 11 year old could see that Mom had been set up ‘cause Angel was afraid of Dad..

That summer was the best of my life. I broke my leg and had a cast on it. Dad took me fishing at Kentucky Lake. I drug my leg with the cast on it in the lake. Casts in those days were made out of plaster and cloth. Mine was squishy from the lake. Dad pulled out a pocket knife and cut the spongy mess of my leg. When we got back to the farm Angel was anything but happy but Dad ruled.

Another memorable even was when Calvin and I were riding one day he and Dad rode up with Angel. We were on a back field that looked over most of the farm. Dad said “Someday this will all be yours”. That was the first time but there were many more to come. When they rode off Calvin said,” I’ll be your foreman when you take over”. Cal would make a good one, I thought.

I got to drive the hay truck as we baled hay, the hands would pick up these long bales with hooks and then take them back to barns and send them up to lofts with the some kind of conveyors. I felt pretty important. But not nearly so as when Dad said you’re old enough to drive and we got in his pickup truck. It was a green, 1953 GMC with the shift on the steering column.

We drove around the lot while he taught me how to shift gears and use the brakes. After a while, Dad told me we’re going out on the road. Now out the front gate and up Raleigh-LaGrange Road to the highway was a hill and when I got to the top Dad told me to keep the truck from going backwards by using a combination of gas and clutch. After stalling out a bunch of times I asked Dad when would I learn how to do this balancing act. He said “When you’re a man”. I asked when would I be a man? His reply with a broad grin was “When policemen look like boys”.

The summer ended and I was sad. It had been a great summer but back to Texas I and to a new school, Wynne Seale Jr. High I went..

Jr. High was a lot different that Menger School. For instance, everyone was bigger, especially the girls. Another thing was the classes were more interesting. Take shop, for instance. Our teacher was a man named Mr. Mc Nutt. .One day while he was teaching safety on the router he slipped and off went his finger. Ron Boyd picked it up and said it would make a neat key chain. They came and got it from him later on but Mr. Mc Nutt didn’t come back as our Shop Teacher.

Another difference was we had grades, A, B C etc. for the first time. Surprise, surprise at the end of the year I had all As. But as the year ended, I was truly anxious to get back to Tennessee.

Back to the farm, this time Mom and Daddy drove me. We had an air conditioned Buick and it was real neat. When we got to the farm, it seemed like the whole family was together. We ate at the big table in the dining room. Most of the time we ate the breakfast table but with the guests Angel did the same thing as my Mom. A planned dinner, with Will serving in a white jacket, and good fresh food. Almost everything came from the farm. The vegetables were from our garden and the meat either from our smoke house or fresh chickens. It was great to have everyone at the table being named Gillespie.

I was 13 now and for the first time got to go to town with the hands on Saturday. We would go in two dark blue flat bed trucks with Trafalgar Farms, Cordova, Tennessee painted in white on the doors. Going the 20 miles into Memphis, we would sing, and for the first time, I drank some whiskey. I liked what it did for me. This year was a momentous year for me. I lost my virginity, man did I ever, I got drunk and I smoked weed. A triple header for the Hankster!

When we pulled into a parking lot and everybody got off and out of the trucks, the women would go shopping and the men went to Beale Street to drink and mess around. I was a man now so off I went to Beale Street. I was the only white person on the Street but I felt real safe. Everybody knew I was from Trafalgar. I was as safe as in my crib.

It was this summer, my 13th summer that I discovered more than alcohol, sex and weed, I discovered the blues. I recall that even the radio in my room had a program all night called WHBQ, Red, Hot and Blues. I saw everybody from B/B/ Ling, Louis Armstrong, Memphis Slim, John Lee Hooker, Muddy Waters, Lightning Hopkins, and more. They all came to Beale Street. I would go with some of the Trafalgar men like Bud or Dallas from club to club seeing different acts and, of course, having Bourbon and Coke or Seven and Seven. It seemed the more I drank the better the music sounded...

And, of course, the memory of the summer came from when Calvin and I were riding. He said let’s go get some belly. I didn’t know what belly was but it sounded good to me. Turned out to be sex. We’d go to one of the hand’s cabins and there would be no one there but some girls. I surely didn’t know what to do but Calvin did and as he mounted one of the girls he laughed and said follow me. I did and to my amazement, with a little help from a young lady who goes nameless at this time. It felt good at first, then real good, then extremely good then it was all over.

As we were riding back home Calvin said how did you like it? I said more. That was my stock answer all through life. How much is enough? More. We did more that summer. In fact we did a lot more during the next three years.

My last Saturday in Memphis before going home I got real drunk. Dad was out of town but Angel wasn’t and she was burning up the phone lines. She was telling my mother this and that. The phone rang and more this and that and I went to sleep. The next morning Will woke me up and told me I was in deep trouble. He had brought a plate of breakfast but when I smelled it I ran to the bathroom to throw up. He laughed and said something about wild women and cheap whiskey as he left the room. Actually Dad told Angel to let me be. “He’s just growing up”. I didn’t realize it would take a lifetime to do it.

Calvin brought the horses and Will fed me a big breakfast and gave some to Calvin out the back door. It was that kind of time. There were three restrooms in most places Men, Ladies and Colored. Also in the court house there were two drinking fountains, White and Colored. Strange, but true.

The most powerful man in Memphis at that time was Ed “Boss” Crump. I went with Dad to his office down by the River one day. Dad said he wanted to get me a driver’s license. Mr. Crump picked up the phone and told somebody we’d be by later to get a license. He asked if there was anything else he could do. Dad said it’s those damn drinking fountains. When we are in the field we all drink out of the same dipper and I haven’t caught anything from those colored folks yet. How about removing the third fountain, or send it to the museum? Mr Crump grumbled a bit but the next time we were in the court house there were only two drinking fountains. There were still three bathrooms though. Dad was pretty powerful too. He was Secretary of State of Tennessee at one time. I didn’t know it then but I had just witness the first act of desegregation in the South that day.

Back to business, Calvin said there were some new girls and all of them wand to do it with a white man. I obliged and then I obliged some more.

It was quite a summer. Dad and I went over to the Shelby County Penal Farm for the Dove Shoot. I had my favorite shotgun, a Browning Sweet 16 with the plug out allowing me to have five shells in the gun instead of three. Now Dad had taught me how to shoot and the result was I was damn good shot.

The inmates would keep the birds flying and Dad saw three birds flying our way. He said “Fifty dollars he’ll get the triple”. I did, I always did. I was good and proud of it. After all, I was a prince, Henry III.

Summer ended way too soon and the next thing I knew I was in the back seat of a Buick heading for home. I looked back over the summer. Lots of sex, lots of riding, some drinking but, all in all, a very good time. I rode up to the highest spot on the farm and knew that someday I would build my house up here. Life was good, but summer was over.

Back in Texas I was given a marijuana cigarette at the Country Club by a guy who worked in the Men’s Locker Room. It was better than whiskey by a mile. I asked can I get some more? He said bring $20 to my house tonight and I’ll get you some. He said tell Otis you owe me the money so he won’t be suspicious. I stole the money from Mother’s purse and asked Otis to take me to Crecy’s place so I could give him the money I owed him. When we got to the “Cut”, our answer to Harlem, I got out and walked up the outside stairs to a long hall with doors on both sides. The first door I knocked on was answered by a huge black man. All I could really see was teeth and eyes. He said Crecy was three doors down. When he answered and I gave him the money, he gave me a bundle the size of a football wrapped in newspaper. He said don’t tell Otis what you’ve got; say some golf shirts or something. I left with my prize and got in the car. As we drove down Alameda I heard a siren coming. As it got nearer I threw the bundle up front. I said, “Here Otis, take this dope” about that time an ambulance passed us. After Otis had whipped me like a red headed step child, he said that you can go to prison for life for this as he was spreading all my marijuana on the side of the road. As I look back on that incident I remember that some of my dope buys were better than that one.

That was my routine in those days, Texas for the school year, back to Tennessee for the summer. Life was sweet for a Prince in those days.

MY SISTER WS N ONLY CHILD 1937-1945

MY SISTER WAS AN ONLY CHILD
1937-1945
There Ain’t Gonna Be Any Mexicans In The Gillespie Family.

Along around March of ’37, it seems my Mom and Dad were at a fiesta down at a friend’s ranch north of Chihuahua, Mexico when Mom stated feeling me coming to the party.

Daddy who was in the Buick business, like his Dad before him, had a new 1937 Buick 4 Door Convertible. Daddy made a bed in the back for my mother and off we all went to the nearest American port of entry which was El Paso, Texas. Mom said it was a pretty fast but bumpy trip interspersed every few miles with Daddy shouting, ” There ain’t gonna be any Mexicans in the Gillespie family” I can’t attest to that as I was holding on for dear life. Mom said later that the three of us bounced into Texas without touching the Rio Grande. A local El Pasoite dodged the big Buick as Dad slammed to a stop with Daddy shouting, “Where’s the hospital, where’s the hospital”. We were directed to the Southwestern General Hospital and about an hour later I joined the family.

My family, as previously reported was in the Buick business. My Grandfather, Henry Carter Gillespie Sr., was Vice President of the Southern Region of Buick Motor Division of General Motors. He also owned a thousand acre farm in the Tennessee Delta. He was son of Henry Carter Gillespie. Who was my great grandfather, a Lt Colonel in the Fifth Tennessee Regiment during the War Between the States. By the way my real name is Henry Carter Gillespie III. It got pretty confusing when I had a son and he had a son ‘cause we all had the same name. Only the numbers were changed to protect the innocent, III, IV, and V. Back to the story. We, the Imperial we, I didn’t have much to do with it at the ripe old age of a week, or so, as we headed back to Corpus Christi, Texas and home at last.

I was raised in the lap of luxury in those days. It got better later, but I’ve just got to stop getting ahead of myself. My first words, I’ve been told, were to my criada, that’s Spanish for nurse, and they were, “Mas gallina ‘Upe”, meaning more of that chicken Lupe. We lived in a big house, maybe the biggest in town. Swimming pool and all that out at 722 North Tanchua St.. Things were nice in those days, as much as I can recall.

The next thing I knew our President, Franklin Roosevelt, were proclaiming Sunday, December 7th, 1941 as a Day of Infamy. Now at four years old I really didn’t know what infamy was or, for that matter what a Jap was but Daddy did and he up and joined the Navy on the following Tuesday. Mom cried at the train station and so did Nina my sister. She sort of came and went in my early life but we got to be pretty good friends when she was about 70. She finally gets the credit due her in the title of this book. After all, she was 13 years older than me and that was ancient to a four year old. Dad instructed me to be the Man of House while he was away winning the War. I did my best. I remember helping Mom do something with Ration Stamps and go with her out the Navy Base, out south of town, to swim while she bought stuff at the Ship’s Stores. Stuff you couldn’t buy at stores in town. Things like sugar, and cans of preserves, and my favorite, once a week was bacon. So many things happened during that war.

I was shipped me off that summer like every summer before. Our farm 20 miles northwest of Memphis, Tennessee, Trafalgar Farms it was named, and all thousand and eleven acres were promised to me by my grandfather, Dad. I called him Dad, everybody else called him Uncle Henry. I called his wife, my grandmother, Angel while everybody else called her Mama Dear. I told you it was confusing. But Dad was a radio junkie. We listened to Walter Winchell and R. Murrow broadcasting from London. We had a board on the wall with pins showing where the war was going. It was kind of dull but where was I to go at 6 years old and no driver’s license.

Compared to Trafalgar I was roughing it in Corpus Christi. The grown folks at the farm would have breakfast early, about 7 o’clock. Will, our cook and butler and gardener, would get me up at about nine or so with some Johnny cakes and bacon from our smoke house or something like that. I would go with Will on all sorts of adventures. We’d mow the back yard. I had my own lawnmower about two feet tall and rubber wheels and all. Then some days we’d mow the big front yard. I like that the best ‘cause Will would get one of the tractors and with blue smoke belching from the smoke stack and me riding behind Will, why I was in Hog Heaven. Will taught me a lot about life. I loved Will. Will was black but I didn’t know what that meant until later on.

Back to Texas for school and then back to Trafalgar for the summer and so it went. Those trips were enough to write a book about, but I’ll just hit some of the highlights.

On one trip my little Fox Terrier was run over. She was the first thing I can remember ever losing. It was a very strange and hurtful feeling.

There was rationing of almost everything in 1945. Otis, our driver knew of a little café somewhere in Mississippi where we could get some bacon. I had bacon and hot cakes and I can still taste that breakfast in my mind.

One of the things I remember was staying overnight in hotels as there were no Holiday Inns or Motel 6s. I can’t remember any of their names but they all had staff to load and unload our belongings. Otis had to go find a place were he could stay as no black folks were allowed to stay in any of these hotels. They could carry the luggage, get the ice, make the beds, but they couldn’t sleep in them. I asked Will and Stella Mae and Otis what was the reason they couldn’t stay. They told me that’s the way it is. That didn’t make it seem any better to me.

The War was grinding on and on my sixth birthday my father came back to Corpus Christi on leave. He found out that while he was away busy being the Flight Deck Officer on the USS Lake Champlain, an aircraft carrier, Mom had bought a new house out of town on Atlantic Street The Lake Champlain was christened in Norfolk Virginia. The family decided to drive back to Virginia for the christening. I had a bed made in the back with my sister and Mom and Dad were up front. It was neat to have him back and in his uniform, life was easy. I remember something about ration stamps and gasoline. Since we were both in the automobile business and in farming we were exempt from most of that rationing. This meant we could fill up the car when ever we wanted while most others were limited to only a few gallons at a time. Long and short of it was we went pretty much where we wanted, and we wanted to go to Norfolk. .It was getting clear to me that the Gillespie’s always got what they wanted.

That ship was huge. Daddy took me all around to see planes, under the deck, the guns,, his office, everything. And everywhere we went he got a salute and sometimes the sailors gave me one too.

As I have said, the Gillespie’s always got what they wanted and what they wanted now was to get me into school as soon as we got back to Texas. My life was about to change and change radically as I entered Mrs. Blasingame’s Day School. Kindergarten was where I learned to play well with others. That included pushing Bruce Easter off the slide and breaking his arm but also included sitting on a swing and having a girl stand up and “pump” to get the swing higher and higher. It also gave me a chance to peek up their skirts. Thank you Mrs. Blasingame, you got me started on a life off looking at women and even more later on. I also met two people who stayed in my life 50 or 60 years, Ron Boyd and Skipper Critz. Ron died a few years ago and Skip is in the contracting business in San Antonio the last I heard.

After Mrs. Blasigame’s Day School, I stated a real school. It was Menger School and I could walk to school. But I didn’t walk the first day. Mom had Otis drive me. Talk about embarrassed! He also came and got me after school. Three blocks from home and here’s Otis. But that wasn’t the only time I had a chauffer pick me up or take me to school. There’s more later.

At the end of the school year I was sent back to Tennessee. This time it was on an airplane. It was a DC-3 and the name on the plane was Delta Chicago and Southern. Man, what a trip. Being a young man of six, in fact the only young man of any age, I was treated royally by the stewardesses. I think the flight to Memphis took about seven hours but what ever the time, it was filled with little pilot’s wing, drinks, lunch, ice cream and those beautiful ladies serving me. One said I looked like a little prince.

Back at Trafalgar, Dad gave me my first rifle. I was told to shoot only crows and jay birds. Before the summer was out I was shooting everything but the hired hands. I remember going into Will’s room off the garage. It smelled different and I asked him what the smell was. He said it was him. I asked him could he get the black off his face. He said I’m white inside. I loved Will.

So that’s about the size of my first seven years. The war was over, Dad was home, I kept shunting between Texas and Tennessee, and I was beginning to feel more like a like a prince, after all my name was Henry III.