Leaving Home (1953-1956)

          College:  After graduating from Bonneville High School in the spring of 1953, I entered college at Utah State Agricultural College (USAC), as it was then called, in Logan, Utah. I had been awarded an athletic scholarship to play football for the "Aggies.” I was thoroughly intimidated by the program, its intensity, and the people who had been recruited from New Jersey, the U.S. Marines, and elsewhere to play football. Although I played fullback, I weighed a mere 170 pounds. As a member of the freshman football squad, I had the opportunity to be on the "hamburger squad” that is, I was given the weekly task of running the next week's opponents' play against the first string defense. I'd come a long way from high school hero to fourth string fullback on the freshman team. I quit. The fact that I quit haunted me for a long time, including a series of recurring dreams in which the coach yelled obscenities at me. The remainder of my first year in college was lost in frustration, lack of concentration, no valid goals, no money, and no car. I was miserable a good portion of the time and resolved to quit and join the army. I had belonged to AFROTC, but it bored me. I belonged to the symphony band, but was asked to play baritone because I was not good enough on the trumpet. I had a few friends; for example my cousin, Terry, who was my roommate most of the time. In general, however, the year was a near loss.

At about the time I was most seriously considering joining the army, the football coach from Ricks College heard I had quit Utah State, visited me, and offered a scholarship to play at Ricks. I understood my parents were very opposed to my joining the Army, so I accepted the offer from Ricks. I played football, but I was far from a standout. But the intensity was less and much more to my liking. The smaller college proved to be great deal of fun. I lived with former high school friends and began to unwind and participate in various activities. Despite the fact that I had had a devastating introduction to college track competition at Utah State, I went out for the track team. Again, I ran the 440 yard dash and didn't get beat until the conference championship – somehow I couldn't win the big ones. I also ran the 100-yard dash sufficiently well to place 2nd and 3rd in a couple of meets and I usually ran the anchor leg of the mile relay.

Yellowstone. After the year at Ricks College, I was employed for the summer as one-half of a two-man trail crew in Yellowstone National Park. Each of us had a horse, a mule, a power saw, and an axe. We were charged with clearing the previous winter's dead wood, as well as new spring growth, that threatened to impede the progress of fire fighters to any fire that might break out. I spent most of the summer in the wilderness south of Yellowstone Lake in almost total isolation from other people. This was enjoying nature at its best. I frequently observed deer, thousands of elk, several moose, bear, and other animals in their most natural state. Fishing was unbelievable.

For a while, my partner and I (I don't recall his name) linked up with another pair of men doing the same thing. One of the guys was from Waco, Texas and played football for Baylor. He would ride along on his horse, spitting tobacco as he rode. I thought this looked neat. So, for a brief time in my life, I chewed tobacco, spitting from astride my horse. Then the moment of truth arrived. We crossed Yellowstone Lake on a small boat and the wind came up and the boat began to rock. I was foolish enough to have a wad of tobacco in my mouth. It and everything else I had eaten for the previous twenty-four hours came retching out of my stomach and over the side of the boat. Never again in my life have I even considered chewing tobacco.

        Before moving south of Lake Yellowstone, we lived a few days in a cabin near the Lake Ranger Station. One evening I poured out some corned beef hash on the ground in back of the cabin. We spent the evening in the Lake lodge attending a program. When we got back to the cabin, I went behind the cabin to pee. I was greeted by a huge grizzly bear that reared up on his hind legs and roared at me. I was gone in a flash. The next day, however, we put out a trap and a day later, we had trapped the grizzly. We daubed a little white paint on him (so he could be recognized if he came back) and then hauled him way up into the mountains and let him loose. It was an experience I shall never forget. We had previously captured several black bears and hauled them off. Frequently, they came back and were then destroyed. But a grizzly was something quite different - awesome and fierce.