Dad's life from birth to marriage
Winter of 2002

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I am writing this because I want the future generations which can be attributed to me and Mom (assuming this lasts that long) to know why they do the things they do. It is not their fault. They are free to blame me for whatever shortcomings they may have but they can take credit for all the good things they accomplish which I am sure will be quite lengthy. The 1950s were probably the greatest decade that ever existed for the good old USA and I am happy to say that our heyday was right in the middle.

I was born at Great Grandma and Great Grandpa Ortner's (Grandma Barton's parents) house on 6 Jan. 1933 at about 5 am. (Always was an early riser). Great Grandpa and Great Grandma lived at the corner of Lakewood and Gravois facing Gravois. The house was across from New Mount Sinai cemetery and had a terrace about 3 feet high to the Gravois road. The house had a barn, and a chicken coop but was razed many years ago. So my memory is rather sketchy. At 11 months, I weighed 30 pounds which made Grandma Barton very proud --- fat was "in" during those days. She reminded me how cute I was at that weight until I was entering my double digit years.

At about 1.5 years old, we moved to 8017 Acorn Ave. in Gardenville off Heege road. We lived there for about 10 years. It was a neat 2 bedroom modest home with a porch running across the entire front of the house. The lot was wedge shaped with the wide part on the right when facing the property. An oversized one car plus detached garage was on the left side of the property. A fence separated our yard from the small truck farm behind us. The inside consisted of a living room, dining room, kitchen, master bedroom, my bedroom, one bath off the master bedroom and a screened side porch which was used for sleeping in the summer. The basement exit was beneath the porch. Only a half basement under the house with most of the space beneath being a crawl space. Scared the H --- out of me till we moved. We had a gravity furnace with a coal stoker installed by Grandpa. Worked well too except when it ran out of coal which was my job to keep filled. Grandma kept the house immaculate. Grandpa did a lot of work on the inside. He wallpapered all the rooms, installed a beautiful linoleum floor in the kitchen with an inlaid star in the exact center and a thin inlaid one inch wide line about one foot from the wall along the perimeter. He installed an old washer motor and a small two bladed propeller in the upper right rear of the kitchen at the ceiling to cool us while we ate. No conversation, and you had to keep the food from blowing away but you were cool at dinner in the summer (home air conditioners were not invented yet). Grandpa worked the swing shift for 38 years at Anheuser Busch. One week days: the next afternoons and the last nights. Both parents were very comfortable with this arrangement. Two weeks out of three Grandma was home with me in the evenings and she always listened to Lights Out, Inner Sanctum, and such ---- scared the dickens out of both of us but we listened faithfully week after week (television was not developed for home use yet-Thank You God).

Grandpa built a pen behind the garage with a trap door entrance for chickens etc. We had chickens , ducks, rabbits and mice. Grandpa made metal pans for the animals to swim and drink.
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He confiscated grain from AB to feed the animals. When grain was old or wet or damaged they discarded it and grandpa acquired it.
Grandma was happy to be a housewife and cooked fabulous meals for the big guy who scaled about 270 pounds off and on until I left home. Many Saturdays each month Grandpa, Grandma and I would go shopping to Cherokee street and/or on Gravois starting at Bates. Grandpa and I would sit in the car while grandma went from store to store up to and sometimes past Morganford Rd. and return. We played cards either War or Rummy or Seven and a half. 7 and a half was similar to blackjack with 8,9 and10s removed and picture cards counted one half. Grandma did a lot of sewing and mending and was a pretty good seamstress on the sewing machine. She made curtains, darned socks, fixed tears, etc, etc. Even made some of her own clothing.

I had the world by the tail. Empty lots all around our house. My friends and I would let our imagination run wild. We played war, Cowboys and Indians, dug underground lairs, made traps in the woods, built forts, climbed huge oak trees, stole fruit from peoples trees, made bows and arrows, and spears out of holly hocks and other straight weeds, made racers and carts, played ball, smoked cigarettes, weeds, string and leaves. Even bought a pack of Marvels cigarettes for a dime from time to time. We were caught smoking by one of our friends Dad once and had to supply him with comic books for a time or he would tell our parents. We were about as much Huckleberry Finn as you could get. Never serious trouble but trouble nonetheless.

In the summer when I was very young, Grandma would heat water and put a washtub out in the yard, fill it with tepid water and let me splash around till I emptied the tub. Served two purposes --- kept me at bay and watered the yard. On a warm evening when Grandpa was home, they would decide to take a ride or go to the movie which were advertised as 20 degrees cooler—as I said, there were no home air conditioners at that time. If we took a ride, Grandma would spell ice cream and I of course knew what that meant and we would stop at Velvet Freeze at Gravois and Weber road. We would ride down Gravois or Highway 21, eating our ice cream, to the far reaches of Jefferson county and sometimes down Rock Creek road where Grandpa is buried in St. John's cemetery.

Winter brought more fun. Steep hills and little traveled streets allowed us to build snowmen, ride sleds, build elaborate snow forts with a cache of snowballs ready for the attack that was sure to come from a neighboring fort. Many of the older neighbors had a front row seat to all of this carrying on and provided us with hot chocolate and cookies from time to time. Needless to say these were great days—no one settled our arguments for us—if we disagreed we had a fight and it was settled. No weapons or any parental help. When the fight was over the play began again.
In the summer, we played ball on Hilda Ave, the street on the other side of the empty lot across from our house. We played scrub, Indian ball, bottlecaps and corkball. All organized and run by us. No help from anyone and it was great. About the age of 8, grandpa offered me 50 cents for the school picnic if I mowed the lawn. Big mistake, because the lawn was mine until I left for college. And our lawn on Acorn was huge. Grandpa cleared the rear three-fourths of the lot on our right side next to ours and put the rear half into a fenced garden with all kinds of vegetables and the front half into a yard for me to mow. (They used to 'can' and make preserves etc. The whole garden was tilled by hand). The lawnmower was the old type mower that you see in museums today. The mower consisted of 5 or 6 blades in the shape of a horizontal cylinder with a wheel on either end connected to a T-shaped wooden push assembly.
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Power was provided by the pushee-ie. me. Grandpa would tell me to mow and I would not, he would tell me the next day and I would not. This went on till I got the ultimatum and the fear that god would descend on me. Stupid -- had I mowed it the first time it would not have taken three times as long and ten times the effort. Plus I had to rake if it was really bad. This went on until I went to college. Some people have a torturous learning curve.
Uncle Dave was born on 5 Jan 1943 and it was a great day in the Barton household, Grandpa and Grandma had someone to spoil and at the same time correct the mistakes they made with me. I had someone to tease and torment --- but love and cherish as my very own brother. But this story is about me but I don't want Uncle Dave to be a footnote in this so there will be more about him later.
At the end of World War II some homes were 'for sale' and Grandma wanted to move to a "better" house. One came available at 5205 Heege road right next to New St. Marcus Cemetery. There was an 8 foot high chain link fence along the right side of the house with the best neighbors you could ask for. No graves could be located within several hundred feet of a dwelling so we had a vast expanse of grassland to do our thing. The lot was much smaller than the lot on Acorn but it had about a 4 foot terrace in the front and a detached garage that had to be entered from Wolz avenue through an alley. Three identical houses were built by the Wolz brothers around the turn of the century. All of the structural wood was oak. Funny thing about oak --- it tends to act like iron when it ages. The house was a two story with a barn style slate roof and a concrete front porch that ran the width of the house. Inside there were two bedrooms and a bath on the second floor. The master bedroom was in the rear. It was very large and had a beautiful fireplace in it. The front bedroom was mine. It was good size and had a large walk-in closet. Downstairs was a living room, dining room, large entry with the stairway to the second floor and a large kitchen.

Grandpa and Grandma sold and moved from the house on Acorn before they could take possession of the house on Heege. We moved into a very small cabin styled dwelling behind a neighbor's house on Acorn for about 3 or 4 months. I can't recall much about that experience because it didn't change my lifestyle one bit. Finally the big day came and we moved to Heege. Grandpa got all his buddies from work and they moved using trucks, cars and whatever --- after all we were only moving a few blocks. It is funny what you recall --- Grandpa had a buddy named Bill the oiler. Bill was a pipe smoker and had a very slow personality-ie he was slow when he was rushing. Always had the pipe in his mouth. Very nice man. During the move all the guys were standing around having a beer when a stray dog singled out Bill -raised his leg and used Bill's leg for a toilet. He was called fireplug for a few weeks after that incident.
It didn't take long before Grandpa was rebuilding the house. Fireplaces came out of the Master bedroom and dining room, the huge oak sliding doors separating the living room and the hall and the living room and dining room were replaced by arches. My job was to remove the nails from the oak wood --- impossible, and chip the mortar from the bricks. A half bath appeared between the kitchen and the hallway. (it was where I had to brush my teeth because Grandma wanted to make sure it got done) And, of course, the stoker was added --- Grandpa didn't want me to forget how to shovel. Grandpa built a chimney on the left side of the house that must be 30 feet high. I moved all the brick to the work site. A screened in porch was added in the rear as was a white picket fence around the back yard.
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About this time, Uncle Tony, Grandma's brother, gave me a wire haired terrier for a pet. Tippy was both a joy and a penance. She used to love to sit in the open sewers that were prevalent in the neighborhood and then come home smelling like you know what. Another bath and another cooling off period. She was smart. She also loved to chase the cat and ride with me in the basket I had attached to the handlebars of my bike. We had a large Lilac bush in the backyard and the dog would chase the cat who would head for the bush and crawl through. Tippy would jump in and then have to be rescued because she would get caught in the branches. Maybe she wasn't so smart. One of the fine times I had during these years was to put some rags in my bike basket and put Tippy in the basket and take off riding. We would ride for miles. Tippy wouldn't move but just lay there with her tongue out and her tail stub wagging. Bad times came as Tippy contracted mange from somewhere. I would get pine tar oil, bathe her several times a week and soak her in pine tar oil. She would immediately rub herself in the grass to get rid of the oil and run to the sewers, if I didn't catch her, to wash it off. This went on for months with many tears shed by me till at last she was mange free. She was my great animal friend. She lived to a ripe old age after I left home. Uncle Dave took care of her.
Summers were great—did the same thing we did when we were younger just on a grander scale. The forts were bigger, traps more elaborate, the games more skilled and the territory larger. Played CYC soccer, and baseball. Grandpa or Grandma never saw a game nor did any of the other parents. Same fights, more cussing more threats but the same result. Fights over lets play!! One summer we organized a corkball league at church and played on the school grounds. Kept all the important statistics and had regular games several times a week. This went for several years till other things got in the way.
Winters also the same except I discovered that sled riding is better with a very small sled. So I bought a 28 inch sled which was interesting because most of me hung over the sled but I was very fast and won all of the races except when some idiot grabbed my runners as I went by.

I began to set pin at the bowling alley at St. George's church at age twelve to make some private spending money. I would set double alley for 10 cent a line and could make $2.50 in a couple of hours plus tips all tax free. For tournaments you worked 4 to 6 hours and always got a good tip from the winners. You could take home 12 to 15 bucks. Not too shabby for a bare teenager 55 years ago. Plus the job was only few blocks from home. Also I got the bug to caddy at Sunset Hills Country Club. Better surroundings, some better people. Always enjoyed an old Doctor who hit the ball down the middle and always gave a big tip. Tried to hide from a couple of others who complained about everything, couldn't hit a straight ball and gave poor tips. These guys were well known and only the new caddies got them. The golfers never did figure out why the caddies were not very good --- they matched the golfers.
Professional baseball games were free to knothole club holders. You could get a card from nearly any store. So we would walk down to the carline at Hampton Avenue and Gravois, catch a trolley or bus to Grand avenue, take a trolley to Dodier where the Cardinals and Browns played (Browns moved to Baltimore to become the Orioles) in Sportsman's park. I decided to sell soda at the ballpark and this is where I had my first experience with a crazy person. About the second year of selling, I was late getting out, it was afternoon, (pro ballgames seldom lasted more than 2 hours) I and was waiting for the trolley to return home when a man pulls up a asks if I want a ride. Heck yes!! I was too stupid to suspect something when he said I would have to get in on the driver's side.
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 He asked where I was going and I told him to the county and he said he would take me there. Still no light in my head. He made several stupid statements but the light was still out. When we got to Gravois and Heege, the light was flickering and I said I wanted out there and tried to escape through the passenger side but there were no handles for the window or door. I was about to start yelling when he said to crawl over him and get out. Except for a brief embrace by the weirdo when I crawled over him I was let out. I ran home the back way where there were just yards etc, no streets and discovered no one was home. I got the hidden key, went in, went upstairs, loaded grandpa's shotgun, went into my room and looked out the window at Heege road. Yes Virginia, I would have shot.

I was a little chubby at this time and earned the nickname 'butterball' which went to 'booner' as I thinned out and finally to 'boone' to my close friends. I kept this name till high school. I was an excellent student in grade school, averaging in the mid nineties for the average of all grades while in school. Letter grades were not in vogue, the average of your tests and classroom responses constituted a percentage number grade. My report card was liberally sprinkled with 100% in certain subjects like reading --- mainly because I was the reader in the morning Masses which the entire school attended. I was also server 'par excellent'. I served 5:30 am mass every Sunday for several years and 6am mass during the week for a similar period so my religion grades were 100%. On occasion I would get 100% in other classes also. Report cards were given each month. In spite of my good grades in subjects that count, Grandpa focused on one --- conduct. I was always a little wise acre in school and the result was 60s or at best 70s in conduct which really irritated my parents. (conduct was not averaged with class subjects). Punishment was severe and rapid depending on how poor my grade was for that month. Nothing life threatening although I believed it was close at times. Grade school was great.

We used to visit Great Grandma/Grandpa Barton nearly every Sunday and had a great chicken dinner about 5pm followed by Great Grandpa and his sons playing pinochle promptly at 6pm. They had a small farm at the intersection of Highway 30 and Highway 141 where the Dierbergs mall is located. The farmhouse was where new Highway 30 is located just above the old cemetery on old Gravois road behind Gravois Bluff mall. During the day, the men would sit outside with rifles and shoot chippies which Great Grandpa thought did a lot of damage. Over the years, the hay hauler support beam at the front of the barn was shot away. A great uncle of yours discovered bird shot for 22 rifles and became an excellent shot, shooting chippies while they were flying. This drove great Grandpa nuts for a long time till he found out about the bird shot. When I turned thirteen, I was allowed to go on the annual rabbit hunting excursion every Thanksgiving Day. We would rise at 4am and be on the road by 5am driving to Mexico or Cuba Mo. To hunt on large farm lands. We would shoot 100 rabbits (before limits were imposed) and return home by nightfall to eat and clean the game. By midnight we were done. What Fun? Great Grandpa owned some land off Corisande Beach road and had dredged two sections about 200 feet wide and one eight mile long each. They were about 4 to 6 feet deep. Each year when the Meramec River flooded, the two "ponds" would fill with fish. Great Grandpa would put eight 55 gallon drums on his dump truck half filled with water. The ponds were seined and we filled the rest of the drums with fish. Grandpa would take his share and we would go home and start cleaning fish. Grandpa hung a light near the detached garage we had at the Heege road address and him and I would clean fish. We threw the heads and entrails over the fence in the cemetery. This would go on most of the night. When we started there was nothing on the cemetery side of the fence then we noticed a couple of pairs of yellow eyes and finally there was a whole crowd of eyes in the cemetery eating their fill. Cats and raccoons and whatever. So much for fishing and hunting for me. It was the best of times though. The other thing Grandpa and I did was trout line fishing just south of the bridge over the Meramec on old Gravois road. We would set out the lines, come back hours later and see what we caught. Fish and turtles. That is when I learned to enjoy turtle soup. Can't get it that way anymore. They didn't have television but what they had was far superior --- they entertained themselves and I am happy I was part of it.
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High school selection was made by grandma, she was determined that I go to a good school because I was college bound period-end of discussion. There were several Catholic High Schools in the south/central part of the city. St John the Baptist, South Side (which became St. Mary's), St Louis U High and CBC. When Grandma saw the uniforms on CBC that was it. No other place would do. So I entered CBC. It was a great experience. Standing inspection every morning, shined shoes, polished brass, good haircut. I went out for football but never amounted too much --- too slow. I was really cannon fodder for the other players. I stuck it out till I got a job at Weiss's drugstore in my 15th year. I wanted a car when I was 16 and needed to save money. I worked after school from 4 to 9 everyday, from 10 to 6 on Saturdays and 10 to noon on Sundays. Weiss's was located at Gravois and Seibert close to St George's and my old stomping grounds. I really enjoyed my time at the drugstore. I made 25 cents an hour and still set pins or caddied on Sunday afternoons. I made $9.00 a week at the drugstore which was raised to 50 cents per hour. Grandpa said save $100 and we will get a car. I went into high intensity save mode and got the 100 pretty quickly. I was averaging about 20 bucks a week which is not bad. In the meantime I turned 16 and went to the Phillips 66 service station across from the drugstore, gave them my 50 cents and obtained my drivers license.

Grandpa started looking in the newspaper and found a 1937 Chevie 4 door sedan. It had hydraulic brakes which Grandma insisted upon. The car had 4 brand new tires and a busted right front wheel bearing. It was located in North St. Louis. Grandpa drove it home with me following in his car. We could only do 15 or 20 mph. The right front fender was severely dented. We banged out the dent, smoothed it over and grandpa spray painted the car with black lacquer. Lacquer must be sanded after each coat. We didn't do that. I got my buddies over and we did a crummy job of sanding but we were ready to rumble. And rumble we did, the car had no power but it stopped well and leaked so much oil out of the knee action front shocks that I used to go to service stations and get their old oil for replacement. Had lots of fun-threw out second gear speed shifting -- out to Murphy's junkyard on West Watson and Lindbergh for a transmission. Could not get the old transmission off the spline and after several days asked Grandpa for help. He grumbled about it but went out to the garage and after several minutes and the sound of loud banging, interspersed with colorful language --- (He was convinced that a few well placed words of encouragement helped mechanical things to listen intently) -- he was back in the house and the old transmission was laying on the ground. The next episode concerned a small log through the radiator and a broken front bumper. I managed that repair by myself after my mandatory trip to Murphy's. I was such a good customer of Murphy that he knew me by name and one day offered to sell me his pride and joy. The only vehicle parked in a garage. A 1937 (I think) supercharged Cord. It was front wheel drive car with electric shifting. A convertible with white sidewall tires and chrome pipes coming out of the engine area and down into the front fenders. WOW. No dice at home. Grandpa thought front wheel drives were dangerous --- they probably were at that time. I drove the old Chevy till I entered college. It was a good car and got me to and from school and about town.
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Somewhere in this time frame, Grandpa obtained a 1941 Plymouth in outstanding condition. It was a dark maroon and had nary a scratch on it. One day I decided to wash the engine to get rid of the grease and debris. Back in those days the electrical system was not waterproof. I managed to get water in the distributor and fouled the ignition system. I tried to start the car using the battery until the battery went dead. With stick shift cars, it was no problem, just get the car rolling in neutral, hop in depress the clutch, put the car in gear and let the clutch pop out. The engine turned over and the car started. If it didn't you just repeated the procedure until it did. I repeated the procedure until I went all the way down Heege road (our house was on a hill) without starting the car. Now I was in trouble but I had a solution. I would get Grandpa's car and push the Plymouth back to our house. Remember to get to our garage you had to go down Wolz avenue—so that meant you had to make a left off Heege Road and a right to our alleyway. I had half of the plan worked out, I just needed a driver. Uncle Dave who was 6 or 7 at the time, I can't remember which, sounded like the perfect solution. I wouldn't have to display my stupidity and nobody would be the wiser. I put Uncle Dave in the front seat --- he had to stand so he could see over the steering wheel. I explained how to slip down off the seat and apply the brakes. He was eager, I was his big brother. We made arrangements on when he should stop and how to turn. I put grandpa's car behind the Plymouth and began to push. All went well. We stopped just short of Wolz avenue. I explained the turn procedure and we proceeded. He began the turn but was not fast enough and ran into a telephone pole. I forgot that he was not big enough to manhandle a non-powered steering wheel and did the best he could. Back out to Murphy's to get a bumper. Thank goodness he had one. I replaced it quickly and disposed of the damaged bumper. I had to tell grandpa because he might find out. He was chagrined about the bumper but shrugged it off until he found out who was the driver. I won't describe the things that hit the fan but I am still alive. I learned this lesson "Never let your 6/7 year old brother drive until he can demonstrate that he can make a turn"
Girls never entered my mind I was too busy doing my thing and since there were no girls at school there was no one to show off for.

I was in the upper third of my class and was on the B-honor roll often and the A-honor roll sometimes. I never participated in school activities since I worked to support my car and other foolishness. I was promoted to 2nd lieutenant in my senior year --- don't ask me why or how because I do not know. Anyway I was now an officer and had the privilege of inspecting the others in the morning inspections and I gave out demerits for those who were not dressed to code. It was great fun especially the freshmen. I went to all the proms and dances but for the life of me can't remember the names of any of the princesses that accompanied me.

I took a test my senior year to discover what I would be best suited for in college. Grandma and I were told that I was not college material. My test results were not good. Grandpa offered to get me a job at the brewery but grandma would have none of that --- I was going to college period -end of discussion. And that college was the University of Missouri, Columbia. Grandpa got me a summer job at the brewery cleaning 40 boxes (refrigerators used at the time to keep beer at 40 degrees F). I made a good income but worked my tail off. I spent all my summers working at the brewery --- one year in the office drawing curves of beer production ---- boring, the remaining years in the laboratories testing the beer production to make sure the beer was up to standard --- we had the authority to shut down production if we detected a serious problem. One summer a water main broke and I shut down when we were planning and had the pleasure of waking the bosses at 3 am to come down and see the mess. I worked different shifts each year but enjoyed the midnight shift most because it gave me all day to do my thing. Since I sold my car when I entered college and was not allowed a car in college. I bought an old Cushman motor scooter and had the most fun with my little putt-putt. It took me everywhere—to work, to the old swimming hole, around town.
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I started college in the fall of 1951. My roommate was a friend of mine from grade school and we both had similar backgrounds and family histories. I thought law would be the thing for me and entered pre-law --- taking a bunch of useless courses it turned out. I also joined the R.O.T.C. (reserve officers training corps). They paid a small stipend each month --- which was good. After my first semester I discovered that I was draft material, the Korean War was in full swing and anyone over 18 was going into the service. The ROTC officers had a meeting with us to explain that we were not exempted from the draft just because we were in ROTC. We asked what it took to get a deferment and were told we had to be in engineering, physics or medicine. I decided to go into engineering since I couldn't stand the sight of blood and did not have a bowel problem. I was not sure of the engineering field I wanted to pursue—but it was not chemical or civil because I smelled enough chemicals when I took chemistry in high school and mixed enough concrete when I worked with Great Grandpa Barton. Therefore it was a tossup between mechanical and electrical. I had some mechanical background because I worked on cars etc. but I knew nothing about electrical. So I decided to toss a coin and go into mech or elect depending on the results of the toss. Electrical it was. So I entered electrical engineering and got my scholastic deferment and entered pilot training in ROTC. I basically wasted my first semester because engineering would not accept most of the classes. In those days you had to carry 18 hours to graduate on time from engineering and take ROTC. You also had to take phys ed. I joined the tennis class and was teamed with a left hander and together we went on to win the intramural doubles championship. He was really good and I barely held my own but it was good enough.


Nearly all classes in engineering were required --- there was no room for choice. Therefore I could not make up the first semester very well and needed 8 hours to graduate when my normal 4 year term ended. So I stayed another semester and took a full load which was really fun because most of the courses I took were what I wanted to take and that was a whole new experience for me. Two summer before I graduated, I went to Perrin Air Force, base in Texas for a month long training program before we were made officers in the U S Air Force. I hitch hiked down and back --- it was safe in those days. I received the bad news that I had a heart murmur and could not be a pilot but that they would make an exception and permit me to enter in engineering. The rules at the time permitted a person to go from group 3-administrative to group 2 engineering to group la bombardier/navigator to group 1 pilot but not the other direction. The military was sadly in need of engineers, to this day I believe that they washed me out because I was an engineer and for no other reason. When I subsequently took a test for the army --- they could not find a problem and I was 1A ie. Prime meat for the service.
My first two years in college were not a stellar performance. In fact I was barely at a GPA of 2.00, but I had a lot of fun. I am going to relate three little incidents which defined my freshman and sophomore years:
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The underwear episode: One night while returning from the beer bars, we happened past the girls gym and someone thought it would be a great idea if we hung a pair of underwear from me nagpore. wnie in the process, a security guard was sporcu manuig ms early morning rounds and I was fortunate enough to think fast and deposit a 50 cent piece on the ground, put my foot on it and told the guard we were looking for a coin I had dropped. He took a cursory look and departed. We hung the flag and waited to see the furor in the papers. Nothing happened. It turns out underwear hanging in front of the girls gym was a regular occurrence.

The toilet paper episode: Many of the guys from St. Louis joined a fraternity called delta-tau-delta. Once again returning from a beer drinking binge, we decide to leave a calling card at the frat house. This time it was only my roommate and myself. No one locked doors in those days so we slipped into the house, found toilet paper, and proceeded to drape the paper over every single resident. Nobody woke up. To this day I don't think they ever found out who did but there was a huge frat investigation and accusations flew all over. The fraternities were accusing each other for this embarrassing situation much to our delight.

The put out the fire episode: My roommate and I decided to join the Catholic fraternity and pledged in the fall of 52. During hell week the pledges were required to crawl on their hands and knees to the second floor bathroom, fill their mouths with water, and crawl down to the first floor fireplace and spit water on a roaring fire. Then do it again until the fire went out. We did it a couple of times and decided it was enough. A fight broke out it was my roommate and myself against the rest. We did pretty well but we were thrown out, but not without leaving marks on a few guys. We went back to the dorm and the frat spent the next two years trying to get us back. No way !!
There were numerous other incidents that occurred during those first two years—enough to write a book but nobody would believe what we did. My roommate was a gymnast and had weights in his room to keep himself in shape. I used them also and finally got up to 20 arm curls with 100 pounds. Needless to say I was in good shape also. My roommate got caught in some foolishness and was kicked out of the dorm. I went to the dean of men to defend him and the dean pulled out files on the both of us that would choke a horse. I think that was a wake up call for me and I settled down.

My last two years were different, My grades improved remarkably from a barely 2.00 to a 3+ the last two years. Of the 39 guys who were freshman with me only 13 graduated in electrical engineering. A little aside, -- In my sophomore year, I was taking differential calculus and was doing poorly. One day I received a phone call from Grandpa to come home immediately. Now grandpa never called and he would not say why I should hurry home since it was in the middle of the week. So I had all kind of wild thoughts. So I got a ride to the highway and proceeded to hitch hike (It was safe to hitch hike in those days --- no nuts in the world) --- it took several rides and quite a few hours to get home but I made it at dusk. I walked in and Grandpa showed me a piece of paper from school that indicated I was flunking calculus. He told me clearly that that is not going to happen and to get back to school and study. (He Probably had a file on me also). I was home for 15 minutes. So I left the house and hitch hiked back to school --- I got an S in calculus. (We had E,S,M,I,F for grades which is equivalent to A,B,C,D,F today). Fear does wonders to your level of concentration.
We had a genuine genius in our class --- a brilliant mind with no social graces at all. He never came to class—rule was if you didn't show up for three classes in row you were dropped from class. He was always being reinstated until the prof decided I would tell him when there was a test. I was elected because I was his closest friend and pool partner. I would tell him about a test he would show up take the test get 100% and not show up till the next test.
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He had joined the Navy out of high school and they immediately saw he was brilliant and permitted him to leave the Navy, they would pay for his schooling with no strings attached. At least that is what he told me-It must be true because he went to work in business upon graduation and did not return to the Navy. In fact both of us went to California. One other incident that stands out in my mind, in those days sophisticated radar was still in its infancy and it required empirical methods to obtain the proper shaping of the RF bridge to obtain azimuth, elevation and range from a single radar pulse. Our genius was given the job to determine how to get these important numbers mathematically. He did so but quit shortly thereafter and went home to work on the farm. The company tried his solution and it worked. They could not decipher his hand writing, only the answer. He never started a sentence in the middle of a page. Always at the left side and he wrote very large. If a sentence did not end at the right side, he rotated the paper 90 degrees and continued writing, if it did not end at the bottom he did the same proceeding in a rectangle until the sentence was completed. This coupled with the large size made it almost impossible to figure out what he wrote, however his answers were always very clear. The company invited him back for an enormous sum of money but he did not want the money. They finally contacted me and I talked him into returning so he could translate his paper for a stenographer. He did and went back to the farm-- that is the last I ever heard of him.

I quit work three weeks before my last semester, because I had enough money to finish school and decide to take it easy for a while. One morning I was talking to Grandma and said I thought I would hitch hike to California and she called my bluff by offering to take me to the overpass at Lindbergh and Highway 66 (now called Watson). There wasn't Interstate 44 at that time -so 66 it was) I packed a bag, grabbed 60 bucks and Grandma drove me to the overpass. I got out of the car, stuck my finger out and the first car that came by was a mercury convertible from Indiana on his way to California after a short leave from the service. He took me all the way to San Bernardino where I got out of the car stuck my finger out and got picked up by a guy just returning from Santa Clara University where he signed up for his senior year classes. He took me to 5th and Hope in LA where the YMCA is located and then returned for party after party. I had a living ball for 10 days until I got very low on money and decided it was time to return home. I walked down to the San Bernardino freeway and started to hitch hike -big mistake-a California Highway patrol picked me up and informed me that hitch hiking was not allowed on freeways. He decided to drive me out a few miles where it was OK. I caught a ride with a guy in an Oldsmobile 98 who was on his way back to Iowa because his Dad died. We probably averaged 100 mph. We stopped in Needles. Ca. for him to get a beer and I decided I would rather find another ride. I saw a young guy eating a sandwich and asked him where he was going. He was on his way to --- you guessed it-Indiana and going right through St Louis.

He had a sports car, a Sunbeam Alpine, and was going home on leave from the Army. We tooled along OK until we were just outside of Albuquerque when the car just quit. It was night so we just slept in the car. The next Morning he got a ride into town while I watched the car etc. He came back with a tow truck and we were towed into town. This was almost 50 years ago and Albuquerque was a one horse town in the middle of the desert. They did not have parts for a foreign car but the were handy and were able to make a temporary repair and we were off again. I arrived at Watson and Mackenzie with a thin dime in my pocket. I called a friend-pay phones were a dime. And he took me home. Had a fabulous time. Something that could not be done the same way today or in the future. I am sure.

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I accepted a job in California and went out to buy a car. It was early in 1956 and I wanted a new car to begin a new life. There were some new left over 55's and I started looking. I settled on a Ford and Grandpa told me what I should pay for it. I negotiated like the dickens but couldn't get to his number and settled for $1600 for a fire engine red Ford Customline. Grandpa sounded unhappy but down deep I think he was pleased that I missed his number by only $100. And hell I was paying for it.

The California job was only going to be temporary because when my friend graduated from college we were going to Brazil to make our fortune in the diamond fields or I was going to accept a job with Dupont in New Jersey after I got California out of my system. A total of four guys from my graduating classes went to California. Three of us lived together (not the genius-he was too messy) across the street from Hollywood Park race track on Imperial highway in what was called Inglewood Ca. While the three of us were together, we did all the dumb things that youth causes you to do. Like swim in the ocean in February - not so bad if we knew that swimming near the Hyperion water treatment plant was a no no . Hyperion is a sewerage treatment plant and they used to dump effluent in the ocean. Later we found out what those things were that floated near us. After two months one was called in the service to fulfill his commitment and the other got homesick and returned to midstate Missouri. I had to move and found an apartment with a garage for the red rocket. The apartment was on 104th place near Western Ave. in Los Angeles. I stayed there till I married MOM.

I worked at North American Aviation at the corner of Aviation Blvd. and Imperial Highway. I worked on design of a new fighter aircraft on the Inertial Navigation system. Next to me was a guy who kept trying to get me to go to a YCW meeting (Young Christian Workers) but I kept putting him off. Finally he said there was a girl there that was cute and I would probably like. I thought what the heck and I and another guy went to the meeting at St Raphael's Parish hall at Vermont and 68th street in LA. Lo and behold he was right. There sat the future Mrs. B, I was immediately attracted to her but had to maintain my macho image and we only stayed for a short time. I next saw her at a party and was impressed by the fact that each time I saw her she had a beer in her hand. Later in the evening, they ran out of beer and I asked her if I could take a swig of hers. She said OK --- It was the first time I ever drank beer that was 98.6 F. The future Mom was not a drinker. The next party was the beginning of an everlasting love affair. The YCW was a partying bunch and Catholic to boot. I was talking to the future Mom when she mentioned that she was having trouble with her car and I said I would take a look at it. So we went outside to look at her muffler-much to the chagrin of her many admirers who asked where we were going. We stayed outside and talked for a long while before we decided to return and participate. I confiscated the future Mom and danced the night away. I asked her to go on a drive up the coast to Santa Barbara with me and she said OK as long as I got her back by 6pm in time for her date. He was taking her to an early preseason professional football game between the LA Rams and some other team. (they used to be in Los Angeles before moving to St. Louis) We had a great day and I was in love. Unfortunately (wink, wink) we got caught in traffic and could not make it back in time for the game --- cutting out one of the competition. From then on it was wild and wooly I had found the girl I wanted-Catholic, similar background, beautiful, demure, bright eyed and in love with life and wanted to be a MOM. No wonder I have never hit the jackpot since I met her-she was the jackpot. Mom's parents moved to California -Grandpa worked for a company that was opening a new plant in LA and they wanted Grandpa to be superintendent.

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I asked Mom to marry me and we set a date after I discovered that our anniversary would fall in Lent every 11 years. We set Feb 9 1957 as the big day. I informed Grandma and Grandpa Barton of our plans and they seemed happy if a bit reluctant since they hadn't met her. We were married at St Raphael's parish on 68th and Vermont on the appointed day. Grandma Barton was there Grandpa didn't make it. We had a great little party in a hall. I supplied the music from my High Fi (stereo wasn't invented yet). And we danced a few, ate, cut the cake and disappeared. We honeymooned at Big Bear mountain in the San Bernardino mountains.

Mom worked at Metro Goldwyn Mayer movie studios. She started work an hour later than I and got home at least two hours after me. That lasted two weeks when I asked her to quit. She agreed and became a stay-at-home wife. We had rented one side of a duplex and had been there about 2 months when the owner informed us that we would have to move, he was bringing in his sister. Shortly thereafter, I woke up on a Sat. and was looking for a place to stay and saw one on 66th street that looked good I called the owner and viewed the place and rented it. I came back to the duplex and told Mom to pack. We moved that day to 1313 west 66th, and lived there three years while we had children and saved to buy a house. In 1960 we moved to our first house on 5122 Maricopa Street in Torrance Ca. All of you were born at Daniel Freeman hospital in Inglewood Ca. The Doctor was Dr. Anz. He never had children and offered to take the last two off our hands but of course we refused. That sums up all that I planned for this missive. You guys were old enough to remember Maricopa and our move to St. Louis (except Stacy who was only one and a half at the time).
That my Darling daughters is a condensed version of the life of your father. A life I am happy to be a large part of and ecstatic that each of you entered it when you did.
I know this much. I have been blessed by God to have a special person for a spouse and five beautiful and gracious daughters to call my own.
Love Dad