School Days Read online

  I asked, “How much am I making?”

  “Twenty five thousand dollars plus residuals, though we don’t think there will be that much, it will just go on TV once.”

  Much later he was proven so wrong in that statement. Since it was a first of a kind effort it was used many times over in cinematic classrooms, also Mr. Evans mustn’t have heard of ‘Reruns’ on TV.

  Mayor North approached me.

  “I am Master of Ceremonies for today. We will show the movie, then I will introduce you, there will be two awards today, from the City of Bellefontaine you will be given an ‘Outstanding Citizen’ award, it is a plaque. Logan County will present their Outstanding Athletic award, you will say a few words of thanks, and that will be it.”

  ‘Live with it, Live with it,’ I thought.

  “Okay, sounds easy enough.”

  Mayor North gave me a sharp look at that.

  The movie started with a scene of a young man hitch hiking, it had to be a stand in for me. The narrator explained that the Ricky Jackson story started with a summer trip. They show a fast montage of rides across the country with upbeat music in the background, just a kid out having a little adventure. Then the announcer dropped his voice and told us things turned serious.

  Next appeared wanted posters for the Johnson Brothers, John and Ernest. They were wanted ‘Dead or Alive’ for nine bank robberies in three states. They had killed six people and wounded four. There was an outstanding reward of twenty five thousand dollars.

  Then there was a reenactment of the robbery and me shooting the two bad guys. Next was an interview with Mr. Easterly about the locals’ reaction to the robbery and then transitioned into bull riding. They used stock footage for the local fairs I rode in.

  After that was the Spin and Marty show, you could hear the laughter out front when I was thrown in the horse trough. Then they had a brief interview with Annette where she told how cute I was, and that I still owed her a kiss.

  Eat your heart out guys!

  From there it was on to the movie, “It Never Happened.” They showed extended footage of me dragged by the horse. John Wayne then appeared and told how I could fall off a horse better than anyone he knew! He also added that I was hard worker on the set and knew how to ride, shoot and rope with the best of them.

  I have never held a lariat in my life. It must be the movies.

  Then I was really surprised, there was an appearance by Elvis. He was in his Army uniform in Germany. He thanked me for helping him out with a little problem down in Mexico, and that allowed him to serve his country.

  “Thank you Ricky, maybe we could do a duet someday.”

  From there it went up to an oil rig and they showed out takes, in the movie if you blinked you would miss me, here it looked like I had a role. They had some footage of me without a shirt on, I was tanned and fit. It really highlighted my black hair and blue eyes. Someone with the camera must have liked me that day because they had some shots that made me good looking.

  Hmm, they were all male cameramen, no don’t think about it.

  Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys told how they had a fun song for a young cowboy, and how I rode in with John Wayne. The next thing you know there was a gold record. Of course they had to play the song.

  Texas Ranger Walker appeared all dressed up for a change. I remember him as jeans, and pearl button shirts. He still had the shirt but now it was a good suit and white hat. His badge was pinned to the suit pocket. He told about the rustling gang and had mug shots of the three rustlers that were captured along with their ring leader. They had reenacted me drawing down with my Colt 45 peacemakers on the bad guys. The reward was eighty five thousand dollars.

  Two of the rustlers got away, but they weren’t mentioned. That was another story.

  The footage of the National Junior Bull Riding Championship was spectacular. They started with shots of riders getting thrown and the clowns saving them. Then there was my winning ride.

  I still marvel how I hung on that day. People ask me how I did that trick, as though I planned on getting thrown off and back on, once from each side, while holding on for dear life. I will never get on a bull again if I can help it.

  There was my appearance on American Bandstand. Dick Clark when interviewed said he was certain the world would see a lot more of me. I noticed he didn’t use the words, “hear more of me.”

  Film, of the last holes, Ohio State Boys Golf Championship, was sedate in comparison.

  The best part was Judy giving me a huge hug and kiss on the cheek in Technicolor glory. Take that Anne Howison.

  Then it was time for the awards, I and the local dignitaries walked out onto the stage. A Trophy and plaques were presented. The Mayor had one surprise, “We are putting up signs at the major city limits, Bellefontaine, Ohio, home of Ricky Jackson 1958 Champion Bull Rider, 1958 Ohio Boys Golf State Champion, Movie Actor and Singer. From all the shouts, screams and applause you would’ve thought I had actually done something. Well I had, but I knew most of it was accidental. ‘Live with it.’

  The speeches were made. Strange when a politician gives a speech congratulating you, they make it sound like they earned the glory.

  I said all the right words, thanking everyone and their brother. I ended saying.

  “I’m catching the next flight to California, I owe a girl there a kiss.”

  How was I to know that Warner Brothers had a camera in the corner and caught this on film? That was the beginning of a fake romance between me and Annette.

  For the record, we only met once more, but according to the tabloids and gossips we were all over each other. I did get a note from her occasionally when something really juicy would be printed, but that also is another story.

  I got out of there with a trophy and a plaque, plus the family had another twenty-five thousand dollars. Not bad for a three minute talk.

  It took us a while to get out of the theater with all the well-wishing.

  As we were leaving Doctor Costin who had been in the theater with other local businessmen came up to us. He congratulated me on my achievements.

  Commenting, “I had heard them all but when you put it together it is amazing.” He then proceeded to quiz Dad. “Jack I hear you are going into the rental property business.”

  “Yes I am; we have one unit rented, and buying some others.”

  “Well you know a lot of business is conducted at the country club, I would be proud to sponsor you if you wanted to join.”

  “Thanks Doc, I’ve been thinking about just that. Where can I get an application?”

  “I will have one at the front desk of my office if you want to drop by.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  From railroad extra board to the country club set in a minute. It was a really good afternoon for our family.

  We only made it another couple of steps when George Weaver cornered us.

  “Folks I’ll keep this short, are you overwhelmed, thrilled, humbled and happy?”

  “Yes, Yes, Yes, and Yes,” I replied.

  “Great, I have my story,” he said with a smile. I liked his interview technique, I had seen so many on TV asking the dumbest questions; George was refreshing.

  Our family went out to dinner. We went to the Hopewell Dairy our local dairy; they had a soda fountain where you could buy hot dogs, hamburgers and French fries. Those were okay, what was great were the banana splits!

  They had a bunch, really a large hand of bananas, and each banana had a sticker, you selected a banana and you paid whatever the number on the back of the sticker said.

  You paid anywhere from one cent to twenty five cents. The regular price was twenty cents if you didn’t want to gamble. We never got one for one cent, but we always tried.

  Mum and Dad told me about all the negotiations going back and forth about what would be in the movie. It had been tense for a while about golf tournament. If I didn’t win first place they weren’t going to include it. Once the tournament started they were nev
er in doubt.

  We went home, changed into comfortable clothes and watched Your Hit Parade, Walt Disney Presents and The Phil Silvers Show. We all loved Sgt. Bilko. Dad swore he knew the guy they modeled the show on in the army.

  That night I reread a favorite. I wondered if they would ever have a spindizzy.

  A few minutes before eleven o’clock on Saturday the doorbell rang. Don Thompson and Paul Samson had arrived. Introductions were made, Mum and Dad stayed with us while I paid them both for the day and Paul for driving. Dad had scrambled yesterday and got the NDA’s we needed. There were two sets of three copies; their individual copy, one of each of theirs for me, and one of each for our lawyer. They all needed to be signed, so in effect we all had originals.

  I then took them to the garage and showed them what I had. They listened attentively and were very interested in my notebook. However, when they looked at the prototype they would look at each other and look away quickly.

  I finally had enough and told them, “Guys it’s okay to laugh, I know it is a Rube Goldberg device.

  That broke the ice; they both agreed that they had never seen such a homemade contraption before. They loved the parts I had used. After they settled down we got into a heavy discussion of what was needed. Don made schematics of the electronics, Paul a rough drawing of the mechanical parts.

  They agreed to do a layout of each of their portions and then get together to make certain they matched. When that was done they would put together a bill of materials, a BOM, pronounced Bomb, required to build the unit. They would also provide component and assembly drawings.

  A major component not decided upon yet, was the housing. They both recommended polypropylene plastic. They would check back at Western Electric to see who could build prototype molds.

  There would be six of them, two molds for the barrel, two for the body and two for the handle, a right and left side component. They would be cheaply made, only intended to produce a hundred parts each rather than tens of thousands.

  They would do all this for a mere one thousand dollars each. They about fell over when I held out my hand and said you have a deal.

  I wrote the work to be performed as contract employees and the pay in my notebook and we all signed the agreement. I would have our lawyer draw up a formal agreement but this would get things started.

  I paid them an additional one hundred dollars each; and agreed to pay them one hundred dollars weekly for six weeks, holding back three hundred dollars until successful completion of the project. They didn’t seem to think that their parts would be difficult.

  That was the highlight of my Saturday. I wrote Judy a longer letter than normal describing the events of the last twenty four hours.

  I read most of the day; it had robots and the three laws governing them but some of the unintended consequences that could occur.

  Sunday was a very quiet day at our house; I think the week had caught up with the whole family. I walked downtown in the morning, but as usual most businesses were closed. The only people out were dressed for church. The weather was still holding but there was a nip in the air so I headed home and read some more.

  It was about some guys who had escaped from German prisons in World War II, recaptured and held in an old castle. Those guys never gave up, they were real heroes.

  Chapter 6

  Monday was clear and cold so I could go for my run. I would vary my course but it always came out to about five miles. While running I wondered what I could do now that golf season was over. I didn’t have interest in any other sports. I was going to learn Spanish, but it would only be one hour five days a week. Golf had taken three hours a day when including travel time to the country club, and weekends.

  The particular route I was running today took me up by the Air Force radar station. This station was part of the “Pine Tree” line. It was the third line of defense after the “Dew Line,” and “Mid- Canada Line.” The base was surrounded by cyclone fencing with barbed wire on top, facing out to prevent intruders.

  There was a gravel road around the inner perimeter, outside was all open fields, except for the west side, here there was a dirt road giving access to a farmers field running next to the fence. It was along this road that I ran, as part of my five mile loop. Past the farmers field unlike the other sides of the base a dense woods was adjacent to the road I ran.

  The radome’s for the two large radar units were located on the peak of Campbell’s Hill. These were not at the center of the base, but right next to where I normally ran just inside the fencing.

  On this particular day as I was running and thinking of my immediate future I saw a reflection off some glass, back in the woods. I kept running, but it nagged at me. When I was down the road, and past a bend out of the sight line of the reflection I saw, I cut into the woods.

  There I slowed down and went into stalking mode. I had hunted plenty with my Dad and knew how to move carefully enough not to disturb the game. I wasn’t sure why I was doing this, but it looked suspicious. The cold war had the entire country on edge for years; maybe that influenced my actions.

  I walked normally trying not to make a lot of sound. As I got closer to where I thought I had seen something I stopped. I watched the area for several minutes looking for any signs of movement. There were none so I cautiously advanced some more and stopped. I was rewarded for my caution, I saw movement ahead.

  A man came into view carrying a camera with a telephoto lens. He was heading away from the airbase at this point.

  I followed him, just keeping him in sight. As he came out of the woods there was an empty car sitting there. It was an old non-descript Chevrolet Bel Air, maybe a 1952, it was a blue and white four door sedan.

  I watched as he got in, performed a three point turn and drove away. I was close enough to see that the license plate was a yellow background with black numbers or letters. I couldn’t read the tag number or the state.

  It was only a quarter mile from where he was parked to State Road 540 which went into Bellefontaine, so I could see him make a left turn to go into town. I decided to change my running route and started after him. I knew I couldn’t catch him but I was still curious.

  The run down Chillicothe was easy as it was downhill all the way. Of course I didn’t catch him and hadn’t thought I would, but you never know. When I got to the bottom of the hill at the corner of Main, where the previous car wreck was, I turned right to head home.

  I was passing the only motel in town, the Fountain Lodge when I spotted a blue and white Bel Air parked in front of one of the end units. I slowed down and saw the license plate was yellow with black numbers. It was from New York State.

  I didn’t have a pen or paper with me so I tried to memorize it. I could see that wasn’t going to work so I went to the motel office. I knew the Sperry’s who ran the motel from my paper route days.

  Lou Senior was at the front desk. I asked to borrow pen and paper which he promptly provided. I wrote the plate number down.

  He asked, “What’s going on Ricky?”

  “I’m not certain, I just saw a car like the one parked outside, up real close to the airbase. It had plates like the one on the car, though I didn’t get the numbers up there.

  He laughed, “Junior G-Man on the job.”

  “Well you never know, I first saw him in the woods up close to the fence with a camera with a telephoto lens.”

  “That is a concern.”

  He looked in the guest register, and told me, “He has been staying here for three days and is not scheduled for check out for another two. What are you thinking of doing?”

  “I’m going to let someone in authority know what I saw; it may have a good explanation.”

  “Makes sense to me, who are you going to notify?”

  “I think I will head back to the airbase and let them know. First I will have to head home, I do have school today, I will talk to my parents.”

  “Okay, I will keep an eye on things here.”

  �
��Thanks, Mr. Sperry.”

  I headed home at a dead run up hill, the surprising thing was that it was not that hard on me. Mum and Dad were having their morning coffee and tea when I got home. I told them what I had seen on my run and thought I should let someone at the airbase know about it. They agreed; I took a quick shower and got dressed. Dad drove me out to the airbase.

  At the front gate of the base there was an armed guard, a sergeant. He asked what our business was. Dad told him it was a possible security breach.

  That got us to the officer of the day immediately, a Captain Monroe. When he heard my story he called Colonel Manning the base commander.

  We were taken to his sparsely furnished office, and I related the events of the morning once again. After hearing my story he pulled a fat binder off a bookshelf.

  He stated, “Like everything in the military there are procedures to be followed.”

  He thumbed through the binder until he found the section he was looking for. He then picked up his phone and dialed a number from the procedure book. As the phone was ringing at the other end, he explained.

  “In this case I’m to notify the FBI. I am calling their Columbus office.”

  About that time someone answered the telephone, he explain who he was, Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Manning, Commander 664th Aircraft Control and Warning Squadron, Bellefontaine, Ohio. He was reporting per procedure a possible security breach. He was transferred to an agent.

  The Colonel reintroduced himself and gave a brief rundown of what had occurred. He answered some questions which seemed to revolve around my sanity and citizenship. From his replies he must have thought I was a good citizen and appeared to be sane.

  He said, “We will see you then,” and hung up.

  “Mr. Jackson the FBI will be here in several hours, they have requested that Richard stay here until they arrive.”