Looking Back

Looking Back (And a Wee Bit Forward)

Ken Woolf June 2006

Table Of Contents

Introduction

2

Chapter 1: Medway 1939

3

Chapter 2: Dad's Roots - The Woolfs

5

Chapter 3: Mom’s Roots - The Kahans

14

Chapter 4: The War Years

22

Chapter 5: Post War to 1950

30

Chapter 6: 1950 Through 1960

36

Chapter 7: 1960 Through 1970

51

Chapter 8: 1970 Through 1980

66

Chapter 9: 1980 Through 1990

79

Chapter 10: 1990 Through 2000

86

Chapter 11: 2000 Though 2006

90

Chapter 12: My Partner in Life

100

Chapter 13: My Family

102

Appendix: Random Thoughts

103

Introduction Years after Aunt Ida Ashman passed away at the age of 94, something would come up in the course of conversation regarding our family history or an event and it would became apparent that the last family member who remembered long ago was no longer here to consult. Now, following the passing of all my aunts and uncles, and finally my parents, I realize that I am now the "Aunt Ida" of this generation... the eldest...the patriarch of the family.

Wow, that sounds impressive (old, too). But, I guess it also holds its own fair share of responsibility.!

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And while I am hardly a professional writer, I wonder if it would serve some purpose if I were to commit to paper, so many of the memories I have of events in my lifetime and the heritage of our ancestors as I have come to know it. I would also like to add that I am not the only source of information on years gone by in our family. Some of my brothers have gathered considerable information on our lineage. In particular, Murray took the initiative to interview my parents while they were alive and gather valuable information from them, based on their respective recollections.!

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As for this contribution to preserving the past, I feel that this is something I shall share with my children while I am in the position to do so. I will also share it with anyone else in the family that expresses an interest in its contents. And since my three girls are three very different personalities, I suspect that this will be received quite differently from the historic to the sentimental and all points in between.!

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I would also like to ask of the reader a wee bit of leniency for I intend to sprinkle in some Yiddish words that will severely challenge my modest spelling skills and render Spell-Check useless. I also admit that I am writing this "off the top of my head," so there is always the chance that I may be off here or there with respect to events vs. dates they occurred. Hey, if I were perfect I would be writing a Bible, not this.!

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So if you have nothing better to do with your time and are consumed with a bit of curiosity, sit back and read a bit. Who knows, you may hear one you've never heard before.!

Chapter 1: Medway 1939 In 1939, I was but three years old when the first event I can actually recall, occurred. I have read that early recollections such as this one are usually significant in one way or the other and often, a result of fear or excitement. In my case, I was scared.!

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There had been harsh words as Dad drove away from the small Medway house with a white picket fence in front. We were riding in Dad's white panel truck as I looked back through the rear window at my mother who stared after us with tears in her eyes. That memory stayed with me, and years later I was able to confirm through discussions with both Mom and Dad what had happened.!

I had been born to two parents who were not yet old enough to vote. 
 I was their first child and until this event, had spent every wakened hour with my mother. I was her baby. Then, Dad who, at that time, was introducing the 7-Up drink to the New England marketplace decided that his son was old enough to accompany him to work. I also remember that the truck didn't have a passenger seat to make room for more bottles. The points of those bottles made an impression on me and my ''tush" that is equally vivid to this day.!

Simply stated, Mom didn't agree and Dad won out in a tug-of-war over me. I saw my mother cry and that scared me. I heard my father yell and that scared me. And so, on that day in 1939,1 became "Sid's boy." Dad later quoted Mom as saying, "Okay, you can have this one but any others will be mine." So much of what happened that day in Medway and in particular Mom's statement, found its way through the roots of our family tree, impacting Mom and Dad, and my brothers yet to be born.!

From that time in 1939, whenever Dad had his own enterprise (when he worked for others, they were not too keen on him bringing his kid along), I was by his side. As the years passed, it was the gas station on Norfolk Street, the Fix-It Shop on Harvard Street, and later in Tampa, Serv-All Furniture Service.

It was while delivering Seven-Up, Dad became familiar with the Italian community that composed most of his route. He picked up some Italian language skills and an affinity for their food and song. It was about that time that he taught me how to say "close the refrigerator" in Italian. It came out something like, “Shutum-upa-de-icabox.� !

Before going farther, let me make it clear that this writing is not intended to throw darts at anyone in our family. Each and every one of us is a product of so many variables. There is no doubt that had Dad conducted himself differently and had Mom not been so myopic, all of our lives would have been less complex or at best, different. Would they have been better? Who knows? Other variables would have come into play. All I wish to do here is share the facts as I know them and let the reader interpret them as they see fit. Since I am human, I will most likely reflect some of my own interpretations and biases but when noted by the reader, please accept them only as an opinion and not fact.

Chapter 2: Dad's Roots - The Woolfs Dad was born in Sioux City, Iowa in October 1915 and his name was Simon Woolf. Why Sioux City? Because that is where the family migrated once they arrived in this country. Some of Bubby's brothers had already set up shop there and as I shall make clear in this writing, where Bubby wanted to go is where the family went. !

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At the time they settled in Sioux City, Aunt Ida and Uncle Jack were the only children.

Aunt Sadie and Dad were born in Iowa. To understand Dad is to know his parents, my Bubby and Papa and particularly two of his siblings who had a particular influence on him.!

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Bubby Woolf!

When you look for the roots of our family tree and the one who had the greatest impact on all of us who followed, you must start with Bubby Woolf, my Dad's mother. She was opinionated, had a heart of gold, was stubborn, was traditional, and stood for women's rights before it was fashionable, and so much more.!

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Bubby was the eldest child in a large family living in the village ("Schtetel") of Kapuleh, Minsk (referred to as “White Russia"). Her mother was a frail woman who her father held on a pedestal.

Rather than place the burden on her mother, Bubby's father insisted that Mulke (Mollie in Yiddish) do the heavy work. It became more than that: Mulke also had to tend to the needs of her younger siblings and, in general, cook and run the house. She worked hard but that was the nature of life in those days.

They did not have electricity so when there was natural light you worked and when it got dark you slept. It was that simple but it also defined a rather long workday.

Only Bubby's brothers were to be educated because that was the custom of the times.

In those days, girls did not receive the luxury of an education. Bubby told me how she would stand outside the door of the room where the male members of the family studied, with a broom, pretending to be sweeping the floor. In reality she was listening to the lessons going on the other side of the door and absorbing as much as she could. !

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Believe it or not, with this little exposure to education and with the help of her brothers, my Bubby learned to read and write. By the time she moved to America many years later, she was fluent in Russian, Polish, German and Yiddish. Then she added English. I have always felt that she resented the second class treatment of the female and was hell bent to show her father up by succeeding in spite of her gender. One might say she was a bit ahead of her time.!

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Bubby's father had a temper and a mean streak that, once unleashed, knew no limits.

One day, one of Bubby's younger brothers made his father extremely mad and in response, he hit the youngster on the side of his head with a leather boot. The boy lost all hearing in that ear for life. For whatever, reason, years later, my Bubby named her last child after her father, Shlemeh. That was my father, named Simon in English.!

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Bubby had a lot of pride and was a stubborn person. In the old country, they lived in a! "schtetel" where the learned one was the Rabbi. He taught and he led the religious community but he didn't earn money. In return the members of the community fed him, clothed him, and in general, took care of his basic needs. Some times, the human element would come into play and the Rabbi would begin to take things (like his own importance) for granted.!

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I remember a Rabbi Hertzberg (from Germany) who, one day, felt comfortable entering my Bubby's house without knocking and presenting himself as ready to be fed. She resented has lack of manners and threw him out of the house. No matter how much pressure she came under from members of the community, he was never allowed to set foot in her house again. If a person found their way onto her black list, they stayed there.

Rabbi Hertzberg didn't know a prayer that would change that in any way.

Papa Woolf!

In the days of my Papa's youth, it was common for a child of 6 or 7 years of age to begin an apprenticeship, to begin learning a productive skill. My Papa, as a youngster, served his apprenticeship in tailoring. But the Russian army had no interest in that talent. !

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He was inducted into the military at the age of 13 or 14, serving in the Calvary for a number of years. While not a particularly large man, Papa was naturally strong and thus physically able to handle heavy work in a multitude of assignments. He also had a commitment to keeping his word and giving his employer a day's work for a day's pay - a credo that has been passed on to many of his descendants. And, yes, one other thing I remember first hand. He was a perfectionist. “If you do it, do it right!�!

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As a young man, Papa was sympathetic to the rights of individuals and an ability to openly express one's opinion which, philosophically, didn't coincide with that of the Czar. Later, it was a natural result of this difference that caused Papa to think in terms of migrating to America where he might find a freedom that was non-existent in Russia. Once out of the army, Papa met and married Mollie Kalin around 1907. Aunt Ida was born in 1908 and Uncle Jack in 1910. They migrated to America shortly thereafter.!

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While Papa had the ability to think in sober terms, there was the devilish side of Papa and the ever-present twinkle in his eye. I remember one cold winter day when I arrived at their house chilled to the bone. Pa took one look at me and with a motion of his head and with not a word spoken, he invited me to follow him. !

Downstairs we went...all the way to the cellar. Once there, he led me to a far comer where there was an area closed in with chicken wire. He took out a key from his pocket, opened the enclosure and led me to a locked cabinet that he also opened. Inside was a bottle of special schnapps (whisky). From the cabinet he took out two shots glasses, filled them and we toasted his little secret cache.

We then closed up the cabinet and the chicken wired space and proceeded to climb the two flights of stairs to their apartment. Following our clandestine visit to the basement, I went into the kitchen where Bubby was busy preparing dinner and she said, "Noo, you enjoyed the schnapps?� Nothing got by her.!

Papa might not have been the ultra-orthodox person that some people might think, but he was well grounded in Judaism and followed the tenets of our religion. Papa would work on Shabbos if he absolutely had no way of getting around it, but he didn't like the idea. Pa was active at the Schule and contributed much of his time to its benefit. He always seemed to have a pet saying that would be just right for the occasion and reflect a man whose innate intellect ran deep.!

As a pair, Bubby and Papa were very traditional, particularly as it applied to religion. On Friday, they felt that nothing should get in the way of the traditional Shabbos meal. !

I think the one time I simultaneously had both of them most upset with me is when I was in the Navy and I arrived late for Shabbos dinner. My ship was dry-docked at the South Boston Naval Shipyard. I got off the ship on time, and got to my car without any delays. But once I started on my way, I found myself bogged down in the worst traffic I had ever seen. !

To avoid it I tried some side streets and finally broke out back onto a main drag to find myself enveloped within a parade. It was St. Patrick's Day in South Boston. Bottle wielding gents slopped liquor on me through the open window as they waved me on. Young ladies reached into the car to plant a kiss and to ride on the fender.

By the time I finally arrived at the house, smelling of liquor and wearing lipstick on my cheek, there was no way I could excuse my tardy arrival for Shabbos. Neither one of them would buy my rather suspicious tale.!

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Uncle Jack (Jacob) H. Woolf!

When you look at those factors that shaped Dad's personality and psyche, you cannot leave his older brother Jack out of the picture.

As with most people in the Woolf family, Uncle Jack was extremely bright. Add to that his imagination, and ambition, and you have a hard driving, demanding and yet, personable individual.!

At the age of eight, he had a wet wash business going and was already earning his own money. He would take in laundry, wash it and deliver it wet where his customer would hang it out to dry. Picture if you would, an eight-year-old boy lugging heavy baskets of wet wash up as much as three or four flights of stairs to make delivery. But, he was determined and ambitious from his youth to his death.!

About the same time Jack was able to build crystal radios out of cigar boxes. This enterprising young man presented a hard act to follow as Dad came along behind him. Dad refused to compete. Maybe he felt intimidated and chose not to try rather than to do so and take a chance on losing. He would play ball and hang out with his friends on the street rather than do anything that could possibly be compared to Jack. Uncle Jack did not play baseball.!

Dad told me how Bubby would chastise him for "clopping the ball" instead of being productive like "Yankle" (Jack in Yiddish). (Interestingly, Dad often spoke of the time when Bubby read of Joe DiMaggio being paid $50,000 and asked him, "If you have to clop the ball, why can't you get paid like him?")!

The constant comparison to his brother fueled a wedge between the two that varied in intensity through the years and was only put to rest shortly before Uncle Jack died of cancer many years later when they were both in their seventies.!

The chasm between them was so great that for many years, they would hardly speak to one another. The worst break between them began after a fistfight that I witnessed. The argument that fueled that fight, in my opinion, was a shame for neither of them was completely innocent. Uncle Jack came out of that altercation with a scar over his eye for which Bubby held Dad responsible. Uncle Jack was clearly her favorite and Dad's side of the argument was neither solicited nor acknowledged.!

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Aunt Ida (Woolf) Ashman!

No discussion of Dad's family or the influences on Dad's persona would be complete without some reference to the role Aunt Ida played. She was the eldest of the four children and as independent a spirit as her mother. It was Aunt Ida who was responsible for the family moving from Sioux City, Iowa to Boston.!

Papa had brothers who had settled in Boston, so when Aunt Ida got bored with the quiet small town atmosphere of Sioux City, she asked for and gained permission to go visit the family in Boston. She was about seventeen (17) years old at the time and there was no holding her back. It wasn't long thereafter that they received word from Boston that she had met and was planning to marry an "architect," Hyman Ashman.

Strapped for money as he was, Papa rode a cattle car in order to get to Boston and find out just what was going on with his daughter Ida. Upon arrival, he quickly learned that Hyman Ashman was not an architect but instead, a carpenter. Aunt Ida always had a knack for embellishment so it had been easy to promote Mr. Ashman from carpenter to architect.!

On the positive side, Hymie (as he was commonly called) was an honest, hard-working and talented individual. He was equally capable of building a rolled top desk as he was constructing a house. I feel quite fortunate to have known him as a young boy. He had a great sense of humor. He learned to pick his fights very carefully. Aunt Ida ruled the roost.

Dad used to say that the first sighting of a flying saucer was at Aunt Ida's house upon her first argument with Uncle Hy.!

Aunt Ida had a flare for the dramatic and that characteristic showed itself throughout her life.

One early example of that was when she took Dad to enroll him in school for the first time.

At that point, Bubby's English was not that good, so she relied on Aunt Ida to take Dad to school.!

In filling out the paperwork, she made a few adjustments. She didn't think that Simon
 was sophisticated enough, so she enrolled him as Sidney. She also thought it would spell better as Wolfe instead of Woolf. It remained for Dad to be working on government projects many years later where he had to have security clearance, for him to order a birth certificate and uncover these subtle changes. The folks' marriage license and both mine and my brother Bob’s birth certificates reflected Sidney Wolfe. These had to be changed. !

I recall many of Dad's boyhood friends who would come by the gas station. They all called him Sid and I was "Sid's boy." Shortly thereafter, when his correct name of Simon was uncovered and he began using it, he commonly became known as "Cy." Depending on whether he was called Sid or Cy, the name quickly defined the speaker as a childhood friend or someone he met later in life. So, Aunt Ida had an impact on his life that began with his very name. Her influence took on other forms as the years passed and as I proceed in these writing, I hope to share them.!

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Aunt Sadie (Woolf) Snyder!

Aunt Sadie was the third child and the first of the children born in America. Of all of Dad's siblings, Aunt Sadie probably had the least affect on his personality or life. She was a kind and giving person.!

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Dad tells tales of her as a youngster that leaves the impression of a tomboy, if anything. She was quite spunky and looked out after her younger brother, more so than the others. But that may understandably be due to the proximity of age. When a bigger

boy took Dad's ball away from him, it was Sadie who got it back after flattening him with a right hook.!

"Sayndel," as Papa would call her, was clearly his favorite, his little girl. In adulthood, it was Sayndel who moved into the same house as Bubby and Papa and looked after them in their latter years. In return, Papa left that house to her in his will.!

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The Migration to America!

There have been conflicting stories about how all this came about. What I know from my personal dialogue with my grandparents and that which I have learned from other sources, seems to make sense. I share it here for what it is worth.!

Papa had relatives that settled in the Boston area while Bubby had some whom went to Iowa. Bubby and Papa wound up in Sioux City, Iowa and this is how it came about.!

Bubby had an uncle who was a half-brother to her mother. His name was Ike Miller and he opened a beer brewery in Sioux City. Yes, that was the start of Miller Beer. He was obviously quite successful and influential in helping many of his family settle in America.!

In 1912, Papa left Russia and took off to America intent on sending for his family once he was settled in with a secure situation. It took a year or so before they joined him in Sioux City, Iowa.!

It was Ike Miller who provided Papa a bed to sleep in and a job at the brewery. I have heard that his first job there was washing out bottles, then he moved up the ladder and started delivering kegs of brew from a horse-drawn wagon. His physical strength and his familiarity with horses (thanks to the Russian army) helped a lot. Unfortunately, Papa didn't stay employed at Millers Brewery. If he had, he might have shared in its success as the years passed.!

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Why Sioux City!

I have frequently been asked how a Jewish family winds up in Sioux City, Iowa. In truth, there was a large Jewish community there as well as other cities throughout the mid-western States. Most immigrants left Europe intent on getting to the United States but not necessarily any specific location there.

Upon arrival at Ellis Island in New York, there were agents standing about to help the immigrants get settled. These agents would offer them land of their own if they would settle in a particular location where there was a need for development.!

Sioux City was one of those places where a number of Jewish families migrated in the middle to latter 1800's. Then as others came across the ocean, they followed members of their respective families that had preceded them to those same destinations.!

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A Common Denominator!

If I may play amateur psychologist a bit, please bear with me. In my opinion, there was one characteristic that seemed prevalent in most members of the Woolf family described above, with the exception of Papa. And that was insecurity that led to an inferiority complex that most of them possessed. They all seemed intent on needing to prove something to someone.!

Bubby had been put down as a female in her early years and treated by her father as less important than her mother. In all she told me, I could not help but believe that she felt deep down within her that she had something to prove. Aunt Ida followed the same mold.!

But it was with my father, in whom I saw most of what I am referring to at this point. He was raised in the shadow of his older brother, and often asked “why can't you do this or that like Jake?� Jake this and Jake that, only drove him more in the opposite direction. That led to the streets, the sports and everything else in which you would never see Jake involved. Dad took out his unreleased anger with is fists, whenever an opportunity presented itself. Fortunately, he made his way to a local gymnasium where prizefighters trained, and where some of his fisticuffs could be molded in a controlled fashion. As a teenager, he was entered in and did quite well in local Golden Gloves competition.!

Often, insecure people tend toward the bravado as a way of covering up their insecurity. Such was the way with Dad. Put him in a group of people and he was the one who had to dominate conversation. And when someone challenged him in one way or the other, he could get extremely upset.!

Mom was the only woman in his life. In truth, he was very naive when it came to women and again, he would talk a great story when in truth, this was an area he trod on with great trepidation. I would watch him make cute talk with women and wonder what he would do if they ever took him up on his bravado. Anything having to do with sex made him particularly uncomfortable.

It is a sad testimonial when a person feels compelled to gain the approval and respect of another. I think my father would have loved to have his mother show him the respect that she lavished on his brother Jack. It just never happened and makes for a sad commentary.!

Insecure people fear failure. They will pick their challenges very carefully. Those situations that offer the greatest chance of defeat are avoided. Dad never sought a formal education for fear of failing. While Uncle Jack never went beyond high school and thirsted for learning, he soaked up everything he could in the way of knowledge. In my lifetime, I remember Uncle Jack driving to Cleveland to learn about a new technology developed by Carrier. It was called air conditioning. He came back and changed the name of his company from Serv-All Heat and Appliance to Serv-All Heating and Air Conditioning. No, education was not a field upon which Dad wanted to compete... not with Jack.!

Chapter 3: Mom's Roots - The Kahans Mom was born in Chicago in May 1916. Just like Dad, she had an older sister named Ida and an older brother named Jack. But the names are all that are similar. Both Jack's and Ida's were totally different personalities. Actually, there was another Kalian child, a baby boy Joseph who died very early in life. I believe that Joseph was born before Mom and that she was named after him, Josephine. It makes sense. On this side of the family, we were taught to call our grandparents Bubby and Zadie.!

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Bubby and Zadie emigrated from Rumania and I am not certain what brought them to Chicago other than that there were others in the family there. Mom's maternal grandmother lived with them, so it may have become a gathering place for relatives, as was the case for the Woolf family in Sioux City. I do know that Mom's Bubby had a great influence on her. While Bubby and Zadie were working in the store, little Josie was tended to, and learned from, her Bubby.!

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Bubby and Zadie had a haberdashery business in Chicago and Bubby was the business brains behind the counter.

Years later when they opened "Dave's Place," a little soda shop in Tampa, the same roles were played out. Zadie was the labor and Bubby was the business head. By no means do I say this in a derogatory way. It is just a statement of fact that like on my paternal side, the female was the dominant character.!

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There is an interesting conflict in the spelling of their name that has never been explained. While they were living in Chicago, their name was spelled "Kohan." Yet, when living in Boston and thereafter, it became "Kahan." The census records in Chicago clearly show the name as Kohan and list the children Ida, Jack and Josie. So, they definitely spelled it that way then. No one knows how and why it was changed.!

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Bubby Kahan!

In Chicago, Bubby was a heavy woman and she was also a good businessperson.

She knew how to play the cards that are dealt. Al Capone, the mobster, ran the city of Chicago and had a piece of everything that went on there. How they managed to succeed without any entanglements with the mobs, was a subject they would never address, even though I asked about it on a few occasions.

Bubby was the kind of person who could make a dress from what others threw away as scraps. I remember an end table that was really an orange crate with a nicely sewn fabric cover. She also had a quiet way teaching ... of sharing her knowledge in a way that was supportive rather than intimidating. When Anita and I were young and just married, it was Bubby Kahan that took the new member of the family under her wing. She showed Anita so many things that have stood her in good stead to this day.!

She was also a "with it" kind of person, had a great sense of humor, and was unafraid to try something new and modern. I remember with not the greatest enthusiasm, how she and my mother delighted in dressing me up as a little girl for a costume party I didn’t want to attend. They thought it would be cute while I was not so excited about the idea. It was a cooperative effort between the tow of them.

Bubby was in charge of applying the makeup while Mom held me down.!

Bubby also had lots of old cures that she would not let you avoid taking advantage of when there was a need. As an example, if you had a fever, she would chew up rye bread and stick a piece on your forehead. I could never concentrate much of the fever when all I cold think of was her saliva-logged bread on the front of my face.!

And boy, we didn’t want her to think that vomiting would get rid of whatever was ailing us.

She had a concoction of milk, melted butter, sugar and who knows what else that she warmed up. It was guaranteed to make you empty your stomach of whatever was in there, good or bad. Just writing about it makes me queasy.!

Bubby was fiercely independent. She had tried living with the folks but that arrangement wouldn't hold up. After Zadie died and following her cataract surgery, she still insisted on having her own apartment. With little eyesight left, she still preferred to live an independent life. Anita helped her move in, unpack, and settle in to her apartment. Bubby was extremely particular in how she wanted things done and she trusted Anita to do things just as she liked. They had a great relationship.!

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Zadie Kahan!

Zadie was a red head and it must have been a dominant gene.

As years passed, he had red headed children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and even great, great grandchildren. I'll never forget the twinkle in his eye when Mollie was born and he saw a red headed great granddaughter.

He was a very conservative individual. When he played pinnacle, he would never bid more than he absolutely had in his hand. Oh, how well I remember the arguments as Zadie, Uncle Max, Uncle Jack and my father played pinnacle. He just wouldn't gamble on anything, even a good playing hand. Nothing was left to chance ... particularly if money was involved. They played a penny per point.!

Bubby and Zadie were very much a team and yet, at times, they could compete. I recall how at the Passover Seder table, they both knew the Hagaddah from memory, and they would often race each other through the tongue-twisting songs. No one could keep up with them, so we would often sit back and watch them go at it.!

As the years passed in Boston, Bubby’s arthritis got worse and it was suggested that they move to Arizona where the dry weather would be better for her. So they packed up their belongings, piled into their 1935 Chevy and left Boston, headed to Arizona. Somewhere in west Texas (I believe it was near El Paso), they encountered a bus going the wrong way and after the accident, the car was totaled and their belongings were strewn all over the highway. Zadie came out of it all right but Bubby had a broken arm. They gathered up
 what they could carry with them and completed the trip to Phoenix by bus.!

It wasn't long before they determined that the arthritis was no better in Arizona than it was in Massachusetts. So they decided to return to Boston. Unfamiliar as they were with America's geography, they decided to visit Bubby's sister Minnie on the way home. After all, Phoenix and Tampa, Florida were both in the south. It had to be on the way. While visiting Minnie, un-expectantly, Bubby's arthritis pain eased up, so they decided to settle in Tampa.!

Their first business endeavor in Tampa was a small dinette on Grand Central Street, later to be renamed, John F. Kennedy Boulevard. Aunt Minnie's daughter Fritzie was married to Morris Kitchler. It was with Morris that Bubby and Zadie partnered in that dinette. Morris was by trade a life insurance salesman and knew very little about the food service business, and it didn't take long before they terminated the partnership and the business. Fortunately, they broke up the business relationship before doing irreparable damage to their personal feelings for one another.

Then, on the corner of North Boulevard and Cypress Street, Bubby and Zadie located a small building that could easily be set up as a soda shop. With windows that opened on two sides of the corner building, Dave's Place became community landmark. They sold soft drinks, sandwiches (made and wrapped by Bubby), cigarettes, and various sundries. Across the street was a battery manufacturing facility whose employees provided business during the daytime hours. Down the street within a two-block walking distance was the Tampa Fair Ground that hosted regular stock car races as well as special events such as the Gasparilla Parade.!

On evenings when there was an event going on at the Fair Grounds, we would park cars behind Dave's Place in a small lot for $0.50 per car. Dad would help out, as did I. After having driven cars around the gas station in Boston, parking them in the lot was a piece of cake.

Through all of this, Zadie was a stalwart worker who put in the hours. I also remember him trying to pay Dad for his help parking cars. Zadie's principles said that you paid people for working. Dad's principles said that you don't accept payment for helping a father. The two of them battled and never agreed on this topic.!

The reason I am including this information under the heading of Zadie is because of his role in all of this. He loved Bubby dearly. If it meant easing Bubby's pain, he would drive across country, he would endure auto accidents, he would shlep on busses, and he would settle in a strange place called Tampa, Florida if it would be better for her. He was totally committed to his love for Bubby and years later, when the time finally came, he died in her arms.!

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Aunt Ida (Kahan) Schwartz!

Aunt Ida was a gifted child, playing the piano at a young age and ultimately teaching others. The first direct inheritor of Zadie's red hair, Aunt Ida was a kindly and caring person. She married Max Schwartz in Chicago and followed her husband to Boston where he had family. Like her namesake on the Woolf side, she was the first to migrate to Boston, followed soon thereafter by the remainder of her family. By the way, when I was born, she and Uncle Max were named my G-d-Parents.!

Aunt Ida's house was the center of family activity. We would always gather there on every occasion. Whether it was the annual Chanukah family gathering, a birthday party, or just a Sunday afternoon get-together, it would typically take place at their home. I remember how we would all come together and when evening came, all of us children would be expected to lay down quietly in another room and go to sleep while the adults played cards. Who could sleep? We were kids and we played.

And even if we wanted to sleep, the arguments over the last pinochle hand could have kept the dead awake.

In the early years, when I was small, Aunt Ida and Uncle Max lived in Randolph. In those days, it was a farming community with a small population...not at all what it looks like today.

When we visited there, I remember a neighbor of theirs who raised chickens. We would go over there to get our eggs and the owner would let us pick them ourselves. I recall the hens not at all happy about our little hands intruding into their nests.!

Later on, Aunt Ida's house on Glenway Street in Dorchester was the scene of most family activity. In fact, when Bobby was born, his Bris was held there. Early home movies that were taken of that event showed me coming out of the house a little tipsy. My older cousin Murray decided to share an excessive amount of wine with me and amid the festivities, no one noticed until I started weaving about.!

Aunt Ida would take a sincere interest in the lives of all her nieces and nephews. Their lives were her lives and their good fortune was hers as well. Never would any of our birthdays, anniversaries, graduations or other events go by without receiving a greeting card from Aunt Ida.!

She did not raise an eyebrow or critique the actions of others. She tended to avoid conflicts to a fault. Perhaps there were times when she should have been a little more forceful. As an example, rather than have a conflict with her daughter Roberta ("Bertie") who did not want to go to the dentist for early treatment, Bertie grew up and went through life with an extended tooth that she subconsciously kept covered with her upper lip, making for an odd smile.!

Widowed early in life (Uncle Max died at the age of 41), she raised four girls and took care of her family needs, all on her own. She chose to swallow her pride and accept Massachusetts's aid, so that she could be at home and tend properly to the parenting of her children.!

Aunt Ida never took on Bubby's skill at cooking. Dad often chided her for her liberal use of canned foods and a diet that was not founded on meat and potatoes. Somehow, Aunt Ida and her family got along quite well on whatever food she placed on the table. In her way of assessing values, food was not at the top of life's pile of objectives. Somehow, she managed to raise four relatively healthy girls and see them all married off in her lifetime. Her priorities were apparently fine.!

Aunt Ida was a very independent individual, quite satisfied in her latter years to live in an assisted living facility in Brockton.

She took pride in her small, yet tastefully appointed apartment. She partook of activities within the building and tours outside of it. I cannot remember her uttering a complaint. She was satisfied with her lot in life and always saw the half-full glass. It wasn't until she could no longer

take care of her own needs in the Brockton facility, that she was moved to a nursing home.

That move, made necessary by her inability to live an independent life, directly preceded the end of hers. It was a matter of months after her move that she passed away. Days before her last, we visited with her and brought pictures of young people in our family. She was so animated, looking at the pictures and making particularly positive comments about the ones with red hair. It was a matter of a few days later that she passed on and reunited with her Maxie.!

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Uncle Max Schwartz!

Uncle Max was not tall, maybe about 5'7" or so. He loved music, dancing, his wife and his children...not necessarily in that order. His four girls were his pride and joy: Ruthie, Bertie, Charlotte, and Marilyn.!

He had short stubby fingers that he used most effectively on his bongo drums. Boy, that man had rhythm. In his earlier years he lived in the Miami area and hung out with the Cuban musicians. One of fame was the bandleader, Xavier Cugart.

When I knew him, it would hardly take any encouragement for Uncle Max to pull down his drums, clamp them between his knees and play away.!

As stated earlier, he was my G-d Father and I was his "only son." In those days, most men belonged to one fraternal lodge or another. He belonged to the Fraternal Order of Odd Fellows and when I was born, he took his lodge ring off his finger and gave it to my mother, to be given to me when I was old enough to wear it. Years later, when I joined the Knights of Pythias, I had the K of P insignia put on that ring in place of the one from the Odd Fellows.

He never lived long enough to see that day.!

In truth, he had many sons because he devoted every bit of time he could manage to the Boy Scouts. He took them on trips, met with them at Scout meetings, and raised money for their activities. I do not know where he got his commitment to die Boy Scouts but one thing is for sure. It was true and unyielding. After Uncle Jack moved from Chicago, Uncle Max recruited him to help out with the Scouts. When Uncle Max died, he was mourned by more than his family, but by young men throughout the Boston area.!

At the age of 41 he had severe back problems that ultimately saw him placed in traction in the hospital. I recall going to visit him. He had a weight hanging from a contraption that pulled on his head, supposedly taking pressure of his spinal column. Medications given him that were intended to easy the pain didn't work and ultimately his heart gave out. He never left the hospital alive.

Uncle Jack Kahan!

If Aunt Ida Schwartz was the opposite of her namesake on the Woolf side of the family, so was this Uncle Jack. Uncle Jack Woolf was intent on being his own boss, saving for the future, and owning his own home. Uncle Jack Kahan was content to live in rented apartments, spend whatever he earned, and always worked for someone else.!

I recall how each year he would borrow money so that he could take his family on a vacation. By the time the loan was paid off, it was time to make another one for the next year's vacation. His approach had its merits for in the long run; he too died early in life (57) but in his passing, left memories of trips and experiences with his family. After he was gone, those memories were worth far more than amassed bank accounts could ever have been.!

When Uncle Jack moved to Boston from Chicago, Uncle Max was able to get him a job at Kassanoffs Bakery delivering bread. Later when Zadie moved to Boston, he too drove a bread truck for Kassanoffs.!

Since I shared the story of how the Woolf family migrated from Sioux City to Boston, perhaps I should also describe the move the Kahan's made from Chicago.!

As stated earlier, Aunt Ida and Uncle Max were married in Chicago and moved to Boston.

Uncle Max had a half brother in Boston, Harold Schwartz, who was a little younger but most definitely old enough to be interested in meeting Ida's younger sister. The dialogue between the two began through letters but Harold wasn't the best when it came to creative writing.

So, he turned to a friend of his for help in drafting these letters...Sid Wolfe.!

On a trip to Boston to visit Aunt Ida and Uncle Max, Josie finally met Harold in person but she found herself more attracted to his friend Sid. After she returned to Chicago, they corresponded by mail. (She found a similarity in the writing styles of Harold and Sid.) It was the beginning of a relationship that grew quickly to love and marriage. That brought Mom to Boston. It was just a matter of time before Uncle Jack, Bubby and Zadie made the move as well.!

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Mom and Dad's Early Married Years!

It is truly an over-simplification to say that Mom and Dad fell in love and got married. While that is in fact true, it was not as easy as it sounds. To begin with, Bubby Woolf was dead set against the marriage. Understandably so, she felt that Dad was not ready for the responsibilities that go with married life. He had no skills to earn a living, he was hooking up with the first girl who ever paid him any attention, and he had never

exhibited any level of responsibility. !

Bubby was also very suspicious of this girl from the big city (Chicago) where all the gangsters control everything, someone who was obviously turning Dad's head and taking advantage of his naiveté. Given what little Dad had to offer makes you wonder what Bubby thought Mom would have gained by taking advantage of the situation. As it turned out, Mom, too, was rather inexperienced with the opposite gender and was hardly the sex-siren from Chicago that Bubby envisioned.!

The only leverage Bubby had was to refuse to attend the wedding if they insisted on going through with their plans. That didn't work for in August 1935, Mom and Dad were married in the home of a Rabbi who lived on Talbot Avenue in Dorchester, across the street form Franklin Field where Dad had grown up playing ball. Not one member of the Woolf family witnessed the event.!

Once the deed was done, Bubby made a passing effort to accept the new member of the family. Dad, who had a room in the attic of Bubby and Papa's house at 92 Willowood Street, brought his bride there. There were nights when the young couple huddled in the attic hungry while Bubby and Papa ate down stairs. Mom and Dad were to proud to admit out loud that they were hungry and Bubby was too stubborn to welcome Mom, by inviting her down to eat. With time, the ice melted on both sides. But it remained for Dad to begin earning a salary (doing anything that paid) so that they could move out on their own. !

That led them to the slums of South Boston on Geneva Street where I was born in 1936, a year after their marriage. As the years passed, Mom became accepted by Bubby more and more. She taught Mom to cook Dad's favorite dishes and how to shop. Bubby showed Mom how a melon should feel before you buy it and how to determine that this or that wasn't fresh. By the time Bubby passed away, many years later, Mom truly mourned the loss.!

Chapter 4: The War Years Memories of Lynn !

From an economic standpoint the latter 1930's was generally considered post-depression years. And they were tough years. In 1940 we moved to Lynn, Massachusetts and settled in with Aunt Ida and Uncle Hymie in their house on Green Street. While that arrangement didn't last long, it did provide inexpensive housing when we really needed it. It also presented an opportunity for me to develop a relationship with my cousins. Charlotte, the eldest was already out of the house, but still there were Murray, Audrey, and Stan.!

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Stan and I were sent to the same school. I don't remember much about it but it must have been a kindergarten. There was one rocking horse in the room and when I wasn't on it, Stan was...hence no one else got near it. Murray was a big brother to both Stan and I. He looked after us when we went out of the house. Yet, Stan and I had been taught what to do if Murray had a seizure. You see, Murray was quite ill. His failing kidneys were not working right, his skin was a yellowish color, and the doctors predicted he would not live to see his Bar Mitzvah. He fooled them all and lived to celebrate his 20 birthday.!

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Murray's entire education was through tutors who came to the house because they could not take a chance on him going to school. He was extremely strong in mathematics and loved to do math problems in his head. He also liked to take things apart and put them together. I remember him taking Aunt Ida's favorite clock apart to see how it worked. He put it back together fine but that event caused Aunt Ida to insist that Uncle Hymie buy Murray a car. Uncle Hymie bought Murray an old junker of a car.!

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Murray was permitted to drive the car only as far as the street (they had a big yard).

But the real reason for the car was to give Murray something he could tinker with to his heart's content. And that he did. Aunt Ida was certain that if he had a car to tinker with, he would leave her clocks alone. It worked.!

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Murray had a great sense of humor and loved living. It was like he new his years were numbered so he was intent on making the most of that which he was privileged to experience. I remember him salting down some food and my Dad asking him why he was doing that when he knew it was bad for him. Murray answered somewhat along the lines of, "If I don't salt it and enjoy my meal less, will I live another day? I would rather enjoy what I can, while I can.�

Murray also saved my life. On the way home from an Abbott and Costello movie, we walked across a frozen pond. The ice cracked and I fell through. When I came up I hit my head on the underside of the ice and was disoriented enough to where I did not know where the hole was located. About the time that I could no longer hold my breath, a hand grabbed the collar of my coat and dragged me to, and through, the hole. It was Murray. He chastised me for trying to go swimming in the winter cold and put his warm jacket around me. In retrospect, he was probably as scared as I was over the incident but had to make a joke of it That was his nature.!

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Dad's Career Path!

When I refer to the "War Years," I am including the year 1940 although we were not yet in the war. In 1940, it was "Bundles for Britain," as we supported our ally who was at war with Hitler-led Germany. Later I heard tales of how Lucky Strike cigarettes changed the color of their packages from Green to White. The green dye was needed for the war effort, so they came out with the slogan, "Lucky Strike Green has Gone to War.�!

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All industries were geared toward supporting the war needs. I was now four years old and I needed milk, as Dad would say, and selling 7-Up was not getting it done. We were not exactly living high on the hog. I can recall Mom bringing home day-old bread from the bakery, she would soak it in a bowl of milk and she called it "mush." A bowl of mush was our dinner and an apple was desert. The young man who had "clopped the ball" was now a father with responsibilities.!

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Dad drove a cab and did whatever he could to earn money. He drove a cab for a while during this period and he got back in the ring when he was offered as little as $25 to go three rounds of boxing. Soon he realized that he needed to learn a trade, as there were good paying jobs to be had for those who could fill them.!

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So, Dad took a job at a manufacturing facility where he transported wheelbarrows of hot mettle scraps from the punch presses to the scrap bins. There, compactors crushed the scraps into bales of metal to be recycled. At night he would come home with swollen and cut hands to soak in warm water, only to repeat the cycle the next day.

But all the time he was steering that wheelbarrow, he was watching the punch press operator. It wasn't too long before he felt confident that he could do that job.!

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Then he quit that company and signed on with another as a punch press operator. He repeated the process a number of times, each time

learning to do something a little more challenging and higher paying. Ultimately, he met and became friends with Louis Keiser, a tool and dye maker. With Dad's keen mind, ability to quickly master the use of equipment, and Louie's tutorship, Dad became an accomplished tool and dye maker. All of this transition from the wheelbarrows to tool and dye, consumed no more than two years... 1940 - 1942. By the end of that period, the United States had been attacked at Pearl Harbor and we were deep in the throes of war.!

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It was also during this same period that Dad became involved with the union fight for fair working conditions. At that time, the pendulum swing was on the far extreme where management was taking unfair advantage of those anxious to work after having suffered through a depression where jobs were all too few. I remember when we lived on Hallworthy Street in Roxbury; Dad had a big black car. It may have been a Cadillac. It had seats that pulled down from the backs of the front seats - a limo of sorts since it seated nine people. Dad and his cohorts would pile into that big car and drive to union organizational events. Years later, when the pendulum had swung to the opposite extreme and unions were taking advantage of their leverage, Dad remained loyal to the unions of yesteryear.!

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Bob 1942!

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In April of 1942, while living on Hallworthy Street, Mom presented me with a brother Bob. I cannot honestly say I was delighted with this newcomer to the family. Until then, for almost six years, I was the only child in the house. Now, there was this baby that seemed to always be crying. Now they call it colic. I called it unnerving. Worst of all, I was expected to take care of this kid when Mom had to go out of the house. He was either crying or pooping in his diaper, the results of which I was not inclined to deal with unless absolutely necessary. The day did finally come when he stopped crying and managed his pooping, and we did develop a brotherly relationship.!

By 1944, Dad was bringing home a decent salary from his job as a tool & dye maker for General Electric in Lynn. It was while he was working for GE, that security clearance was required for all personnel working on classified government projects.

One project that I recall was the development of the trigger mechanism for the M-l rifle.!

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When a background check was made, Aunt Ida's subtle name changing came to the fore. Alas, he learned that his name was not Sidney, it was Simon. It was not Wolfe but Woolf. That led to new birth certificates for Bob and I so that our names were

spelled the right way. It also meant that the folks had to file for a new marriage certificate registration.!

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But another transformation was taking place at that same time. Dad was watching his friends go off to war while, since he was working on classified government projects, he was deferred from the military draft. The more of his friends that were making the sacrifice, the more that Dad felt guilty that he wasn't doing his share. The only option for him was to resign his job at GE and that is exactly what he did. He took a job as a tool and dye maker for Keystone who made movie projectors, one of which he brought home and we had for many years. We also moved from Hallworthy Street in Roxbury to a house at 45 Norfolk Street in Dorchester that was closer to Keystone and around the corner from Bubby and Papa. It was also the first home that Mom and Dad purchased.!

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Even though Dad was no longer working on high security projects, he was still not drafted. So, he quit Keystone and took over the running of a gas station across the street from our house on Norfolk Street. The gas station was part of a complex of buildings owned by Uncle Jack Woolf. Uncle Jack had his Serv-All Heat and Appliance business there. (Note: That was not the first use of the name Serv-All in our family.

Uncle Jack had also owned a diner that he named, "Serv-All Diner." That was the first.

There was also a "Serv-All Cleaners,�- one of Uncle Jack's many ventures, including a printing business in Baltimore). In this complex of buildings, there were also 20 - 30 single car garages for rent and a large section in back that was leased to Bob Gans, an automobile mechanic.!

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Working with and for Uncle Jack was not one of Dad's better decisions. But it did lead to Dad being drafted into the U.S. Army in 1944. But before he left for the Army, there was a period of time where he and I cemented our relationship as friends rather than father and son.!

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Keep in mind that I was only 20 years younger than he was. There is a greater span of years between me and my brother Steve. Was he my father, my big brother or a friend?

Our relationship became a mixture of those and that became confusing at times.

Frequently, I would make a sarcastic remark as one friend might do to another and that would be the time I would be chastised for being disrespectful to a father. Dad had a way of flipping from one role to another, depending on the situation at hand. Eventually, I got pretty good at sizing up the situations and recognizing the role before I made a mistake.

My mother and father were not inclined to take vacations or even spend a day at the beach. It was just not something they enjoyed doing on their own. But I do recall many times when one family or the other would plan a Sunday picnic. Normanbega Park was a favorite location (now the site of a Sheraton Hotel complex) out in Newton. Notice I say "out in Newton" because in those days it was an excursion to get there.!

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The family would typically go to such an event as a caravan of cars. Barney Bloom and family were close friends who lived across the street from Aunt Ida Schwartz.

Barney would never drive more than 20 miles per hour for to do otherwise was pure recklessness, as far as Barney was concerned. I remember one time when Dad was driving directly behind Barney and was so very frustrated at the slow speed.

Carefully, he touched bumpers and ever so gradually started pushing Barney along.

The speed got up to 30 or so before Dad backed off to avoid a panic on Barney's part.!

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Me and School!

About this time, I started school, just up the street from where we lived. It was an era in the Boston educational system that is best forgotten. I had a couple of problems right off the bat.!

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I wanted to write with my left hand. In those days, anyone left-handed was considered retarded and I remember clearly how they would hit my hand with a ruler (it hurt on the knuckles) forcing me to write with my right hand. I have had ADD all my life but who knew from that back in those days?

My mind wasn't on the same wavelength as my teachers and I just didn't fit into their rather structured way of handling children's development. Or maybe not handling it is more accurate. Either way, when I awoke in the morning, I wasn't excited about the prospects of going to school. Too bad, I probably could have learned something.!

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All female teachers were unmarried. I guess they felt that a married teacher might not be so committed to her profession. Somehow, the same rules didn't apply to men. I had male teachers and administrators. It led to a bunch of frustrated female teachers.!

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In the early years of my schooling, I was revolting. I was not happy with the thought that I was a special needs student (what they call it today). I remember being dismissed each day from my regular school and having to walk about a mile to another school in order to participate in special reading classes that bored me to death. My classmates made fun of me for having need for special attention. Their ridicule cut deep.

There was another storm brewing within me. I came from a home environment where it was not acceptable to release one's emotions if you were a child. You couldn't get mad and you most surely were not allowed to vent in any way.!

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Put these two conditions together and I represented a volatile time-bomb ready to go off at any time. I was constantly in fights and was hardly the ideal student.!

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I remember Aunt Sadie telling the story many years later about the time she visited my school to meet with Sherwin's (her son) teachers. Standing in the playground the teacher said that Sherwin was such a quiet and sweet child to be around. About that time, I came bounding by and the teacher was not aware of the fact that I was related to Aunt Sadie. The teacher continued her statement about Sherwin by saying something like, "Now that one (pointing to me) is a terror." This totally floored Aunt Sadie for she had only known me around the family circles where I minded my p's and q's. I recall at one of my daughter's wedding receptions, Aunt Sadie repeating that story to an amused audience at her table.!

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By the time I had my Bar Mitzvah and we moved to Florida, I was in need of a change. I needed to start all over and promised myself that when I left Boston, I was leaving the fighting behind. It worked.!

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Dad's Army Career!

By the age of 9, I was fully capable of running the gas station and doing almost everything that was required to do. I could pump gas, service and lubricate cars, and change/repair tires, and order inventory. When Dad left for the army, that is exactly what I did while he was gone. The only thing I could not do was write checks and pay the bills. That, Mom did.!

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My typical day was as follows. I would get up early enough in the morning to go across the street and get the gas station opened for business. In the winter, that meant shoveling out the snow as well. I handled the early morning customers until it was time to go to school. At that point, Papa Woolf would arrive and take over during the hours I was gone. After school, I would return to the station and work there until it was time to close. My mother would bring me my supper or I would eat when I got home. After eating, I would do my homework and get to sleep.!

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Dad finally made it into the Service when he was drafted in 1944. He was stationed at Fort Knox, KY where he trained on General Patton's tanks. Keep in mind that Dad was about 27 years of age when he entered the military.

He was considerably older than most recruits were, so it is only logical that he was quickly promoted to the rank of sergeant and put in charge of his younger colleagues.!

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Dad did well and his superiors felt he would better serve as an instructor getting soldiers ready to go into battle than to do go to war himself. That was all well and fine except Dad really wanted to go overseas. Finally, well into 1945, Dad was shipped over in a troop carrier, landing in England. Within a day or so of arriving, he was walking across the grounds and passed a latrine. From the inside he could hear ruckus noise emanating from some guys horsing around. Just as Dad passed the entrance, the door flew open, hitting Dad in the arm. The arm was broken and he was shipped back to the States. By the time the arm healed and he was ready for action, the war was over.!

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Dad was discharged and remained in the Army Reserves for a matter of a few years.

In 1947, he was called back for a short period at Fort Dix, NJ to put in his reserve time. Again, while he was gone, I tended to the gas station.!

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Mom's Activities!

With Dad gone in the service and with Bob just a baby, Mom was pretty well stuck in the house. But she was enterprising enough to where she wished to earn some money and to keep busy. Mom found a mailing house that would pay people to type addresses on envelopes. Every week or two, she would carry boxes of envelopes to Boston on the subway and pick up new sheets of mailing addresses and boxes of blank envelopes. There were some times when I was elected to make the run into Boston. At home, when I had the chance, I would set down at her every present typewriter and address a few envelopes. Every one helped. That is where I learned my hunt-and-peck method of typing that has held me in good stead to this day.!

Mom was always an avid reader but her breadth of material was not that great. She would put Bobby in the carriage and walk up to the Library in Codman Square. She would load down the buggy with books to where you could hardly see Bob. In terms of reading material, they were mostly romance-type reading. Years later, when she could afford to order in monthly magazines, they were typically "Modern Romance," or such.!

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Mom also spent a lot of time during the war years, making scrapbooks and sending them, to servicemen she knew. From all of her magazines, she would cut out cartoons, paste them on construction paper and make them into scrapbooks. Many a returning serviceman thanked Mom for the effort.!

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And as mentioned earlier, Mom took care of the bookwork for the gas station. In those days, most everything of value was rationed As an example, the number of automobile tires one could buy was limited. Those who sold automobile tires had to collect the ration stamps and reports had to be submitted that showed a balance of tires ordered/sold vs. stamps collected. Mom took care of all record keeping, including the ration reports.!

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I recall the sense of loss that was everywhere around me when we learned that the only president I had known to that point in my lifetime, FDR, had died. This man had led the country out of the Great Depression and governed over a nation in the time of war. He failed to see the ultimate victory but he sure planted the seeds for it. It remained for Harry Truman to make the tough decision to use the atomic bomb before peace with Japan finally became a reality.

Chapter 5: Post War to 1950 Uncle Jack and Dad Part Ways!

Dad came home from his Army Reserve duty assignment and settled in again at the gas station on Norfolk Street.

But, the relationship between him and his brother Jack continued to go from bad to worse. It culminated in a fistfight that I can speak of first hand since I was there.!

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Uncle Jack had an oil truck that he used to deliver oil to his customers. The truck had a flat tire that he left with Dad to be repaired. It was cold, people were cold and Uncle Jack was under the gun to get his fuel oil delivered so people would have heat in their homes. The truck was parked in Bob Gans' heated garage and Dad either forgot about fixing the tire or just didn't give it a priority. Finally, late in the day, Uncle Jack came looking for his truck so he could get it out on the streets. The truck wasn't ready and all hell broke loose.!

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Dad quickly fixed the tire and we rolled it back to the garage to mount it on the truck. All the time Dad was working, Uncle Jack was yelling. Dad could have apologized for the delay and maybe that would have calmed Uncle Jack but instead, Dad turned his back and squatted down to mount the wheel on the truck. At that point, Uncle Jack blew his stack and grabbed a block of wood. It looked like he was going to hit Dad with the block, so I yelled, "Dad, look out." Dad spun around and as Uncle Jack swung the block Dad hit him with his fist. The block went flying up in the air. By this time Uncle Jack was laying on the floor and the block came down and hit him above the eye. That gash above his eye left a permanent scar.!

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From that day on, they did not speak to one another. Worse than that, I had a hard time spending much time with my Uncle who I really loved. This went on for many years.

The incident also made it clear that Dad had to do something other than run the gas station. With the war over, the demand for tool and dye makers was all but gone.!

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The Harry James Influence!

I was one of those that heard Harry James play the trumpet and fell in love with the sound. The big bands were still the thing during the war and shortly thereafter. Harry James, Ziggy Ellman, and Louie Armstrong were popular at the time. All I needed to do was (1) get my hands on a trumpet and, (2) learn to play it - all with no money to speak of.

First, I had to accumulate some funds. During the war, I collected discarded cigarette packages, boiled them in water and peeled of the tinfoil that I rolled up in balls and sold to the junkman. I will never forget the look on my mother's face when she came home one day to find me boiling dirty cigarette packages in her best soup pot. I sold newspapers on the corner of Morton Street and Blue Hill Avenue (the same corner my father sold papers as a youngster) and delivered papers as well.!

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I was also known as the Coalman (close to Kalman, my Hebrew name). This came about when I started collecting pieces of coal in my wagon that would fall off the truck as they left the coal yard. I found that I could sell coal to neighbors who had coal-burning heating systems. I recruited friends who helped collect the coal in their wagons. Soon I had more demand than I had product, so I climbed a tree the trucks passed under. At the appropriate time, I would push a limb down and scoop off more coal. I would come home black from the sooty coal and that is when my Bubby started calling me Coalman.!

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It was my own Uncle Jack who contributed to the demise of that business. Serv-All Heat and Appliance specialized in converting the coal burning furnaces to oil burners. So I had to redirect my talents. I was small enough to climb inside the furnace a scrape off the soot while others on Uncle Jack's crew were doing the conversion to oil. Somehow I managed to go from one sootcollecting task to soot-disposal. And, Uncle Jack paid better, to boot.!

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If there was a way of making money on the side, I found it. Finally, I had amassed $25.00 that was just enough to purchase a used Wurlitzer Cornet. We could not afford music lessons. The best thing I could do was trial and error, learning to play by ear.!

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How I accomplished this fete borders on petty crime. In those days, the corner drug store would typically have a revolving rack with sheet music displayed thereon. These would be the popular tunes of the day. I would sneak a copy under my coat and take it home. There, I would meticulously copy it onto paper, note by note. Then I would return the music to the drug store. Now, looking back on it, I cannot help but believe that the drug store owner knew what I was doing and turned a blind eye to it as long as it didn't cost him anything. It was his contribution to the creation of a musician...of sorts. Who knows, if I became famous, he would have been able to brag about his part in my success.!

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At home I knew what the popular song sounded like. I experimented until I found the fingering on the trumpet for each note. Once found, I would write it (1-3, 1-2, etc.) beneath the note. In this way, I learned what fingering went with which notes.

Somehow, it worked. To this day, I cannot sight-read music. But I could play by ear.!

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Later I gained sufficient ability to play in my high school band. Harry James passed away without encountering any serious competition from me.!

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Harvard Repair Shop!

No matter what Dad attempted to repair, he found a way. Following the break-up between Uncle Jack and Dad, Mom had the idea of a repair shop. So Dad rented a store of Harvard Street, not too far from where Aunt Ida Schwartz lived on Glenway Street. He called it the Harvard Repair Shop. He moved all of his woodworking machinery and tools into the cellar of the store and then started advertising his service. Little by little, people came by with this or that, hoping it could be fixed.!

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Dad installed new heating elements in toasters, fixed screen doors that were letting in mosquitoes, and of course, mended broken furniture. Little by little, his skill became known in the neighborhood and the business grew. By the end of a year, he was actually earning a living and best of all, enjoying himself. I also think he took a quiet pleasure in showing the world that another Woolf could be an entrepreneur.!

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Knights of Pythias!

Those years in our section of Boston following the war could not be described without making some reference to the Knights of Pythias, a fraternal order that along with the Masons were the more popular men's lodges of the time. For young men of the Jewish faith, it was the K of P that attracted them the most. Uncle Jack Kahan, Uncle Max and Dad were members of the Daniel Webster Lodge and almost all of our social activity was somehow connected to their events. Even my Bar Mitzvah dinner was held at the Lodge hall.!

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Dad took active parts in their ritual sessions, played softball on the Lodge team (you guessed it ... I was the batboy), and performed in the plays the lodge put on as social functions. I remember Dad playing the part of the bartender in "Gold in the Hills." It seemed as though anyone Dad interacted with outside of work had to do in some way with the Lodge.

One night, after a meeting, Dad left the Lodge Hall and came across a fellow member with a flat tire and no spare. Dad helped his Lodge brother get the tire fixed and sent him on his way. That Lodge brother was Leo Benatuil and that was the beginning of a relationship that spanned many years. It also led to me ultimately meeting Leo's daughter, Anita.!

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One evening, Leo and Sarah came to visit at our home on Norfolk Street. I was about 9 or 10 years old at the time. They brought their daughter Anita along with them.

My father told me to "entertain" the young lady. I didn't know if that meant doing a soft-shoe dance or telling a joke. All I remember was inviting her out onto the porch where we talked. We couldn't have covered anything of consequence that I am aware of, but I sure sweated out the entire evening in a total state of awkwardness.!

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As it turned out, I spent a good bit of time with Leo. He was an electrician and at that time the Norwood area outside of Boston was being developed as part of the post-war residential building boom. Leo would do the wiring of houses that were being built and when he complained to Dad that he couldn't get help, I was volunteered. So I learned how to climb the rafters of houses like a monkey, hauling uncoiled wire behind me as we roughed in the electrical service. I never progressed in the learning process to where I could do anything more than schlep wire.!

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Welcome Arthur Norman (1947)!

In February 1947, Arthur Norman Woolf made his appearance. He was born with red hair and it was very curly. As he grew the red went away and the day finally came when Mom relented to have his curls cut.

When it grew back in, the curls were also gone.

Fortunately, I am pleased to report that Arthur was not as colic-prone as Bob had been. In fact he wasn't a bad baby at all, as babies go.!

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As was the case between Bob, and me there was 5-6 year difference in age between Bob and Arthur. Now Bob would have the responsibility of looking after his younger brother and I hoped it would keep him busy and out of my hair. No such luck.

My Bar Mitzvah (1949)!

My Bar Mitzvah service was conducted at the same Schule where my father had been the first. Yes, Dad was the first Bar Mitzvah at the Chevra Shas Schule and now, many years later he returned there for his son's big day at the pulpit. It was called the "Cellar Schule" because when it was build, they ran out of funding after the cellar had been finished. With the likelihood of never raising sufficient funding to finish the construction originally planned, they simply put a roof over what they had and it remained that way.!

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On Saturday night, a reception was held at the K of P Hall on Washington Street. Aunt Ida Ashman had a major role in preparing the food for the occasion. This was before it was fashionable to have expensive catered affairs as it is now. !

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At that affair, one of a kind pictures were taken. To my knowledge, it was the last time one photo was taken of my two sets of grandparents together. Also a picture was taken of Bubby and Papa's four children with their respective spouses. As it turned out, that was also the last such picture taken of them as a group. Our family moved to Tampa and Uncle Hy died three years later. It was also the first major family event without my cousin Murray and I missed him.!

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Months before, in the summer of 1949, we drove to Tampa to visit Bubby and Zadie.

On the way, we stopped in Orlando to see Charlotte and Harry Herlick. Charlotte is Aunt Ida Ashman's eldest child and at that time was living in Orlando. As she opened the door, we knew something was wrong. Only minutes before she had received a phone call informing her that Murray had died. He had fought his final day for a long time and got the most out of the life he did live. My pseudo older brother would forever by a fond memory.

Marty Kahan's Bar Mitzvah (1950)!

Marty was Uncle Jack Kahan's second of three sons. In addition to marking his arrival at a manly point in his life, his Bar Mitzvah also served as a decision point that led to our move to Tampa, FL. Bubby rode up to Boston by bus for the occasion. !

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Bubby and Zadie had been living in Tampa and were set to make that their home for the remainder of their lives. However, the separation of miles between Bubby and my mother was not an easy one. Dad would tell how Mom would wake up in the middle of the night crying and sure enough, a day or so later, we would receive word that Bubby had a fall or some other incident. The bond between them was that tight.!

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So it came to pass that one day, we were all sitting around the living room on Norfolk Street when Dad asked Mom the question, "Josie, how would you like to move to Tampa?" The response was immediate and positive. At that point Dad turned to Bubby and said, "Ma, what do you say that I drive you back to Tampa." And that is how the decision was made.!

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Bubby had taken a bus from Tampa to attend the Bar Mitzvah, so a ride back in the car would not take any longer. Dad and I went over to the shop on Harvard Street and loaded all his tools and machinery in the car. That old 1948 Chevy had its bumper dragging as they left. The Harvard Repair Shop was closed and Dad took off for Tampa in search of a job and a new life. He planned to find employment and a place to live before sending for us.!

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Chapter 6: 1950 Through 1960

The Move to Tampa!

Dad and Bubby arrived in Tampa and Dad immediately set about finding employment.

He quickly landed a job with Tropi-Tone Furniture, a furniture re-upholstering and refinishing company. They had need for someone to do the physical repair of furniture before the upholstering or refinishing could begin. The fact that Dad could bring in his own equipment and tools didn't hurt the decision-making process a bit.!

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Dad sent for us to come to Tampa and the trip was not an easy one. It began with my first airplane ride but it was a short experience. Bobby got airsick before we were fifty feet off the ground. The sight, sound and results of Bobby's discomfort encouraged Arthur to follow suit. Mom assigned me the responsibility of tending to Bob while she held Arthur on her lap. In those days, there were no non-stop flights. Instead there was a series of short hops. By the time we arrived in Raleigh, NC, Mom made the decision that the remainder of the trip would be made by train. I applauded the idea (anything to stop Bob from puking all over me) even though it meant leaving that airplane.!

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I remember getting off the train in Tampa and walking out of the train terminal. The first thing that hit me was what I perceived as intense heat. It was and has remained intense. I recall wondering if I could ever become accustomed to it. The same building that Bubby and Zadie lived in had a vacant two-bedroom apartment. It meant the three boys would be in one room, but it was at least a roof over our heads. That provided us a place to move into while a more suitable arrangement could be made.!

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Of course, our move to Tampa was not really complete until we had a house of our own. The folks found a wooden shack of a house on Knights Avenue. The end of the street our house was located on was not paved and when you rode along the dirt-covered surface it felt like a washboard. The place was so dilapidated that Arthur was kept busy chasing his toys across the uneven floor that sloped in one direction. The bedrooms were so small there was hardly enough room for more than a bed and one dresser. The doorways were so narrow they had no doors. Curtains were used to provide some visual privacy. But any verbal discussions or other noises could hardly be kept private.

Dad and I found an old water tank, painted it black and we hauled it up on the roof.

Dad's idea (ahead of its time) was to route the water through that tank so the sun would preheat it A family of boys, we had an open shower in the back of the house that utilized the preheated water. My room was on the back porch, screened to keep out the mosquitoes. While I had fresh air at night compared to the non-air conditioned interior space, when it rained I was a little more moist there, than where others in the family were housed. I recall pulling the covers over my head to keep my face dry.!

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I had started school while we lived on Lemon Street with Bubby and Knights Avenue was on the other side of town. The decision was made to let me finish my last year of Junior High School where I was and start the next year at H.B. Plant High School.

Dad drove a company truck home from work. In the mornings, I would put my bike on the back of the truck and he would drop me off at school. I would ride it on the long way home in the afternoon.!

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Murray Bruce (1951)!

In August 1951, along came Murray Bruce, my third brother. Murray was named after my cousin who had died a few years earlier. Mom and Dad continued the pattern of spacing the boys 5-6 years apart. Murray's pending arrival on the scene was growing evidence (pun) that the house on Knights Avenue would no longer satisfy the needs of our family. That led us to a nicer, roomier house at 4220 Santiago Street in Tampa and also close to H.B. Plant High School. It was a three-bedroom, one-bath house that had level floors. Bob and I shared one bedroom, Arthur and Murray shared another, and of course, the third one was Mom and Dad’s.!

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The High School Years!

My high school years were full of activity but not necessarily the best for my personal development. H.B. Plant High School is located on South Dale Mabry Highway, a road that was originally installed during the war years to connect McDill Air Force Base with the Army's Drew Field. In early 1951, Dad bought a lot of land in Drew Park that still had on it, an old barracks building and a latrine. These two structures became the home of Serv-All Furniture Service, a re-upholstering and refinishing company. Within a year, another barracks building was added and was used for the upholstery wing.

When I wasn't in class, or in either band or football practice, I was at the shop helping out. How did I get from school to the shop?

I hitch hiked up Dale Mabry Highway. After my 16th birthday, I bought a car for $75, a 1940 Studebaker coupe. The trunk lid was so rusted I had to weld it shut to keep it from flying open. Thereafter, going in behind the driver's seat accessed the trunk space. It was the perfect configuration for sneaking people into the drive-in theater.!

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In that era in Florida, a finish was applied to old furniture by sandblasting the old material off the surface. This also opened the grain, making it ready for a unique type of lacquer grained finish. I learned to do the sandblasting. After arriving from school each afternoon I would sandblast furniture until it got too dark to continue and I would leave them enough to work on the next day.!

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By the time I graduated from high school in 1954 I had already made my first sales calls, had learned to repair and refinish furniture and was well on the way to acquiring upholstery skills as well. Lost in all of this was my development as a socially educated and developed individual. I could do wonders with furniture but could do nothing in the way of social interchange.!

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In Boston, I had attended all boy school classes. I did not know how to mingle with those of the opposite gender. When I arrived in Tampa, I was unprepared for coed classes. In addition, my father had stated many times that the only school worth while is the college of hard knocks. So I was intent on not becoming one of those "smart ass college kids." I took shop classes, not college preparatory studies. It is not hard to imagine just how many girl classmates I encountered in wood shop.!

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One bright spot in my high school years was being part of the school band. I managed at one point to earn the first trumpet seat The band leader would sing me my solos and I could play them after that, since I could not sight read music well enough to do so on my own. When we went into band contests, I would slide in to the second seat so that I would not have to site-read any solos in competition.

I graduated with a General Education High School Diploma in 1954. At the graduation, as I accepted my diploma, I looked into the audience and spotted my father.

When he saw he had my attention, he took his finger and first pointed to the skin on his arm, and then he pointed at his teeth. That was his way of telling me I had made it by the skin of my teeth. What a confidence builder.!

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Aunt Ida Ashman Comes to Tampa!

In October 1952, Uncle Hy was the victim of a fatal accident in his workshop in Lynn. In those days, prior to the common use of butane, gasoline torches were used. A plunger was used to create internal pressure on the gasoline and as it sprayed out it could be ignited as a torch. At one point the plunger had started to leak and he had soldered it back in place.!

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On that fateful day in 1952, he was using the torch in his workshop to soften putty on a window he was repairing. The repaired plunger gave way under the pressure and the gasoline sprayed out all over him. He was quickly ablaze and suffered internal as well as external burns. Within a day or so in the hospital, he passed away. Aunt Ida happened to look out the front window when Uncle Hy came running out into the yard in flame. It was an image that she would never forget.!

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After losing her son and her husband within a span of three years, Aunt Ida chose to physically move away from all that would remind her of her losses on a daily basis.

She sold the property in Lynn and moved to Tampa.!

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Aunt Ida's Influence on our Family!

Never let it be said that Aunt Ida was a student of tact. If she had a thought, it came out with little regard for its appropriateness or impact. Such was the case when she began verbalizing to Mom on how a woman needs to speak up. Until that point, Mom had played the role of the traditional wife, supporting and following the husband's lead.!

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When Aunt Ida came to Tampa, we were living on Santiago Street We had moved from Knights Avenue after Mom had became pregnant and it was apparent that the little house with slanted floors would no longer be adequate for our family needs.!

To that point, Mom had played the traditional role of wife and supporter of the leader of the family. Dad made most decisions and Mom supported them...even when she didn’t agree. With Aunt Ida on the scene, all of a sudden my mother became far more verbal. It wasn't soon before Mom would openly challenge Dad on issues. Arguments became more common between the two of them. Ultimately, the house on Santiago Street would no longer be appropriate nor roomy enough (particularly with Aunt Ida moved in with us) and that would lead to the family moving to the Hyde Park side of town on S. Boulevard.!

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Marriage is a partnership and there is obviously nothing wrong with shared decision making. It is the right way of doing things. Right or wrong, it was just not the model by which they had lived since 1935 when they were married. All of a sudden, the rules had changed for my father and he resisted it the only way he knew how. He bellowed, he roared and yes, he sometimes lost physical control. He never did the physical damage his namesake did to Bubby's brother. But his actions often did as much psychological damage to his children.!

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Every one of his children feared the time when he might erupt, losing his temper over the least foreseen event. We all walked on eggshells. We never invited a friend home for fear of what Dad might do or say. For me that wasn't much of a problem for I only had one or two friends. But for my brothers, as they grew up, it was a major issue.!

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In all, I think little Murray suffered the most from what went on around him in his early formative years. By the time he was three or four years old he had witnessed loud arguments (where he simply cowered in a corner until it subsided). Aunt Ida took Murray over (he was named for her son) and often defied Dad when he was trying to discipline Murray. The poor child didn't know what end was up. I remember one time when Dad was going to spank Murray for something he had done. Aunt Ida threw her sizable body over the child and yelled at Dad, "You'll hit him over my dead body!" Considering her size and weight, Murray might have done better with a spanking.!

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Having said all this, I would not be too quick to lay all of Mom's change at the feet of Aunt Ida. There is no doubt that she had some influence on Mom, to put it mildly.

But it is also quite probable that after many years of keeping everything balled up within her, Mom would

have finally broke out and done so without Aunt Ida's presence. But there is no question in my mind that the nature of the relationship between my mother and father changed in that period and to some degree Aunt Ida played a part in that transformation.!

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Enter Anita!

In the summer prior to my senior year, on my birthday August 27, I went to the drive-in movie with my brother Bob (wild birthday celebration). When I returned home, there was a car parked in front of the house with Massachusetts plates. Upon entering the house, I immediately recognized Leo Benatuil and his wife Sarah. I found my mother in the kitchen and asked her, "Don't they have a daughter?" "Yes," she answered, "she is in the bathroom and her name is Anita.�!

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It should be noted that when I had first met Leo's daughter years before in Boston, I was not of an age where girls held any attraction for me. This was not now the case as Anita emerged from the bathroom that day in August 1952. They had stopped in Tampa to visit Jo and Cy on their way to Miami on vacation.

After returning to Boston, Anita and I corresponded my mail. Little did either one of us know that the two fathers had talked about the Benatuil family moving to Tampa.!

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When it was all over and done with, they did move the following year and purchased a house diagonally across from ours on Santiago Street. I cannot say that Anita was pleased with the move away from all of her friends in Boston. I had just had a brief infatuation with a girl who had no real interest in me and as hurt as I was, I had no desire to get involved with another girl. Yet, my father made it clear that it was my responsibility to befriend Anita as she moved into a new school and community.

Reluctantly, I assumed that responsibility.!

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Every morning I picked Anita up and she rode with me to Plant High School. And every Saturday night, I would take her to the drive-in movie. As it turned out, when we started going to the drive-in together, I sat on one side behind the steering wheel and she sat on the other side of the car against the passenger door. Over time, the distance between us began to shrink until finally, the space between us was no more.

By the time we graduated from high school in 1954, our relationship was cemented... destined to be shared as a couple. I thought I loved her and she thought she loved me. It was only after many years living together that we learned what true love is and that a relationship is an on-going work in progress. Anita left Tampa for Miami and nursing school at Jackson Memorial Hospital. I reported for full-time work at Serv-All Furniture Service.!

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Leo Passes Away!

In 1955, Leo Benatuil entered the hospital and failed to leave it alive. His heart gave out. Part of my grieving came as a result of having known him for many years and considered him a friend.

But I also knew how much his passing affected Anita. They had that special father-daughter relationship I would someday experience myself. "Neecy" as he called her, was the proverbial apple of his eye. And she adored him.!

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I had heard the stories of how he would take her to the World Fair and stage shows in New York City.

Around Christmas time, he would take her for rides along the Jamaica Way to see the houses that had been decorated for the holidays. In the summer, when it was hot and they could not sleep, they would ride out to the beach in Quincy and enjoy the cooler breezes. They shared so many experiences that would forever remain a bond between them. He was self-educated and was instrumental in planting within Anita the respect and need for knowledge. He was an avid reader and so has she been as long as I can recall. Nothing pleased Leo more than to see Anita graduate from high school salutatorian of her class.!

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Leo's body was prepared for shipment back to Boston for burial. I stood on the tarmac at the airport next to his coffin waiting for the loading to begin. I remember promising him at that time that I would always look out for his Neecy. I have since committed myself to fulfilling that promise. At this writing, we have been married for over 48 years.

Military Service!

For one year following high school graduation, I worked at Serv-All. All the while, the military draft loomed over my shoulder as I faced life after high school. It was a time in our country's history that lay between the Korean Conflict and the Viet Nam War. I had a choice of waiting for the draft (into the Army) or enlisting for four years and having a choice of the branch of service I would enter. As it turned out, my decision was made easy.!

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The U.S. Navy was low in personnel count following the Korean Conflict and so, in late 1955, the Navy participated for a few short months in the military draft along with the Army. This presented me with an opportunity to volunteer for the draft and only be obligated to a two-year enlistment as opposed to the normal four-year hitch. From my perspective the Navy meant always having a clean bed to sleep in, three square meals per day, and no foxholes. I was drafted into the U.S. Navy in November 1955.!

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I was shipped to Bainbridge Maryland for boot camp. It is cold there in the mountains of Maryland between November and February. It was also a humbling experience guarding a close line at three in the morning, armed with a wooden rifle and scrubbing floors with a toothbrush. I learned to take orders from men younger than I and of lesser intelligence. I scored high on all my testing and was offered Officer Candidate School that included a college education, if I would increase my engagement to a six-year commitment. Not I, for I had Serv-All Furniture to get back to.

I didn't know enough to fully appreciate the opportunity that was and as a result, never gave it serious consideration.

Years later when I was faced with financing my education, this decision would be viewed regretfully.!

After boot camp, I was assigned to the USS Hugh Purvis, DD 709... a destroyer that had been commissioned in 1939 that operated out of our Naval Station in Newport RI. I was soon aboard my new home, an hour's ride from Boston. I bought a 1946 Chevrolet for $50 and used it throughout my hitch to transport me to and from Boston, whenever I was off duty.!

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My job, as a damage control man, was to keep the ship afloat should it ever be successfully attacked. I was sent to damage control school where I learned such skills

as fire fighting, welding, and emergency procedures. !

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I reported aboard on a Sunday and on Monday morning we departed for Bermuda. I quickly learned that if I skipped the sugar in my coffee, I could avoid seasickness. To this day, I drink my coffee black. My first assignment was to climb up to the top of the mast (while we were underway) and weld a speed wind indicator in the proper position.!

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For one who has never enjoyed heights, it was quite a challenge. Not only did I have to climb up there with the ship rolling in the ocean, but I had to carry the indicator with me and pull the electric cable from the welding unit as well.!

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My tour in the Navy was, for the most part, a learning experience. I was able to visit most of the world from the Mid-East to South America and points between. I was able to see first hand how much of the world lives and came to respect how fortunate we are in our country. Our way of life is worth fighting for and those of us who have served in the military can feel some measure of satisfaction in having done so.!

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Throughout my time in the Navy, I missed Anita. I brought my trumpet on board. Many a night I sat on the fantail of the ship, playing songs she liked and thinking of her. As I played, the sound would drift off the ship behind us so that it disturbed no one. The salt spray did a number on the horn's finish such that I had to get it relacquered when we got back to the States. But that was an easy price to pay for the therapeutic value it had for me.!

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In many ways, I feel as though there are some distinct disadvantages in not having the military draft any longer.

For one point, it is a maturing experience that young people can benefit from learning to respect authority (not blind obedience), developing self-confidence, assuming responsibility for one's own actions, and acquiring leadership skills.!

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I believe that without the draft, the primary source of volunteers is from low-income groups who have limited employment skill. These individuals also tend to have less

education and this has to have an affect on the quality of military. When you add that phenomenon to an administration that is prone to taking military action, you get a dangerous combination: an administration that gets us into conflicts and a weakened military that has trouble getting us out.!

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The draft in 1955 resulted in more personnel than were actually needed by the Navy.

As I approached the end of my two-year hitch, I was offered early discharge if I met any one of a number qualifiers. One was if you were needed by your family to provide income and with a family business to go back to, I was approved for discharge three months early. My birthday present in 1957 was my discharge. Bobby had come up to Boston for his summer vacation. That coincided with Anita finishing her three-month psychiatric affiliation (the last part of her nursing curriculum) work in Townsand, Maryland. So she came up to Boston and the three of us drove back to Tampa together.!

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As a side note, I bought that Chevy for $50, used it the whole time I was in the service, drove round-trip shuttles between Newport and Boston. I charged $1 per trip for shipmates (who had family in Boston) to ride with me and by the time I left the service, I had saved over three hundred dollars. But we did not leave Boston in that car.!

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Uncle Jack Woolf took a shine to Anita the first time they met. He told her she could do better than me for a husband, and told me I was one lucky guy. In one of the car stalls that he rented out, an old car was left when the owner died without any heirs.

Essentially it was abandoned with back rent owed to Uncle Jack, so he took possession of it and gave it to... you guessed it... Anita who at that time didn't even have a drivers license. I was allowed to drive it but he made it clear that it was her car. !

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Uncle Jack made out a bill of sale that I sent to my father in Florida. He registered the car (in Anita's name) and sent us the license plates. Upon receiving them we departed for Florida with two mounted spare tires strapped to the roof that I had gotten from Uncle Brem (Aunt Sadie's husband) who had a junk yard in Norfolk, MA. I traded my old Chevy for the tires and rims. As it turned out, we used both spares before arriving in Tampa.

Our Wedding!

Anita's graduation from nursing school and my release from the military coincided very nicely. Another factor was that her last three months were spent in Maryland doing her psychiatric affiliation. While being processed out in Newport, I was able to meet her in Boston that, for her, was a short bus ride.!

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It made a lot of sense for us to be married in Boston while we were both in the area. Her mother, Sarah, had moved back to Boston following Leo's death. Her brother Sherwin was also in Boston. And what girl doesn't want to be married with her life-long friends in attendance? And isn't it customary for the wedding to be held in the hometown of the bride? Not so in my family.!

My mother was pregnant and due in January, 1958. Because of this, we were told that she couldn't make the trip to Boston and the wedding had to be in Tampa. Before we knew it, my mother was making all the plans and it was a done deal. Worse, I wasn't wise enough to know what was right in such instances, and did my best to influence Anita to give in to my mother's wishes. It never registered with me that in doing so, we were denying Sarah the opportunity to marry off her daughter... something she had been saving for over the years. !

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Sarah did attend. Sherwin did not and Anita had to rely on a distant cousin to come up from Miami to "give the bride away" at the wedding.!

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We got married and Dad loaned us his DeSoto (for you young people, that was the make of car in those days) and we were off to St. Petersburg for our "honeymoon." Why St. Petersburg? It was close, it was inexpensive, and I had to be back to work at Serv-All in a couple of days.!

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Normally a girl's wedding day is the happiest of her life, at least to that point. In Anita's case, that was hardly the case on December 1, 1957. But things would get better. After all, she had me.

Steven Herbert (1958)!

A month later, in January 1958, Steven Herbert Woolf made his appearance. Prior to becoming pregnant with Steve, Mom had a miscarriage and as it turned out, it would have been a girl. While Steve had been somewhat of a noticeably prominent attendee at our wedding, we were pleased to see him born healthy. Once again, there was a 5-6 year span between the boys.!

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Mom and Dad had it in mind that after our wedding we would live in their house on South Boulevard. This discussion took place while I was still in the Navy.

Fortunately, we had enough gumption (more Anita than me) to turn that idea down flat. By the time we returned to Tampa, the folks had moved from South Boulevard to South Newport. -a mere two blocks away. The houses were similar in many ways, so why did they do it? !

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The Newport house had a garage in back with what had been servants quarters above it. If we wouldn't live in their house with them, they felt we could have the apartment in back. That decision they made without consulting us. In that period between my August discharge from the Navy and our wedding day, I worked on the "apartment." The first task was to beat my way through the cobwebs and survey the situation. It had a kitchen area, a living room and two small bedrooms separated by a closet. The bedrooms were so small that in one there was a bed and in the other there were two dressers.!

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I formulated a crew that consisted of Bobby, little Arthur, even smaller Murray and myself. Together, we tore out the walls that closed in the closet, making one larger bedroom. The boys had a blast swinging hammers, knocking out the plaster, wire mesh, and lathing. In the living room there was a small alcove that I closed in for a closet. We painted throughout the apartment and made a reasonable acceptable place to live. The dark blue walls in the bedroom, as it turned out, did not score very high with Anita. !

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The fact that there was no source of warmth in the winter months other than body heat led to us spending most of our time there in bed. At least that was one reason for heading in that direction.

One Big Regret!

On November 27,1958 my Bubby passed away in Boston. My father insisted that I had to stay behind and run the business rather than go to Boston for the funeral. Obedient as I had been raised to be, I agreed to do so ... a decision I have regretted to this day.!

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There was a side of Bubby that never became so apparent as when she died. One of my biggest regrets is that I wasn't able to attend her funeral. What I learned of that week of "Shivah" (mourning) was told to me by my father.!

To begin with, the cars in the funeral procession went as far as the eyes could see.

People came that were total strangers to her children. But it was in Bubby's home, while sitting "Shivah" that the stories were told. One woman from Chelsea (the other side of Boston) told Dad how her husband was injured and couldn't work. Bubby heard about the situation (how, no one knows) and brought food to them using the subway for transportation. This was only one of many stories that were told that week by people who referred to her as an angel.!

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Another tale that came of that week had to do with me. Dad said that one thing happened that had everyone dumbfounded. In going through Bubby's dresser they came upon a handkerchief wrapped around a handful of dirt. No one could figure out what such a package would be doing in her dresser drawer. When I heard about it, I immediately began to laugh.!

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When I was in the Navy, Israel and Egypt were at war and we were sent in to take out American citizens from Haifa. It was my first and only time on Israeli soil. I was the engineer on the boat running shuttles between the dock and our ship. On one trip in, I ran the length of the dock to where there was soil, and grabbed a handful that I put in my pocket. Upon returning to the States, I gave that soil to Bubby so she would have a piece of Israel. It should have been placed in her coffin, had they known.!

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No one could ever tell me what became of that little footstool she sat on every day, reading the Jewish newspaper by the front window. I had made that footstool as my first woodworking class project.!

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Any reader of this document could not possibly miss the close relationship I had with my Bubby. Even with her faults, and she had those, she was one grand lady and I loved her dearly. And I missed saying goodbye.

Mollie (1959)!

By late 1958, Anita was well into her first pregnancy and was obviously in that state when Bubby died. Naturally, we decided that we would name the baby after Bubby and if it were a girl, it would be a new Mollie Woolf in the world.!

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The latter case occurred in May 1959. There was such a short time between Bubby's passing and Mollie's birth; it was a little hard for some people to accept. I recall Aunt Sadie snapping her head around when she heard reference to Mollie. Papa Woolf had a similar reaction at first.!

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The expected arrival of Mollie on the scene provided us with all the reason in the world to move out of the small apartment over the garage. Any excuse to get away from the bedroom with dark blue walls would do.!

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At this time, Bob was in now a student at Plant High School. As Anita approached the end of her pregnancy, Bob became more anxious. You would have thought he was the father rather than the uncle. Between each class, he would call her to find out how she was doing. Anita was truly his big sister and she loved him as a kid brother. The three of us had done many things together. Bob was Mollie's first baby sitter.!

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Bob learned to drive in Anita's car (the one Uncle Jack had given her). He took his driving test in it and she loaned it to him on many occasions to go out on a date. That is until he rearended a car driven by a pregnant woman. The car was totaled and not worth fixing.

Fortunately that was before the time when such an accident would be the basis for a lawsuit.!

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The folks still owned the three-bedroom house on Santiago Street. In truth, they had not been able to sell it at the $8,000 price they were asking. So, we agreed to buy it from the folks. Again, I was naive. It didn't occur to me that the reason it hadn't sold was that no one was willing to pay Dad's price for it. When we applied to the bank for a mortgage, they were not willing to loan us enough to buy it. The most they would appraise it at was $6,000.00. Did that tell me anything? No, Dad wanted me to buy the house off of him and I was going to obediently do so. So, Dad offered to take a second mortgage on the house that covered the difference between what the bank would finance and the selling price.!

No sooner than we moved in, we learned that the house required a completely new roof installed. It also had to be tented and fumigated for termites. This put us even further in debt. Good bad or indifferent, we moved and when Mollie arrived, she had her own room.!

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Since just before Mollie was born, Anita had not been working. We had to get by on my salary, which was not very high. We were barely breaking even, by paying off the loans and normal living expenses. One day I came home and found Anita crying. She had been projecting how many years we would have to go at this rate before we were out from under these additional loans. It was in fact a depressing analysis.!

!

So, we decided to put Mollie in a nursery school and Anita would go back to work. My parents were adamant that we should not put the baby in a nursery. For one of the first times in my life, I didn't give in to their pressure and stood up to my parents. Mollie spent the better part of three years at that nursery and she was on the sidewalk outside of the nursery when she and her classmates waved flags at John F. Kennedy as his caravan passed by two days before he was assassinated in Dallas. !

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From that point forward, we dedicated Anita's full salary (less the nursery fees) to making extra payments on the loans and thus, speeding up the pay-off process. After some time, our termite-free house with a new roof belonged only to the bank and us.!

It has been quite a ten-year period. It began as we moved to Tampa, included two new brothers coming into the world, saw Anita and I graduated from high school, spanned my time in the Navy and hers in nursing school, and peaked with our marriage, buying our first home, and the birth of our first child.!

! ! ! !

Chapter 7: 1960 Through 1970 Throughout most of the time discussed thus far, I have not paid much attention to a very important topic... me. By that, I mean that part of me related to personal self worth, feelings of adequacy, selfconfidence, etc. In truth, that same common denominator that I described earlier in the Woolf family ran through me as well. And in fact, it ran through many of my brothers. They say that many high achievers lack selfconfidence and that success comes about because they feel they have something to prove. I can attest to that.!

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With me, as the new decade began, I lacked a lot of self-confidence. Sure, I was good at what I did at Serv-All Furniture Service. I managed to open the doors early every morning. I made enough sales to pay the bills and make a little profit for the company.

But financially, and from a personal standpoint, I was not making any progress. I got paid as much as I needed and no more. Supposedly, some day the business would be mine and then I would reap the fruits of all the effort. At least that was Dad's position whenever the subject came up of my need for a greater salary.!

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The concept of a payoff coming down the road is good in principle, but in reality, it is something else. At the same time, Dad was saying that the business would provide jobs for his boys. Bob, he was already projecting, would run the office and take care of the books. So the business wouldn't really be mine, would it. And would the boys grow up to be individuals that could work together in harmony, who knows? So it boiled down to how I felt at the time. We all want to feel like we are making progress on a daily basis... not as though you are on a treadmill going nowhere in particular.!

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The Fire!

In January 1962, fate took a strong hand through one event that shaped the direction of my life. One day, I left the shop with a truck loaded with deliveries to be made in South Tampa. We had a radio in the truck and I would usually call into the office after each stop. Since I made the sales calls, we often found that a call had come into the office from a home in the very same area I was making a delivery. So I would call in and check. This practice had often saved me an extra trip.

On this particular day, I called in after my last delivery. Mom was in the office with little Stevie and she told me to come on back, there were no messages. !

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It took about 20 minutes to arrive at the corner of Dale Mabry Highway and Columbus Drive... perhaps a mile from the shop. At that point we could see smoke and I told Blackie, the young man who was riding with me, that the shop was on fire. He asked me how I knew from that far away and I told him that I just knew.!

Sure enough, as we got closer to the shop, the traffic was such that we could not move any further. I parked the truck on the side of the road and ran the remainder of the way, cutting in and arriving at the rear of the building that was ablaze. As I approached the building, there was a crowd of people in the way. I spotted Speed, the owner of a neighboring motel, and asked him if he knew the whereabouts of my father. He thought that he was still in the building. Without thinking much about what I was doing I headed into the building through a large garage door through which our trucks could fit.!

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In the eave, above that garage door was a large exhaust fan housed in a steel frame.

The blades created a fan of about 4-6 feet in diameter. When we installed it, we used a block and tackle to hoist it up there and it was very heavy. As I rushed into the doorway, I could feel intense heat. I could see a metal sewing machine base that was red hot and melting. Just as I cleared the doorway, I heard my father whistle from outside. He was in that crowd of people and I had not seen him. At the sound of his whistle, I turned quickly to head back outside. I took one step and the exhaust fan fell in the exact spot I had been standing on microseconds before.!

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After the fire had been extinguished and for days thereafter, we assessed the situation. One wall of the large portion of the building was intact. Everything else was gone. Only one of our insurance policies would pay off because the rest had lapsed.

Dad blamed our insurance agent for not notifying us that they were due. The insurance agent swore he had and we had ignored the notice.!

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We sifted through the ashes and found tools that could still be used, some needed new wood handles but they were salvageable. The big question to be answered was whether or not we wanted to rebuild and was it worth it. As the days passed, we

received encouraging letters from our customers encouraging us to stay in business and wishing us good fortune.!

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My Decision!

I remember Uncle Jack Woolf asking me, "What do you get out of fixing furniture?" I answered along the lines of, "I get a lot of satisfaction out of taking broken bits of junk and making them into a serviceable piece of furniture." His response consisted of one word that I shall not repeat here in writing. It meant, "Baloney." He then went on to say something that I have never forgotten.!

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Paraphrased he said that, "The satisfaction of the kind he had in mind was what you feel when you have utilized the best of your skill and potential while achieving an elevated goal or objective." He quickly pointed out that I didn't even know what my potential was and hadn't established any goals, so how could I possibly be satisfied.

Wow. This was heavy thinking and it meant that I needed the answer to some questions. Now, following the fire, those answers were even more necessary as I looked to my future.!

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For some time, Anita had been encouraging me to take some college courses. Uncle Jack Woolf had originally started pushing me in that direction and Anita reinforced the idea. Friends of ours also suggested in a nice way that I needed to make something of myself apart from Serv-All. But you have to understand that insecure people are afraid to try and fail. What did I know of college?!

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But the fire changed things. I started thinking about how close I came to losing my life under the weight of that exhaust fan. I thought about Uncle Jack's suggestion that I set some goals and make some attempt to achieve my potential. !

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I started thinking about my responsibility as a father and my need to do something to secure the future. And most of all, I started paying more attention to Anita.!

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And so, on a Thursday evening in January 1962, I drove over to the house to see my father. When I arrived, he was laying in bed watching television. I asked him if we could talk and turned off the television. I told him that I thought we should rebuild the business but that we should build it small enough to where he could run it without me. He asked what in the world I was talking about. So, I explained that I had made a decision to go to college and to get an education. I would work with him and help the rebuilding process but I wanted to look into getting a college education. !

Never before and never again after that was my father so taken aback. His first reaction was to try talking me out of it. I had a future with Serv-All. What did I need to worry about? Now, looking back, I can see that his initial reaction was that of someone on the verge of losing a teammate. We had always been together and here I was talking about doing something else with my life, apart from him. Finally, when he realized just how intent I was, he assured me that if and when I got this out of my system, I would always have a place with him at Serv-All.!

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The University of South Florida!

The University of South Florida (USF) had just recently opened its doors and only offered Liberal Arts courses with intentions of eventually being an institution with a complete range of academic offerings. My brother Bob was already a student there and believe it or not, I had a role to play in that decision.!

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Dad had it in mind that I would run the sales and operational side of Serv-All and that Bob would be the bookkeeper and office manager. Toward that end, after Bob graduated from high school, Dad sent him to Tampa Business School on S. Edison Street. About that time, I had a sales call to make in North Tampa. The gentleman I met that night was a professor at USF and in the course of conversation, I proudly announced, "I have a brother in college." "Oh," he said, "where is he enrolled?�!

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At that point, I said, "Tampa Business College." In response he said, "Oh." Fortunately, he picked up on the fact that I was rather green when it came to college information and took it upon himself to share some academic counseling with me. He explained that Tampa Business College was simply a trade school. It was not an accredited institution which meant that Bob's work there would never be accepted at an accredited institution if he should every decide to transfer. He explained accreditation to me and how important a bachelors degree is in the real world.!

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I took it upon myself to share this information with Bob and Dad. Reluctantly, but to his! credit, Dad accepted the idea of Bob doing his studies at USF and he began the next term at that institution.!

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Ken, The College Student!

All I knew was that I should start at the Admissions Office. That made sense. I was asked to fill out some forms and to submit my high school transcript. Thanks to Bob, I had arrived on the scene with my transcript in hand. Since I was now at the ripe old

age of 27, and having been away from an academic environment for 10 years, it was suggested that I take two courses in the summer term, Basic English and Basic Math.

That would serve two purposes. It would prepare me for the first term curriculum in the fall and it would get me back to using study skills. They didn't know that I never had studying skills. And that reality was about to make itself painfully obvious.!

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As it turned out, Bob was also enrolled in that same Basic Math Course and we were able to study together. It would be the first and only time he and I were enrolled in the same class. I guess I had a better native talent for math than did Bob, as I wound up with a "B" and he with a "C." This may have been another brick in the wall that was growing between Bob and me. When I started at USF, he was showing me around.

Now, I outdid him in the Math Course. While I never thought much about it from a competitive standpoint, he apparently did.!

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Bob had grown up in my shadow, the same as Dad did behind Uncle Jack. Instead of, "Why can't you do such and such like Jake," it was, "Why can't you do such and such like Ken." Dad did the same thing to his son that had been done to him. The worse part about the situation is that I was too unsophisticated to realize all of this at the time. If I had known, I could have possibly done things differently.!

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While Bob took a hiatus from college to put in his time in the Navy (submarines), I moved on with my education. Every morning, we would leave the house, drop Mollie off at the nursery and I would leave Anita at the hospital. I would make it a point to pick her up when she got off work in the afternoon. In the time I was not in classes, I was either studying in the library or making sales calls for Serv-All.!

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Picking a Major!

One of the first questions I was asked at USF had to do with my career goals. Before I even knew what it was like to sit in a college class they were asking me in which curriculum I wished to major. I told them that I did not know. They told me that I had to fill in that blank on my admission sheet. The only person I knew who had a college education was my cousin Phil Kitchler. Phil had graduated from pharmacy school and was earning good money ($75 per week), so I put an "X" next to "Pharmacy."!

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Later that day, I picked Anita up at the hospital and told her about selecting a major.

She listened patiently and then asked me, "Do you know what a pharmacist does on a daily basis?" To which I admitted that I did not. She then suggested that we contact Phil whom at the time lived in Sebring, FL and was working for a small local pharmacy

call Eckards. Perhaps we could go down to Sebring on a weekend when Phil is working and I could see for myself what it is like. Phil and Marge (his wife) were delighted to have us come for a visit and I did accompany Phil to work on Saturday.

BORING. For me the only bright moment was watching Phil deal with a young pockfaced kid who was trying to buy a prophylactic. In those days they weren't out on the shelf.!

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So, on Monday morning I marched into the Admissions Office and advised them that I had made a mistake and that I wanted to change my major to Engineering. Why did I choose Engineering? I sure couldn't tell you at the time other than it seemed a lot more interesting than Pharmacy. I had always worked with my hands (not that engineers necessarily work with their hands) and it sounded good to my novice ears.!

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Looking back on it, I was not well suited to be an engineer any more than I was a pharmacist. But that is the direction I took. I now realize that in my subconscious mind, I knew that engineering would be a well-respected major and that if I could manage to get through the program, I would show my father for sure. I honestly felt that he anticipated me failing in college and returning to Serv-All. Not only was I intent on graduating from college but I was equally determined to do it in a difficult curriculum.!

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And somewhere along the way, we had to name a discipline in Engineering and for that answer, once again, up stepped Uncle Jack Woolf. Before beginning any coursework, we had made a trip to Boston in May 1962 for the unveiling of the stone for Anita's mother, Sarah. She had passed away the previous December. !

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It was while on that trip that I proudly informed Uncle Jack that I was going to begin college. He was obviously pleased to hear the news. First thing he asked was what I planned to study. I told him engineering. Next question ... "What kind of engineering?" "Maybe electrical," I answered. "Wouldn't do that, if it were me," was his quick response.!

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"All right, what would you do?" He hadn't steered me wrong yet, so I was quite receptive to his advice. He said as follows:!

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"Engineering and science are on the verge of exploding with new developments. What is the latest thing today will be obsolete tomorrow. You need to be best positioned to adapt.

Electrical engineering is too specialized and will soon be very different from what you learn now. I would major in Mechanical Engineering because it is the broadest based engineering curriculum you can find. And with a broad based education you will be ! in the best position to react to new development and technologies." Nothing more

needed to be said, I was going to, and did, major in Mechanical Engineering.!

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I completed two academic years at USF but was limited to liberal arts courses and one pre-engineering course... Engineering Graphics. In that course, under Dr. George Cowell, I found I had a natural skill for mechanical drawing. I excelled to the point that Dr. Cowell asked me to work with him as a lab assistant. He also took a personal interest in me and served as my tutor in calculus and other math courses I studied at USF. I was in his office in November 1963 when we all learned of JFK's assassination.!

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Also, in 1963, I was nearing completion of my first two years of college. Given the fact that I was not much of a student to begin with, I was splitting my time with working for Serv-All and the difficulty level of the courses I was enrolled in was a challenge, I finished out those two years with an unspectacular "C" average. And in order to get the average up to that point, I needed B's during my last term in both Calculus and Chemistry. Somehow, I made it.!

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USF did not (at that time) have a College of Engineering. So, for those of us enrolled in pre-engineering, we had to transfer to another institution to complete our program. I applied to the University of Florida in Gainesville and they turned me down because of my meager 2.0 average. (The irony of their decision would become apparent years later when they were to offer me an administrative position on their faculty and I turned them down.)!

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I had to look elsewhere. A friend of mine, Ed Driver, had heard good things about the program at the University of Houston and drove out there to take a look. On the way back to Tampa Ed came straight to our house to tell me about what he found. !

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That led to Anita and I leaving Mollie with the folks and driving out to Houston for an interview. The idea of being 1,000 miles from Tampa was also appealing. I would be far enough away so that I didn't feel obligated to help my father when he was busy. I could devote myself totally to my studies. In case of an emergency, if I was really needed, I could drive back in one long day. For the first time in my life I was focusing first on what would be best for my little family and me.!

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I met with the Assistant Dean of Engineering, Bill Leach, and quickly understood why Ed had been so impressed.

Bill and others I met there were more interested in me the person than the grades I had earned on prior coursework. That does not mean he didn't make it clear that I needed the 2.0 average for acceptance in transfer, but they also recognized the

conditions that I labored under were also not of the norm. I returned to Tampa with a roadmap of exactly what I needed to do in my last term at USF in order to be accepted at U of H. While in Houston, Anita checked in at the Houston Medical Center and quickly learned that she would have no problem obtaining a position there.!

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Throughout the last term at USF, we tried to sell the house on Santiago Street. There were simply no buyers. We finally gave it away to a party that was willing to take over the mortgage and pay us $600 for our equity.!

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Texas Becomes Home!

Fate has a way of working things out, if we only go with the flow. I shall always be grateful to the academic snob that turned down my application to the University of Florida. That decision forced me to look elsewhere and that took us to Texas.!

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It was the summer of 1964 when we arrived in Houston and rented an apartment we could manage on our limited budget. Having said that, it was the best living accommodations we had had to that point in our married life. It was a clean two-bedroom apartment in a Ushaped complex surrounding a swimming pool. We were relatively close to the university and not that far away from the medical center.

We located a nice nursery for Mollie and were ready for the next phase of our life.!

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In those days, Houston was a big homespun town. I like to say that if you were to have car trouble along a road in Houston, people would line up trying to be of help. Elsewhere in the country, they would line up trying to steal your car. They received and welcomed strangers until they were strangers no more. There was a certain attitude that flowed through the veins of Houstonians that made them unique. Nothing was impossible and everything was worth a fair consideration.!

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In the world of sports, baseball in particular, we always complained about a game being rained out and wishing that the field had a roof over it. In Houston they not only built the first domed stadium, but the manner in which they raised the funds was in itself descriptive of this attitude. They held a referendum and asked for a vote from the citizenry of Harris County on the question of whether they could raise taxes to fund a

project, to build a facility that had never been tried before. The vote was approved and the Houston Astrodome became a first of its kind.!

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Over a century before, it was Houstonians that dug a fifty-mile channel to provide access to the Gulf of Mexico and allow freighters to deliver and pick up cargo in Houston. The Houston Ship Channel was initially dug by hand, without modern equipment. Today, Houston is second only to New Orleans as a shipping center in southern United States. The only reason for mentioning these, is to provide examples of the way Houstonians thought and approached life. As I settled into this community, I was caught up in the euphoria, I almost felt reborn.!

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Then another factor in Houston had a great impact on me. I met Dr. Ardis White. He was first my teacher, then my friend, and finally (much later) my boss when I started teaching. This fine human being became my mentor about whom I could write a book. In short, he was a role model for me. He taught me professionalism, ethics, and humility. Ardis never did anything without first considering if it would negatively affect someone else. At one point Ardis was named Executor of our Estate in our wills, while we lived in Houston. When Sherri was born, he celebrated her birth and we attended his daughter's Baptist wedding with equally enthusiasm. When Sherri began to talk, she would sit on Ardis' lap and had a hard time calling him Dr. White.

It came out more like "Ducky" White.!

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Ardis White was a little resented by my father. Oh, they got along fine when the folks visited us. But somewhere along the line, my Dad came to realize the impact Ardis had on my being and development. As my mentor, Dad saw Ardis as playing a role in my life he would want to have played, but Dad knew he was unable to do so. Was it resentment or was it envy? Maybe it was a little of both.!

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So many years later, I look back upon my time in Houston and consider it the site of my rebirth. My career took my family and me to many places and when people ask me where I am from, my inclination is to say Texas. In a way, I feel like I was born there.!That is where I became the person I am today more so than anywhere else.

Our Student Life in Houston!

Anita worked the 11 - 7 shift at night. We found that if she came straight home in the morning, I had just enough time to take the car, drop Mollie at the nursery and get to the university on time for my first class. While we were gone for the day, Anita had a reasonably quiet apartment in which to get her sleep.!

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Shortly after arriving at and settling in Houston we received word that Bubby Kahan had passed away. I believe that her passing had as much an impact on Anita as it did on me. In the short years that they had known each other, a bond had been developed that was beautiful to witness. Anita's own grandparents were gone so early in her life, that such a bond was never established. So Bubby Kahan became her Bubby as well as mine.!

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Throughout my undergraduate study years, Anita was the breadwinner. In the truest of sense, she not only inspired me to go to school but also made it financially possible.

Not only did she do all that, but she also taught me what little I learned on the art of studying. Study skills, I was not richly endowed with, so her little tips could have made the difference.!

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From a personal perspective, I made the decision when I left Tampa, that I was going to start a new life in Houston. It would be new in every respect. I even made a vow to go to class each day wearing a shirt and tie. There was something about dressing right that made me feel right. And when I felt a little better about myself, I seemed to perform on a better level. Many people made as good or better grades than I did who were dressed in dungarees and tee shirts. That was their business. Maybe the little psychological edge it gave me was enough to overcome my own limitations.!

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As time went on, I gained more self-confidence. I came to realize that we were doing something, and succeeding, without my parents being involved. We were doing it on our own. We did not ask for (not that it was offered) any financial assistance and as the years passed it did not change. Somewhere along the line I came to believe that I would make it through the program and from that point on, that objective was for me a certainty.!

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In 1965, my brother Bob returned to Tampa from the Navy and attempted to continue his studies at USF in Tampa. Living at home, he found it difficult to study and he lacked the support that was needed at that point in his life.!

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I recall him telling me of a situation that was symptomatic of his difficulties at home

with the folks. He would be upstairs trying to study and Dad would be downstairs watching television. Dad would yell up for him to come down quick. Dropping his books, he dutifully traipsed downstairs only to learn that Dad wanted him to see something on television that he thought was particularly entertaining. His train of thought broken, Bob would climb the stairs and try to regain his study-momentum. It was frustrating.!

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Another factor played into Bob's emotional status at the time. While in the Navy, he had been stationed in Charleston, SC and been dating a local girl. Apparently, he felt a stronger feeling for her than she did for him. He left Charleston a very sad young man.!

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At that point, big sister Anita suggested that we invite Bob to come live with us in Houston. He could study at U of H and we could provide him the support he needed.

And so it happened. Bob moved in to our apartment and shared the second bedroom with Mollie. After a while, he took a part-time job and was able to contribute to the household budget. His additional funds allowed us to rent a three-bedroom house in the Bellaire section of Houston. Now Bob had a room of his own.!

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My future started to take a direction when I signed up for a Structures course that was taught by Dr. Ardis White. Here is where Uncle Jack's wise counsel paid off. I would never been in that class except for the fact that the Mechanical Engineering curriculum called for this course to be taken out of the Civil Engineering department.

As I soon learned, Ardis White was one of the pioneers in the field of Experimental Stress Analysis. I can't say it was the same for others in the class, but for me it became a course I couldn't wait to attend. As I had opportunities to enroll in technical electives, I chose to study more under Ardis from the Civil Engineering Department. In simple terms, stress analysis had to do with determining before a structure was built whether it would hold up under the forces that may be applied to it. Ardis was an expert in the field and I was excited about the opportunity of learning from him.!

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While a student, I worked as a lab assistant for Ardis. He also paid me to help him with private consulting projects he was working on. In those pre-computer days, much of the calculations were more laborious than creative. He hired me to make these repetitive calculations. As I learned later, he had a way of giving students who needed it, a chance to earn money... many times when he really didn't need the help. But he also respected the pride of his students who would never accept a handout but would welcome the opportunity to earn money. It was while working for Ardis on a consulting assignment that I had my first exposure to bioengineering. !

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The Houston Medical Center was and remains to this day, a leader in the field! of medicine. It was there that Dr. Harrington developed a surgical procedure for

straightening the back's spinal column for those suffering from scoliosis. Scoliosis is lateral curvature of the spine and Dr. Harrington's approach was to literally stretch the spinal column straight and while in that extended position, attach stainless steel rods to act like splints, holding the spine in that straightened position. They became know as "Harrington Rods.�!

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The problem facing Dr. Harrington was that he had a sense of how much to pull when straightening out the spine. Too much pull could snap the spine and leave the patient worse off than before. If the procedure was to become more commonly used, Dr. Harrington wondered if there was a quantitative amount of pull that he applied. If that! could be determined, then others who performed that procedure would know to apply just so much pressure and stop. For that, he contacted Ardis White. Ardis applied dynamic strain gauges to the spreading devise that Dr. Harrington used and recorded the stress levels while the actual operation was underway. I had the opportunity to accompany Ardis on one of these operations. It was quite an experience, watching an operation on a human spinal cord.!

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It seemed as though the last graduate student that accompanied Ardis fainted at the verbal description of what the surgeon was about to do. As I stood there, I noticed a number of people looking at me. I felt self-conscious and wondered what they were looking at. I even checked to see if the fly on my pants was zippered all the way up.

Finally, I was no longer the subject of attention and the patient assumed that role.

After the operation, Dr. Harrington gave me a personal tour of the Houston Rehabilitation Center and while walking along, he explained what everyone was looking at in the operating room.!

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Apparently, whenever a novice was to attend their first operation, a common game was to guess how long the observer would remain on their feet. I spoiled their fun by not reacting at all to what I was witnessing. I was so taken in by the whole procedure, it never occurred to me to get sick or feel faint. The tools that were used in surgery resembled my own... hammer, drill, chisels, etc. By the time the procedure was completed, I was certain that I could do that.!

!

This and other experiences inspired me to do a bioengineering topic for my senior project. A classmate and I teamed up to design and build a prosthetic device that allowed a paraplegic to close his hand where, without it, he or she could not. Such a device made it possible for them to feed themselves and to even shave.

It should be apparent that Sid's boy was living a far different life than ever would have been expected. Thanks to Ardis and a few other faculty members who took an interest in me, I was growing as a human being. And through my educational pursuit, my horizons were expanding beyond my expectations when I started school. When I had a chance to visit with my father, I spoke of things he knew very little about; and that was poor judgement on my part. I wanted to share with him what I was learning but instead, he only felt that his kid was moving into another world and farther from him. He said I was getting too big for my britches.!

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In June 1966, I graduated from the University of Houston with a 5-year Bachelor of Science Degree in Mechanical Engineering... four years after I started USF as a freshman.!

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Sherilyn Sue (1966)!

In July 1966, I received my graduation gift from Anita...Sherri. Bob was named her G-d-Father.!

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My First Engineering Position !

Like most engineering graduates, I had a choice of employment opportunities. In my senior year, Ardis White had given me an opportunity to teach Graphics Laboratory sessions, as a means of earning some needed cash. I kind of took to the teaching and apparently impressed him with my ability. So, when I graduated, I was offered a teaching fellowship if I would stay and work on my Master's degree. I decided that I wanted to work in industry and get a feel for the real world, so to speak.!

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I interviewed with a young fledgling firm in Dallas and was close to accepting a position with them, complete with stock options and the whole bit. But I was more enamored with another opportunity and that was right there in Houston at the Manned Spacecraft Center... NASA. Placing a man on the moon by the end of the decade was a goal that all of Houston shared in accomplishing. And the chance to be part of that effort was something I could not ignore. So I turned down the offer from that fledgling company in Dallas and went to work for NASA. By the way, that fledgling company was Texas Instruments.!

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I was employed to work in the Mock-Up Division at NASA. We designed and built spacecraft training mock-ups for the astronauts to use as they prepared for a mission. It allowed for some creativity and feeling of the adrenaline flow, working directly with these great individuals who flew the missions. There was only one problem that became more of an issue as the euphoria wore off. The government had thrown so much money at meeting the space program goals that there were more of us there than were needed.

With time on our hands, we almost had to look for things to do at times or like so many did, tackle projects that should never have been.!

!

With full woodworking shops available to us, some guys started doing personal projects at work. At first it was a little something that needed to be glued and clamped.

I even built a toolbox (which I still have). That was considered no big deal. But then it started to become more involved. One guy build a complete set of kitchen cabinets with government materials, loaded it on his pickup truck, and took it home. When another individual ordered the necessary materials to build a pool table (felts, bumpers and slate) on a government requisition form, I decided that it was time for me to leave. This kind of activity had to rise to the surface some time and when it did, I had no intention of being there.!

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Lockheed was a prime contractor to NASA and I heard that they had an opening for a stress engineer. I applied and got the job. After a year the contract went out to bid and it was won by LTV. My paycheck stayed the same, it was just issued by another company. The fact is that I did the same thing for both employers on the same project.

While with Lockheed, I realized that the amount of elective exposure I got to structural coursework was limited by my Mechanical Engineering curriculum. It got me started but I needed more to do my job right.!

!

So I began taking courses at U of H, two nights a week. Up stepped Ardis with two suggestions; (1) Apply to Graduate School so that the courses would count toward a Masters Degree and, (2) While I was on campus anyway to take a course, teach one for him on the same nights. I agreed to both of his suggestions since he had never led me down the wrong path. This went on well into 1969 when we landed a spacecraft on the moon and Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldren set foot on the lunar surface.

A Move Toward Academia!

At that point, two developments affected my professional life. Following the lunar landing mission, the workload at LTV became less and they had more employees than they could keep busy. And, at the University of Houston, Ardis initiated an innovative program. He realized that there were graduate students like myself who had been working in industry and had personal family obligations that required an income at a level considerably higher than a graduate stipend. He managed to have a full faculty position (with a normal faculty salary) approved that could be filled by a graduate student. I was the first to fill that position when he offered me the position of Assistant Professor of Civil Engineering. The terms of the offer is that I would receive a salary commensurate with an Assistant Professor, I would teach a full load of courses, and I would relinquish that position once I completed my Masters Degree.!

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LTV was delighted to move me from a full time position to a part time consulting relationship. Also, about that time, the GI Bill kicked in and I received payment from the government that covered my school costs.

That period while I had three sources of income at one time, was a windfall for us. We bought and paid for a new car (1969 Impala) and took care of many of the expenses associated with our new home in League City (part of the NASA area). !

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We bought that house on the GI Bill for $19,995 with no money down and a 5% interest loan.

Today you can't by a good car for that.!

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Lisa Michelle (1968)!

Before we landed a man on the moon, Anita landed another daughter... Lisa Michelle in 1968. And in December 1969, I completed my Thesis and finished my Masters Degree. That meant I was also finished as an Assistant Professor of Civil Engineering.

Chapter 8: 1970 Through 1980 While I taught Civil Engineering courses in Structural Mechanics, I was often frustrated by what I was doing.

According to the course syllabus, I had to derive certain equations. My frustration stemmed from the fact that by the time the equation was developed, there remained little time in the one-hour class to show the students how the equation was used in the real world.

The practical application was missing. Having been in industry, I now found what I was doing as being rather sterile. As it turned out, I wasn't the only one with these sentiments.!

On the same U of H campus, just across the street from the College of Engineering was another, the College of Engineering Technology. I had seen it there but never paid much attention to it. With my teaching career coming to and end with the completion of my Masters Degree, Ardis suggested that I make an appointment with Dean Hugh McCallick across the street. He said that he had heard that there was a faculty position open in the Department of Civil Engineering Technology and that maybe that might be something that I would find of interest. With nothing to lose, I made an appointment with Dean McCallick.!

My Academic Career Takes On Meaning!

Just as Ardis was a pioneer in Experimental Stress Analysis, I found Hugh McCallick to be a front-runner in the field of Engineering Technology. In accepting the position Dean McCallick offered me, I went from working under one mentor (Ardis) to learning from another (Mac). It turned out that Engineering Technology is simply the application side of Engineering. A typical class would start with the presentation of the equation (sans derivation), explanation of what assumptions had been made in its development, and the bulk of the class would be spent on how that formula is used in actual practice. Now this made sense.!

Initially, Technology schools offered only two-year Associate degrees. But along came Purdue, U of H, Bradley, and a few others who expanded these to four-year curricula. Some academic purists (snobs) looked down on these programs as being too hands-on and not academic enough for baccalaureate status, so the establishment of these programs required as much political skill as it did academic. Hugh McCallick was a master of both talents and I was in the enviable position of not only learning from him but also, doing so when the growth of these programs was at its early stages. If Mac represented the first wave, I was part of the second.

My father had a statement that is appropriately inserted here. "Many people are in the right place at the right time more than once in their lives. But only the smart ones know they are there." With that in the back of my head, I realized that this was the case with Mac and I seized upon it as an opportunity.!

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I was assigned to the Civil Engineering Technology Department (CET) and was given! courses to teach that contained information I had never learned in College or worked with in industry. Remember that my undergraduate studies were in Mechanical Engineering,so I did not have any exposure to "Construction Specifications,�

"Surveying," “Concrete Design," etc. that are typical to undergraduate Civil Engineering curricula. In my first semester, I was assigned the Contracts and Specifications Course to teach. Somehow, my students and I came out of the course with having shared a learning experience. And so it went. Whatever I needed to do, I somehow found a constructive way of dealing with the challenge and all the time, without realizing at the time, Mac was watching me.!

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At the end of the first year, Mac appointed me Department Chairman. He did not reduce my workload (number of classes to teach). Within the first few weeks, Mac called me into his office. He explained that the gentleman, who was the Assistant to the Dean, was in the hospital and asked me if while he was laid up, would I take care of the Applications for Graduation. Unaccustomed as I was to declining an assignment, I said, "Sure."

Our ailing colleague never left the hospital alive and I was soon anointed another title, Assistant to the Dean.!

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My administrative responsibilities at U of H presented me with the first opportunity to direct the efforts of others. One day, Mac's secretary came into my office and said that Mac wanted me to join him for lunch. We got in his car and drove downtown to the President's Club, high atop a Houston high rise building.!

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At least back then, the State regulation was such that if you did not plan on rehiring an employee for the next year, he must be notified at least 90 days in advance that such was a possibility. So, sitting by a window overlooking the city of Houston, Mac informed me that there was a chance that my contract might not be renewed in the coming year. After all I was doing, and all the roles I was playing, this notice was a shocker.!

I asked Mac what had caused him to question whether he wanted to keep me around.

His answer was one of the many lessons I learned from that man. He said, "There are two ways of getting people to follow you. You can lead them intellectually or you can chuck them up under your armpit and carry them off kicking and screaming. I would prefer you use the former and not the latter." We sat and talked until about four o'clock that afternoon and then returned to the campus. As we got out of the car, he said not to worry. He just wanted to make an impression on me and he did.!

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Mac, among other things, was a visionary of sorts. It never ceased to amaze me of how many directions he could look at one time and how far his vision extended. One day he called me into his office and told me that the Construction Industry was in dire need of construction managers and that the need would only increase with time. He asked me if I wouldn't take on the project of developing a Construction Management curriculum in the CET department. "Sure," I said, "Why not." To myself I said, "Sure, just keep piling it on." To make matters worse, I knew absolutely nothing about construction management. It was time for some more innovative thinking.!

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Developing a Construction Management Program!

I called and made an appointment with the president of the local chapter of AGC (Associated General Contractors), Jim Morrison. At his office and after some pleasantries, he asked me how much money we needed. I told him I hadn't come looking for money. He had a baffled look on his phase and said, "You are from the University, aren't you?" I confirmed that I was. Then he said, "I don't understand. The only times we ever hear from anyone at the universities in this town is when the come looking for money. What do you want?"!

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I then explained to him that we were planning to design and put into operation a Baccalaureate program in Construction Management. It seemed to me, I continued, that if the program were to be successful, it would need to meet the needs of the industry, for success would be measured in terms of the employment of graduates.

What I had in mind was the formation of a Construction Management Industry Advisory Committee that would work with our academic people to ensure that the proper skill-sets were included in the curriculum.!

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You could have knocked Jim over with a feather. Someone from the ivory tower of academia was actually interested in real life needs. He almost fell over himself offering any help they could provide including a student scholarship once the program

was underway. After one or two meetings of the CET faculty, with input from our "Advisory Committee," we were ready to present the program for approval by the University Academic Counsel. The fact that the proposed curriculum had the endorsement of the local construction industry turned out to be more damaging than good. How dare I involve non-academic people in the design of a university level program? It was pure blasphemy. It just wasn't done and was hardly justification for the course makeup. But with Mac applying pressure politically, we got it passed and my next job was to recruit faculty for the program. The first registration filled the classes and we were on our way.!

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Recruiters Start Coming!

As the merits and popularity of four-year degree programs in Engineering Technology became more known, many universities elected to add similar programs at their institutions. The first question to be addressed would be just who could they get to head up their program. The natural place to look was on the campuses of those universities that were known to have succeeded in this field. So, every month or so, we would have visitors from other universities and who do you think Mac would assign to show these folks around? You can bet it was yours truly. And when these folks got around to looking for a program head, they knew they couldn't get Mac, but what about that right-hand man of his?!

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I had no burning desire to leave U of H. On the other hand, I was ambitious to say the least. If I stayed right there, I would most likely become Mac's heir apparent but that might be many years away. As each offer or "feeler" came in I would discuss it with Mac. Every time, we agreed that there wasn't enough to gain by moving. That is until the Dean of Engineering at USF called. Yes, by this time USF in Tampa had its own Engineering School.!

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The State of Florida had opted to add two more universities to the State system; one in Jacksonville and one in Miami. The Dean was on an advisory committee to the Miami operation that would become known as Florida International University (FIU).

Among the Schools planned for FIU was a School of Technology and he wanted to know if he could throw my name in the hat for the Dean's position.!

!

I talked it over with Mac and he said I should agree, even though it may take three people to replace me if I were to leave the University of Houston. I asked him why he

felt this way. He said, "Starting a University from scratch is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that most people never see. In a position like that, you will learn more in a year or two there than you will here in a decade.�!

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So my name went in the hat and I waited. The call finally came. As much as they wanted me, they could not overcome one thing I lacked ... a doctorate. Every Dean on this new campus was to have a doctoral degree and I only had my Masters. The question was then put to me as to whether I would consider the number-two position.

Bob Ellis, the Assistant Dean at USF had a Ph.D. and could serve as Dean. But Bob had little knowledge of the Technology concept. If I would come in as Assistant Dean under Bob, they could have what they saw as a winning combination. With Mac's encouragement, I accepted the position.!

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The Miami Experience!

Selling the house in League City was not easy emotionally or practically. The space program was winding down. In some bedroom communities it resembled ghost towns with houses for sale on every street.

Under those conditions, it is hard to get prime dollars. In addition, this was our first "nice" home and in some ways, hard to leave.!

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We rented a U-Haul truck and loaded it to the brim. Friends and neighbors helped us pack. I had built a walk-in playhouse in the back yard, complete with roofing tiles. It took four of us to carry it down the street to a neighbor who was delighted to take possession of it for their kids. Anita drove the car and the children took turns riding in the car and truck as we headed for Miami.!

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We purchased the house we moved into even though it was not our ideal. But we were in an up-market and it paid off. We immediately identified a new development and purchased a house that was being built... one that was more along the lines of what Anita would like. We had the opportunity to modify the original design, a little bit.

We sold the first one at a profit and settled into the new house when it was ready.!

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At the University, our offices were located in construction trailers. It was located at the site of a small abandoned airport. Local folklore says that this was the airstrip that Amelia Earhart actually left from on her last and fatal flight.!

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We were truly there on the ground floor. Bob Ellis and I divided up areas of responsibility. He took the lead role in recruiting faculty and I concentrated on program development. The concept that we were asked to accommodate in all our curricula

was that anyone graduating from a two-year associate degree should be able to get full credit in transfer for the first two years of the baccalaureate degree. It was an innovative and progressive idea that could not have been handled by traditionalist thinking. I cannot estimate the miles I drove around the State of Florida, visiting every community college. And I did visit every one. I am proud to have been a part of developing those programs that, by the way, also included one in Construction Management.!

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My relationship with Bob Ellis was not the best and yet, it could have been worse. Bob was younger than I was, and in some ways was a little threatened by my greater posture in the Technology community. One of our key recruits was Walt Thomas from Purdue University. Walt and I were active in ECPD (Engineering Council for Professional Development) which was the accreditation authority for engineering curricula in the United States. Walt and I had served on accreditation teams together.

We were also active in ISEE (the International Society of Engineering Education) and had served on committees together. Recruiting Walt to come to FIU was a quite an addition and it was me, not Bob, who had the relationship to pull it off.!

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As time passed I received calls from ECPD to participate on an accreditation team.

That meant visiting the campus, reviewing their programs, and making a recommendation as to their accreditation status. With each call, before accepting the invitation, I showed Bob the proper courtesy by asking his permission to make the trip.

I didn't know or wasn't smart enough to recognize that he was envious of my posture within the engineering technology community.!

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To Bob's credit, he did encourage me to seek a doctorate degree. By this time, it was apparent to me that I was in administrative positions and would not likely return to industry where I would utilize additional Engineering Education. On the other hand, I lacked the prerequisite coursework to enter a doctoral program in Business Management, which is what I really wanted to do.!

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This led me to the office of a friend of mine at a sister Florida institution, Florida Atlantic University (FAU) in Boca Raton, who was their dean of the School of Education. With his blessings, I was able to put together a curriculum of courses that I felt would help me the most. That is why I technically earned a doctorate in Education (because that is the School that awarded it to me) but the coursework was far from what they usually require. My program was more coursework out of the School of Business Management than in Education. A solid one-third of my study was in the field of human behavior because I felt that if you have to administer people, you should know as much as possible about what makes them click.!

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Behind our house was the parking lot of a condo building. Each day, I would leave my office at FIU, drive up behind our house where Anita would have my dinner in a bag to

eat on the way, and drive two hours up the road to Boca Raton and my classes at FAU. In two years, I finished my degree in 1975.!

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While still in Houston, I made acquaintance with an official from the U.S. Department of Health, Education and Welfare (HEW). In particular, Bill was responsible for granting funds for the development of technological education in institutions of higher education He invited me to join a committee of educators who annually came to Washington DC to review RFF's (Requests for Funding) that his office received daily.

The committee would make recommendations as to which request should be accepted in the program. I was added to the committee with Dean McCallick's blessings. When the committee met, the requests would be divided among us according to our respective areas of specialization. My area was engineering technology. So, shortly into my tenure at FIU, I received my annual invitation from HEW to participate in the meeting. I took the request to Bob who agreed to my leaving town for a couple days. Again, and unbeknownst to me at the time, he bristled at the fact that his Assistant Dean was in greater demand within the profession than he was.!

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Little by little, I felt the resentment where I had not before. Bob mentioned things to others that let me know of his feelings. I tried to show him as much respect as possible and even went so far as to thank him for all I was learning under his leadership. Nothing seemed to work and the fun was going out of the job.!

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About this time, my friend Bill at HEW decided to sponsor a conference in Washington, DC built around the creation of university-level technology programs. He asked me if I would participate as a member of the "Panel of Experts." With Bob's approval, I accepted the invitation. At the conference, those of us on the Panel described the type of programs with which we had been involved and some of our personal philosophies regarding technical education. Then the floor was opened to the audience who could direct specific questions to whomever they wished on the Panel. It was an excellent program and I left feeling as though I had made a positive contribution and in that, there was a lot of self-satisfaction. Little did I know that the program would also pave the way for my departure from FIU.!

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The Mississippi Experience!

A few months after the HEW program, I received a call from a gentleman who introduced himself as Shelby Thames.

Shelby started the conversation by saying something like, "We want to build the best Center for Technological Studies in the country right here in Hattiesburg, MS and we want the best man in the country to head it up. Will you come?"

Out of curiosity, I made a trip up to Hattiesburg to take a look. I found the remnants of an old industrial arts program that was so bad, it was no longer fully accredited. I found poorly qualified faculty and out-dated facilities. If ever there was a challenge, this was it. And I accepted the challenge. I told Anita we would most likely be leaving in two years for that is how long I expected it would take to gather a critical mass of enemies. There was no way that these programs could be cleaned up without stepping on toes. I told Shelby that toes would have to be stepped on, no matter how tactfully I did my job and he encouraged me to do what needed to be done.!

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I submitted my resignation at FIU (which did not disappoint Bob) and headed for Hattiesburg, MS and the University of Southern Mississippi (USM). I did not attend my graduation at FAU because it conflicted with my move to Mississippi. I had them mail my doctoral degree to me. We moved all of our belongings into an apartment while we settled on the house that we were to buy. Then, when it was available, we moved again.!

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From a personal perspective, our family had some adjusting to do. Anita had little trouble obtaining a nursing position at the local hospital. The Jewish community was small but tightly connected. We were quickly accepted and made to feel a part of the whole. As various holidays came up, we were invited by families to join them, and in all, we were made to feel at home.!

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Shelby quickly advised us that the best place for Mollie to attend school was at a private school, Beason Academy. There, she would have the best education. Another parent told Anita that at Beason you didn't have any of those, you know, blacks to deal with. We tried but it didn't take Mollie long to be totally fed up with the bigotry and to ask that we enroll her in the public school. At Hattiesburg High School she was a lot more satisfied and almost bragged about the fact that she had scorned the invitation to join a sorority. It seems as though she was asked but only on the condition that she stop being friendly with some of the black students.!

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As for my work, it started off pretty good. I quickly identified the courses that served absolutely no purpose and requested that the academic Committee dissolve them, all 27 of them. I then asked for the approval of about eight new ones as additions to the curricula. I closed down a private business that was being run on campus with State subsidy. !

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The Chairman of the Architecture Department was running an architectural business from his office on campus. His students were doing his drawings, the blueprint machine was producing his plans, and his secretary was taking his calls.

It was not a bad deal but highly inappropriate. Since he had built a house for the university's Academic Vice President, everyone was looking the other way .. except me. I couldn't let it go on and it was the first set of toes I trod upon.!

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The Center for Technological Studies was to include all disciplines of Engineering Technology, Architecture and Industrial management programs. My position as Director was at a Dean's level, with the Heads of these respective Departments reporting to me. At both the University of Houston and at Florida International University, I had been responsible for the development of a Construction Management Department.

It only made sense that we convert the Building Technology program (that was not accredited) to Construction Management. Toward that end I recruited Jim Young from Colorado State University to head up the program and Dave Marchman from the University of Florida to back him up. Those two, particularly given the programs they came from, put ours on the map immediately. In Mechanical Engineering Technology, I got Wes Baldwin to leave Purdue and join our program.!

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With all the new blood I brought to USM, it wasn't long before the curricula were becoming ready for accreditation. Once we cleared that hurdle, I could concentrate my personal energies on the design of the building that was to house the Center for Technological Studies. There were many nights I worked at our dining room table designing floor plans. I was never to see the building I designed completed and occupied.!

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My friend Bill at HEW had another idea. Why not put together a Guide for the Development of Technological Studies? He encouraged me to draft a request for a grant. Shelby, always looking for research money, was quick to encourage me. With the help of Wes Baldwin, we structured the proposal and sent it on to Washington. It was quickly approved. The timing was perfect in that its budget contained salary money for Wes to get paid over the summer. Faculty teaching contracts were for nine months and if the faculty member was to be paid their full salary in the summer, it had to come from some other source, such as a grant. So when it came time to submit my budget for the Center, I showed Wes Baldwin as having a full salary in the summer and cited the project number as a source of the funds. !

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The budget was reviewed and returned to me by the Academic Vice President of USM. He had scratched out Wes Baldwin's name and inserted another faculty member to be paid from my grant.

This presented me with two problems. One, I needed Wes to work on that project and the other person knew absolutely nothing about what we were going to do.

And secondly, it was illegal for me to authorize the use of federal funds for anything other than what it had been proposed by me to do with those moneys.!

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I put Wes Baldwin's name back in the budget and resubmitted it. It went back and forth between the Academic Vice President and me. I won the battle (as project manager, only I could authorize expenditures charged to that project) but I lost the war. I was soon advised that the position of Director of the Center for Technological Studies had been eliminated and I was offered the opportunity to resign. I did.!

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It was then that I learned first hand about the word precipitous. My quick decision to resign without giving it further thought was indeed precipitous. Once I was no longer employed and a thorn in their side, there was no need to give me a good reference. It took a full year for me to find other employment. I was selected for the Dean's position at the University of Nebraska (Omaha Campus) but at the last minute the Academic Vice President at Nebraska contacted his counterpart at USM and got an ear full. It wasn't long before the number two candidate was offered the position.!

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What became very apparent to me was that I no longer had the desire to deal with highly political administrative positions in academia. I then set my sights on a teaching position. In particular, I was intrigued by an opportunity to teach at a Community College where students were more determined than on large university campuses.

Between a modest teaching salary and potential income from consulting, I felt comfortable that we could do quite nicely.!

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Delaware County Community College!

A teaching opportunity presented itself at a small Community College in Broomhall, PA, just outside of Philadelphia. The position was in Engineering Technology, reporting to Beatrice (Bert) Trauny, the Dean of Technology who had come up through the ranks from the Nursing program. !

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The faculty search committee had selected me unanimously and she had gone along with

the recommendation because she was too insecure to go against their suggestion. In reality, as explained to me by a mutual associate on the faculty, she was concerned that with my background I was destined to take her job. In truth, that was the last thing I wanted to do. But she was paranoid with the thought that at her first slip, her replacement was right there waiting to take over.!

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At one point, I thought I might improve our relationship by catering to her lack of selfconfidence. I repeatedly asked her "advice" about things I was quite knowledgeable about with hopes that she would feel less intimidated by my presence. I tried in every way to show her respect.!

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Then, I received my annual call from the HEW to come to Washington, DC and review requests for funding. Accordingly, I asked Bert if she would like to participate in such a program. She said, "Oh, yes, but they would never ask me." I told her that there was always a need for good people. What I didn't say is at that time, there was always a demand for a female on any government committee. I called my contact and told him what the situation was and asked whether he could use someone to review healthrelated proposals. That led to him calling and inviting Bert to participate.!

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You would think that she would be grateful to me for getting her involved. To the contrary, it resulted in her being even more intimidated by me then ever. She told a colleague, "Ken Woolf is so influential, he pulled strings and had me installed on an HEW committee just like that (snap of the fingers).�!

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When I was doing my job in the classroom, I was happier than I had been in a long time. I enjoyed my students and they enjoyed me. Later, when the Dean chose not to recommend me for another annual contract, the students petitioned the College president. The faculty sent another petition and some of the parents of my students called on him personally. Nothing would make him renounce the recommendation of one of his deans. If he did, he would have lost the support of all his deans. And he couldn't get mine to change her recommendation. So after a one-year tenure, I was again faced with unemployment.!

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The Move To Boston!

I will forever cherish the good and rewarding experiences I enjoyed during my academic career. But there came a time in our rented home in Broomhall, PA that I knew it was time to make a change. At one point, I had started to write a book on higher education. I got as far as a chapter on university faculty in which I referred to them as a breeding ground for insecure people. Had I stayed in teaching alone and not aspired to administrative positions, perhaps I would have lasted longer in the business. But one must make choices and then live with the results. I did and I got burned out.

For some reason, I decided it was time to return to industry where I felt people are generally rewarded for production and commitment, sans politics. (Later, I learned that there is politics in every organization, academic or not.) Once that route was decided upon, the question arose as to where we should look. !

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The idea of returning to Boston and our roots was attractive to Anita and me. Anita had but one member left of her immediate family, her brother Sherwin, and he lived in the Boston area.!

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Sherwin's wife, Maria, started sending us the employment section of the Sunday Boston Globe newspaper. In it, one day, I read an advertisement that interested me. Camp, Dresser, & McKee (CDM), a large environmental engineering consulting firm in Boston, was looking for a Director of Training for their International Division. I replied and within days I heard from CDM with an invitation to come up to Boston for an interview.!

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They explained to me that they managed large-scale environmental projects around the world and that often times, it is necessary to train locals to operate and manage the systems that are being installed. Someone was needed to develop those training programs. What I learned later was that in bidding on these projects, they had to submit the qualifications of their personnel who would be assigned to that project. Having a registered engineer with education background and a doctorate could only impress the reviewers of these proposals. I said I was interested.!

!

I guess it was in the cards that we go to Boston. Later, after I had joined CDM, I learned what had happened. They had been advertising that position for a couple of weeks. Many resumes had come in but little had been done with the pile of applications. As it turned out, Don Cullivan, president of the International Division, was scheduled for an extensive trip abroad and he was reminded that the Training position needed to be filled before he left. So Don pulled the stack of resumes onto his desk and one of the first ones he looked at (one of the last to arrive) was from this guy down in PA who was a registered engineer, had years of experience in education, and held a doctorate degree to boot. How could they ask for better credentials? So they sent for me and the rest is history.!

!

What is not known is that I was far from the ideal candidate. When I reported aboard, I learned that the full name for the position I now held was actually, "Director Training and Personnel" for the International Division. The word "personnel" had never been

mentioned to me. With my personnel hat on, I was handed the pile of applications for my position, to be filed away. When I went through them, I was blown away with the
 backgrounds of so many that had applied and not made it. People with extensive experience working in the environmental field, particularly in developing countries. I was far from the only candidate with a doctorate or with engineering degrees.!

!

CDM paid all relocation costs and I moved to Boston. Anita remained behind while the girls finished their school year. CDM had a three-bedroom condominium close to the office that they retained for visiting clients and I was allowed to stay there while I was living the bachelor's life. !

!

On weekends, I looked for housing and finally located a house on Old Maple Street in Stoughton. The owners were in the midst of a divorce and had to sell the house in order to complete the division of assets. It was in deplorable condition. That, and the fact that they were under pressure to sell, allowed me to make a lowball offer that they accepted.!

!

Every weekend, I spent in Stoughton patching holes in the walls, painting, and repairing. I ripped out 3,000 square feet of carpeting that smelled from dog urine.!

!

Anita, who by that time had joined me, mopped the barren floor with bleach and disinfectant. I tore off all of the rice paper wall covering that had also absorbed the smell. Little by little, we made it our home and we were to remain there for almost 20 years.!

!

By the end of 1979, we were fully encamped as residents of Massachusetts, I was gainfully employed, and my children had settled in to their new environment. A new decade in my life was about to start.

Chapter 9: 1980 Through 1990 CDM. I Hardly Knew You! I truly enjoyed my employment at CDM where I was an Associate... a notch below the Vice President level. I was immediately caught up in the ambience that is downtown Boston. It was both intoxicating and exhilarating. Within one block on Tremont Street are a cemetery where Benjamin Franklin's parents are buried, and a modern downtown office building. !

!

The old and new seems to blend so well.

Government Center contains the building our offices were located in and across the street are City Hall and the Mayor's office.

On the City Hall Plaza, there was always something going on during the lunch break ... from entertainment to a political demonstration. !

At lunchtime we would eat in one of many restaurants next to Faneuil Hall. The energy in the air was almost contagious and it carried over into the work we were trying to complete on projects around the world. What could be more satisfying than to help bring clean drinking water to villages in Tanzania? Rebuilding the sewer system in Cairo was a massive undertaking but one that would save thousands of lives. And providing better living conditions for the Palestinians in Amman, Jordan were a lofty goal, but bitterly disappointing as the program was hindered by political interventions.!

I had the opportunity to head up a program that was operated out of an office in Washington, DC. It was called WASH (Water and Sanitation for Health). The funding for the program was provided by AID (Agency for International Development). I traveled between Boston and Washington frequently enough to amass many frequent flier miles.!

I hired Dennis Warner as project manager and we became quite a team. We grew to be personal friends, we traveled together to developing countries, and we partnered well in administrating the WASH program. Dennis also introduced me to the sport of running.

Waking me up at 5:00 am (before it got too hot to run) in Tanzania, we ran. Each day, I extended my distance. By the time we left Tanzania, I was up to a mile. At my running peak I was doing 5-6 miles per day.!

Under the WASH program I also made trips to Liberia and Jordan. CDM was also a prime contractor on the rehabilitation of the sewerage system in Cairo, Egypt. I made numerous trips to Egypt on that project. In each case, the training of personnel in these developing countries was an essential service.

But as they say, all good things come to an end, sooner or later. As we moved to the early 1980's, our country fell into a recession that affected all economies. At CDM, we were faced with downsizing and when it was all over, there was no longer an International Division at CDM. Each Division in the company was charged with handling its own international activities and by doing so, one set of overhead expenses was eliminated. One of those administrative expenses was my position.

With my personnel hat on, I supervised the departure and/or re-assignment of all administrative people in the International Division until there was one left...me. Then I was gone.!

!

Performance Development Associates (PDA)! !

It was 1983, I was unemployed and I had a wedding to pay for: at the end of 1982 Mollie became Mollie Wasserman. I was having trouble finding a job. At the age of 46, not too many firms were interested when there were so many younger (less expensive) alternatives available.!

!

Through the more recent years, I had become more and more involved in Human Resource Development (HRD).

Part of it was due to my personnel hat at CDM and much of my interest in that field stemmed from my doctoral studies in Human Behavior. In addition, in order to generate some income, I had started to teach again on a part-time basis at Boston University, Stonehill College, and Massasoitt Community College. At each one, I taught management and/or organizational development courses.!

!

I also did what most unemployed people do when other options are closed to them. I became a consultant. I had a made a few contacts through the Chamber of Commerce and that led to consulting opportunities with local companies. I also made some contacts while at CDM who asked me to do some consulting for them. I created a DBA company called Performance Development Associates and offered my consulting services under that banner. It was in that capacity that I met Morris (Moe) Rodney, an incident that ultimately led to a new career for me.!

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Products Distribution Plus (PDP)!

I met Moe Rodney at a Chamber meeting and he asked me if I would look at his company with a critical eye and make any recommendation I might feel appropriate to improve his operation. PDA was pleased to oblige.!

!

Moe was in the Building Services business with his office in Randolph, MA. He polished wood floors and paneling, he shampooed carpeting, and provided commercial janitorial services and he cleaned acoustical ceiling tiles. For that latter !

service, he had purchased a ceiling cleaning franchise for $12,000 from Acousti-Kleen in Minneapolis. As I examined his books, I couldn't help but notice a number of insurance claims and even law suits, all related to ceiling cleaning.!

!

The ceiling cleaning process that Moe had taken on, was actually one that included the spraying of a bleach (mixed with detergents) on the aged/discolored acoustical ceiling tiles to improve their appearance. When he purchased the franchise, they sold him on the fact that this process would make old ceiling look new. So he, like others who bought similar franchises, marketed this service, promising that kind of result.

When the ceilings failed to look new, when the bleach was dripped on carpeting, when the chlorine odor in the workplace presented employees with an excuse not to work, insurance claims and even law suits resulted.!

!

At first, I was tempted to recommend that Moe forget this service and make do with the other less complex ones he offered. But before doing that I tried to identify the market potential that he would be giving up by turning his back on ceiling cleaning.

That is when my eyes were opened BIG. Hospitals, schools, office buildings, retail stores, airports, bowling centers, and you name it. They all had the same type of ceiling. It seemed as though every building I looked at had acoustical ceiling tiles installed and, sooner or later, they were all future candidates for some kind of refurbishment service.!

!

It was about this time, when I was in the midst of formulating some recommendation for Moe, that I arrived one day at his office. He asked me to come with him. He wanted to show me something. I followed him back to his storeroom where he pointed to the ceiling where he had cleaned one-half of a dirty ceiling tile. He asked, "What do you think of that?" I thought it looked good and told him so. At that point he pulled a ceiling tile sample from an envelope that he had been carrying with him. The sample was half-white and half-discolored. He then held the white portion of the sample against the cleaned side of the tile in the ceiling. The difference in whiteness was remarkable. "Now this is what I call white," he said as he waved the sample in front of me.!

!

A Company in Syracuse, NY, who had sent the sample that he had received, operated under the name of Par Plus Chemicals, Inc. The product that had been sprayed on the sample was a coating marketed under the name of ParCoat. Moe was determined to use this product in the future. I was more cautious. Before starting to market a service based on the use of a particular product, I would first like to know that the product's manufacturer is stable. I encouraged Moe to fly out to Syracuse and check these folks out. He should make sure that they are not working out of a phone booth.

So he did.

Upon his return, he invited me to join him for lunch.

Before, during and after we ate, he told me about his trip.

He started off by saying that he had a problem. I asked him what the problem was and he told me what he had learned and done. First, they did not work out of a phone booth. They had a fully equipped office and a staff of people. They had a mixing tank in the basement and facilities for testing products. They contracted the actual production of their formulation but that was not unusual.

"So, what's the problem?" I asked.!

!

"The problem," he answered, "is that once I saw what I did, I wanted to tie up the product in the Boston area. I asked them about it and they said I could purchase the distributorship for Greater Boston. I told them I would like to and they agreed." "So," I asked again, "What is the problem?"!

!

Moe explained, "When I got on the plane to come home and I thought all of this over, it dawned on me that I don't know anything about merchandising a product." He was committed to a distributorship without the ability to make it happen. That was a problem.!

!

It was there in that restaurant that Products Distribution Plus, Inc. (PDP) was born.

We agreed to partner in a company (PDP) that would assume the distributorship. It was registered as a Massachusetts corporation on October 19, 1983. Moe’s company would be a customer buying the product and PDP would market ParCoat to other building services companies. Since I wasn’t totally booked with consulting assignments, I was able to manage PDP.!

!

Moe has been consumed with greed when he asked to tie up the product in the Boston area. I was no better when I agreed to partner with Moe in PDP. At this point, I was convinced that there was an unlimited and untapped market out there, represented by millions of square feet of acoustical ceiling tiles in need of refurbishment. I knew that all that was required was the proper system for dealing with them... a system that worked where the cleaning process had failed. We now appeared to have the product and I wanted a piece of it.!

!

So, I put up half of the money required by Par Plus for the distributorship. This provided us with considerable inventory as well. We were now in business. But I did this at a price. No one in my family encouraged me in this endeavor. There was something about Moe that bothered Anita. Mollie and her husband Steve (both with MBA's) cautioned against the idea of building a distributorship around one product. As it turned out, they were all right, but so was I.!

Lessons in Entrepreneurship!

Boy was I naive. I had many career experiences but none of them had to do with starting a business or picking partners. When I interviewed a candidate to sell for us, I encountered the first of many learning experiences. This salesman said that as long as Moe Rodney had anything to do with the operation, he was not interested. A red flag went up. When Moe insisted on a handsome rent to use an office in his building, another flag went up. When we made our first sale and Moe insisted on his half of the profit right there on the spot instead of building a financial cushion to operate on. The final flag went up.!

!

I decided to move the office of PDP to Stoughton and made room for it in the lower level of our house. We never charged PDP rent although we could have. This, I explained to Moe was what business owners should do in order to get a business going. You have to prime the pump a little. At least it seemed that way to me. The next thing I knew, Moe was concerned that the checkbook was now housed in Stoughton. Why, I wondered, did that bother him.!

!

So, I approached Moe and told him that in my opinion we were not compatible as partners and that he should buy me out, or the other way around. I felt that we should each be investing in the future growth of the company, not bleeding it right from the start. True to his word, Moe repeated that he knew nothing about merchandizing and offered to sell out to me. The problem was that I didn't have any money to buy him out.!

!

It was at that point that I was beginning to smell a rat in Syracuse. Something about that outfit bothered me. The trouble was that I should have smelled the rat before I went into business with Moe. I drove out to Syracuse and played a bluff that worked. I told them that my attorney had advised me to sue them for false representation. They sold us a franchise without calling it such. They required us to purchase excessive inventory as part of that franchise. Yet, they were not filed with the government as a franchise operation and were liable for their misrepresentation.!

!

The look on their faces told me that my bluff was working. They asked what they could do to satisfy me. I told them I wanted 50% of the moneys returned. I would keep the inventory and was willing to pay 50% for that, but I was not willing to pay the other half. They quickly agreed and I had the money to buy Moe out of the business. To this day, Moe does not know that I bought him out with his own money.

Of course, my concerns with respect to Par Plus Chemical were not satisfied. A little research (what I should have done before the fact) revealed that they had formerly operated under the name of Ceiling Clean International and had gone bankrupt. They shut that business down and opened up again as Par Plus Chemical. These were shysters of the first order and I was building a distribution business based on a product that they were to provide. Oh, boy. That was like swinging a baseball bat while standing on a skateboard ... not only would I not hit the ball, but also I would most likely fall on my butt. I was fairly certain that Par Plus would be there long enough to gather together some serious money from other franchisees and then they would be gone.!

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I sat down with Anita and laid out our options: (1) We could continue PDP and hope that I was wrong about Par Plus, (2) We could shut it down and write off our losses as an expensive lesson in entrepreneurship, or (3) We could go about developing our own product as an insurance policy. I must add at this point that this discussion was not a pleasant one since Anita had been opposed to this whole idea from the start.

Now, with a considerable portion of egg on my face, I was admitting to having made some serious (and costly) mistakes.!

!

I was certain that Par Plus would be gone within a year (actually it turned out to be eight months) and when that happened all of their franchisees would need product If PDP were to close down, those contractors who I had sold on the idea of re-coating ceilings would be out whatever investment they had made. Some part of my decision was based on greed (I wanted to be selling these franchisees product), some part of the decision was based on altruism (could not turn my back on the contractors), but most of my decision was based on the fact that I hated to admit defeat. I didn't want to lose what we had invested and I was determined to prove that there was a market for the right product. I just didn't have the foggiest idea of how I was going to do it.!

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The Birth of ProCoat!

Now, looking back over the past 23 years I still don't know how we did it. But did it, we did. It started with a young man I knew who had some ideas about what such a formulation would consist of and his willingness to share those ideas for some consideration. I was able to work out a deal where he shared his insight with us and in return, we would pay him a modest amount per gallon once the product began to sell.!

!

We also agreed that this arrangement would have a fixed life so that after some finite time, he would be paid off and we could move forward on our own. We ultimately paid! him off and have owned the formulation since.

By this time, I was already being referred to as "a professional in a very unprofessional business." We had to come up with a name for our product and because of my "reputation," I decided on "ProCoat - The Professional's Choice." In 1985, we officially changed the name of the company from PDP to ProCoat Products, Inc. (PPI).!

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Through some networking, I was able to identify Shawsheen Chemical Company who would manufacture ProCoat... this is called toll manufacturing. This company, located just south of the New Hampshire border, not only produced our formulation but helped to streamline the product from a quality standpoint. A major problem arose when the owner decided to retire and he sold out to a chemical firm in Central Massachusetts who wished to expand their operation into the coatings business. The downside of this merger is that they knew nothing about producing coatings and the quality of our product declined rapidly.!

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Carmine Iannuzzi!

There was a toll manufacturer in Taunton, MA who I had attempted to contact earlier and because I had failed to do so, I had elected to contact Shawsheen Chemical. I now made a renewed effort to talk with them. The gentleman I spoke with was candid in that he was not able to take on another product. But he did know of another company who might serve us well, Camger Chemical Systems, Inc. in Norfolk, MA. He told me the owner's name was Carmine Iannuzzi and that he would go so far as to introduce me and set up a meeting.!

!

I later found out that he owed Carmine considerable monies and that it was his hope that Carmine would reduce the debt via a finder's fee on my product purchases. In truth, he had taken advantage of Carmine, leading to this debt and as a result, Carmine was highly suspicious of this proposed meeting. To Carmine's credit, he did not paint me with a broad brush, based on his feelings for this person. He was content to rely on his own experiences with a person as a basis for an evaluation. I was to learn that Carmine Iannuzzi was one of the finest and fairest individuals I have ever met and as time passed he became my best friend. Needless to say, he agreed to make ProCoat for us and with his help we perfected that formulation and the production technique. Camger Chemical would still be making ProCoat had Carmine not passed away suddenly as he and I were approaching our 60th birthday. I made it... he didn't.

Chapter 10: 1990 Through 2000 Business is Business!

It is not the purpose of these writings to discuss ProCoat in detail. Let us just say, that while we floundered around and ultimately found Carmine, we also floundered around identifying the best way of selling product. At this writing, we are in our 23rd year. Last year, we hit our high-water mark in sales and have optimistic views of sales this year as well. Lisa has been in the business for 13 years and before that, Sherri made positive contributions through a relentless sales skill that paid dividends. I shall always be highly appreciative of their respective contributions. And I am proud to say that I have learned from them both.!

While I have received frequent overtures with regard to selling the business, I feel that if I do so, it will be for that proverbial offer that "is to good to turn down." That offer has yet to come and I am quite content to move on with the current succession plan that calls for Lisa to take over the reins as we move forward.!

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The Lure of Cape Cod! One of the most reckless, spur-of-themoment financial decisions we ever made was when we bought the timeshare on the Cape. It was an old building with absolutely no amenities.

From an investment standpoint, it was a poor choice. But there were positive factors that out-weighed the mere economics that made the overall decision a good one.!

First, it represented a built-in two weeks per year of vacation time. Who ever heard of a Woolf (other than Uncle Jack) taking a vacation? For the years we had that time-share, Anita and the girls would spend that week together and I would join them for the weekend. To this day, they still talk about those times and those memories will always remain.!

Secondly, it introduced us to the Cape and made it clear that two isolated weeks per year was not enough to satisfy us. That led us to buy a condo in Mashpee where we could go any weekend we wished and where our children could go as well. At any time, we could get the urge and drive to the Cape. There we would have waiting for us a fully furnished and equipped living facility to be enjoyed. It was great.!

Soon, we were prepared for the next step and that was to purchase a house lot where, someday, we would build a house and retire. So, it became a usual activity when we were on the Cape to look around at lots. What we found and quickly settled on came to our attention only because of Anita's unique intuition.!

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We were driving down a street and saw an Open House sign in front of an old wooden structure that was clearly not anything we would be interested in buying. Anita asked me to stop and I asked why. She said that an open house meant that there was a bored real estate agent in there with no one to talk to. Who knows, we might learn something. !

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Sure enough, there was a bored real estate agent in there that was only too happy to have someone to talk to. And it was he who knew of a development where there were lots available in a community that had the amenities we were looking for in particular. That location is Green Pond Estates and that is just where we found a great house lot within our budget.!

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Carmine Passes Away!

It was 1996 and I was on a trip, heading home, going north on the New Jersey Turnpike. It was a Thursday and I was due back to the office on Friday morning. About 4:00 pm or so, I suddenly got the urge to take a break at the next service center. I pulled off the ramp and stopped next to the pay phones. I didn't have a cell phone at that time.!

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I called Carmine. I did not have a specific reason to call other than to say hello.

Carmine was exactly three months older than me and we had been talking about the four of us doing something to commemorate our 60th birthday. I remember chatting about and a few other topics of no particular urgency. Following the call, I got back in the car and resumed my trip home.!

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In the morning, I arrived at the office to find Lisa with tears in her eyes. Asking what was wrong, she explained that I had just received a call from the Iannuzzi's that Carmine had passed away. As it turned out, he had finished his call with me the afternoon before, cleared off his desk and gone home. There, he kissed Theresa and left for his regular Rotary Club meeting. Carmine had a beautiful deep singing voice and it was customary that he lead the group in singing the national anthem and sometimes a happy birthday song for a member. This time, he finished singing and as he sat down, he died. His doctor was sitting next to him and could not revive him.

Carmine was gone.!

Carmine's passing was at best a sobering experience for me. In Yiddish, there is an old expression that my Papa Woolf often quoted. It says, "Menchen tracht unt got lacht." Translated, it means mat while mankind can plot, plan and scheme about what they intend to do, G-d is laughing since it is only He who knows what will truly be. I began thinking about the uncertainty of what the future may hold. With all of our talk, right up to the day he died, Carmine never lived for the joint celebration of our 60th birthday. Who really knows what will be and perhaps it is not wise to plan to far into the future.!

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For me personally, Carmine's passing represented the loss of a dear friend and valuable business associate. But at the same time, in a positive way, his passing also served as a wake-up call and a re-evaluation of what is really important in ones life.!

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Green Pond - Here We Come!

I suggested to Anita that we not wait until we retired to build at Green Pond. True, I would have an hour's commute each way, every day. But compared to the long car trips I was so accustomed to, that was not too bad a sacrifice. Citing my new found vision of how little we know about what will be, I suggested we design and build our home on the Cape. Let us enjoy it for whatever time we have. Let us not wait. I reminded Anita of how Carmine had gone from a vibrant and hearty person to a fond and dear memory without warning. I also told her about Uncle Max Schwartz who always said, “Someday, I am going to move to Florida." He died at 41 and never saw Florida again. We truly don't know what will be and we should not put too much on hold or it may never be.!

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So it came to pass that Anita finally designed her dream house. Is it perfect, no. If she had it to do over again, would it be different, yes. But for the most part it is what she wanted and we are happy to be living in it for the past 11 years. There is plenty of room for our children to visit and not be under foot. And we enjoy living on the Cape.!

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Problems at Camger!

The late 1990's were replete with product problems at ProCoat. With Carmine gone, the running of the company fell to his children who were not compatible in one business. Soon, Michael, the eldest son, left to start up his own computer company.

He remains on good terms with the younger brother Danny, and in fact services the!

Camger computer system. While Debbie, the eldest daughter, still comes in part-time to handle record keeping chores, the management of the company is fully the responsibility of Danny.!

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Under Dan's supervision, there was a drop in morale that became very apparent from our perspective. Quality control problems turned out to be due to the fact that the employees just didn't care enough to pay attention to what they were doing. We had two product recalls in the latter 1990's, each of which cost us tremendous amounts of money as well as a loss of credibility in the marketplace. During the last part of the decade, our gross sales and profitability took a tumble that almost sunk the ProCoat ship.!

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A change had to be made. After 12 years of working with Camger, I had to make a change. Leaving Camger meant turning my back on my friend's business. It almost felt disloyal and caused me to visit the cemetery. I sat by Carmine's grave and it was if he was there, convincing me (as he would have had he been alive) that I needed to do what was best for ProCoat. I did and that led me to California Products Corporation and the rest is a matter of record.!

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As we approached the end of 1999, we were getting back on our feet. Our sales were beginning to approach earlier highs, and the future looked promising. As it turned out, the coming years would be marked by a host of events that would shape my life and the world as well.!

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Chapter 11: 2000 Through 2006 So much has happened since the start of this decade of both a personal and national/ international perspective. And there is so much to go before we reach 2010, that I shudder to think what else awaits us.!

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ProCoat!

From a business standpoint, I was convinced that as we began the New Year in 2000, we were poised for a break through. Our annual sales were on the upswing following the problems in the latter 1990's. We had perfected our formulation and the production procedures, we had identified a great and responsive toll manufacturer in California Products Corporation. And best of all, we had finally struck on the right combination of marketing efforts to yield the best results.!

But with the start of the new decade, came the first of two terms under the rule of George W. Bush and his handlers. There is no doubt that even before he took office, the economy was taking a turn downward. But the mismanagement of this administration only tended to speed the process along and to exacerbate the situation. By the beginning of 2001, our business, as well as so many others, was feeling the affects. As the months passed we kept hoping that the next month would be better. And of course it wasn't.!

Then came September 11, 2001 and our personal problems became minute in comparison to those of our country as a whole. We were once again at war. This time our enemy does not wear uniforms and represents no particular country. It will be a long war that may never end and will at best result in an enemy that is contained but not defeated.!

Sales dropped about 30% in 2001 and it took until 2004 to build it back. In 2005, we had a record year and as I write this in 2006, we have hopes for another one. We have plans to add another sales person who can make it possible for me to back off a little more but continue to keep my hand in it as conditions permit. From this point forward it is Lisa's ship to steer.!

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The Passing of My Father!

Every Friday, like clockwork, I would call my Dad and wish him a "Good Shabbos." The custom began when we moved away from Tampa and settled in Houston. It was as much a ritual between us as "getting lost" had been many years ago. There were times when I would call him on a day other than Friday and he would ask why I was calling. I would say, "I just wanted to hear your voice ... talk to me." The phrase "talk to me" began then to take on a special meaning.

Years later, I remember standing with him at the cemetery in Tampa looking at the graves of Bubby and Zadie Kahan. Dad pointed to the three spaces to their left and said that he and Mom would occupy the two farthest away from the folks, leaving one space in the middle. I asked what that space was to be used for. He said, "G-d forbid, should a single member of the family need it, the space is there. Otherwise, put a bench there so if one of you guys wants to visit, there will be a place to sit while you "talk to me.�!

!

I'll never know why I felt compelled to call Dad that Thursday morning. It wasn't Friday and I didn't have a specific purpose for the call. It was just one of those times when I felt a need to hear his voice. I remember walking out to the garage because I got better reception on the cell phone out there. He asked what was up and I simply said, "Talk to me�.!

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He had not been feeling well. I had suspected that it was pretty bad when he said that he didn't feel able to make the trip to Boston for Josh's Bar Mitzvah. He and Josh had developed as close a relationship as I had ever seen him have with any of his grandchildren. Pictures of Josh and me at the same age shows a striking similarity, so it could be that Dad's feelings for Josh stem from his recollection of me at those same ages.!

!

It was early when I called Dad. Mom had not yet got out of bed. So we talked. He said he was feeling a lot better and was thinking of going to the bowling alley later that day ... not to bowl but to hang out with his friends. Finally, he told me he could hear Mom stirring about and that he had better get started making breakfast for the two of them. I said goodbye and told him I would call the next day for my regular Shabbos call.!

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After hanging up the phone, he cooked breakfast and they had that meal together. He washed the dishes and left the kitchen while Mom put everything away. After she finished in the kitchen, Mom went into the living room and sat down in her chair. Dad was seated in his. She said something to him and he did not answer. Without necessarily looking over, she repeated herself and again he didn't answer. When she did look over at him, it was apparent that something was terribly wrong. She called for help, but none of it, nor the paramedics that came to the scene, could save him. Dad was gone.!

!

Dad had said that when the time came that he could no longer bowl, he would be ready to lie down in that box. After a number of weeks when his 88-year-old legs wouldn't perform, it was time for him to lie down. And he did.!

Dad had a tradition of giving to each Bar Mitzvah boy in the family, a plaque that commemorated the event. As Joshua's Bar Mitzvah grew near, he sent me the plaque with the instruction, "If for any reason I cannot be there, please see that Josh gets this." Dad passed away the day before Josh's Bar Mitzvah. The Bar Mitzvah was held on schedule because Dad would have wanted it that way. I presented the plaque to Josh in Dad's name.!

! ! !

Life After Dad! Following Dad's passing and the week of Shivah, Mom had to begin looking toward the future and what she wanted to do. One thing was very apparent; she could not be left alone in Tampa.

Decision time came when Sherri had to return home but could not bring herself to leave Mom unattended. So, she put the choice to Mom as follows (paraphrased), "Bubby, you can come home with me or I will take you to any one of your boy's homes but you must decide where you want to go." Mom chose to go stay with Murray, at least for a while.!

!

So, Sherri packed Mom's belongings and they flew to Denver where Murray waited at the airport with a new winter coat for Mom. As it turned out, this stage of Mom's life (in Denver) was full of strife, repeated life cycles from home to hospital, mini-strokes, and an aborted approach to a nursing home solution. Mom's health went from bad to worse and Murray's inability to cope with it all exacerbated the situation. Throughout all of this, various members of the family made repeated trips to Denver as Murray continued to seek help in coping with the situation. Steve in particular, not only traveled out there repeatedly, but was also in direct contact with the medical personnel on a daily basis.!

!

Finally, Mom had another incident that caused Steve and I to go to Denver. Mom looked terrible. She sat there in her wheelchair with the oxygen tubes running to her nose, crying. At this point, the doctors were suggesting that Mom had another week to go. It was obvious to me that something had to be tried different than what has been done thus far. I asked her doctor and Steve what the odds were that she could handle an airplane trip to Boston. Their answer was "50-50." So, I asked, "What do we have to lose?" We packed her up and headed to the airport.!

!

Prior to leaving for Denver we had done a survey of available nursing homes located in our side of Boston. We had located one in particular that seemed to offer the most of what we felt was essential... on-staff medical personnel, rehab, kosher food, and a

location that would allow us to keep daily tabs on her. We could find no facility that was ideal in every way but Tower Hills seemed to be the best of what was immediately available. Before leaving for Denver, I told the administrator there that there was a chance I would be bringing my mother back with me and asked if they were in a position to admit her. They said that they would take care of it. They could not promise that she would immediately have a room to herself, but in an interim basis, she could share a room until a single opened up.!

!

When we arrived in Boston, we went directly to Tower Hills in Canton, MA. We called ahead as we drove, and when we arrived the staff was waiting with a wheelchair at the front door.!

!

Mom at Tower Hills!

Mom was not planning to like her new environment. To begin with, it was a Nursing Home and who wants to be in a Nursing Home. But more of a problem came from the fact that she had been convinced that the family in Boston couldn't care less about her welfare. I, in particular, was not a caring son and none of my offspring (with the exception of Sherri) were any better. This is what we had to deal with psychologically right from the start. With those feelings in the forefront of her mind, it was impossible for her to see the half-full glass in front of her.!

!

It was a battle. I felt that she had to find a purpose for living. My mother was always a! very independent individual and if I could just get her to fight... anything would do ... it! may provide her something to focus on beside herself. As it turned out, her new roommate was just what the doctor ordered. Anne Cohen refused to cater to Mom. Around Tower Hill, Anne was referred to as "The Mayor." Anne knew everyone there and how to best deal with every issue. She tried at first to show Mom the ropes but Mom wanted things done for her, just as Murray had done in Denver. I refused to play that game. Mom got mad at Anne for not being more sympathetic to her plight. All Anne said was, "Jo, get over it.�!

!

Little by little, Mom started to take hold of her life. She found that when she was hungry it was far easier to go into the Dining Room and eat than it was to wait in her room to be fed. We took her off the oxygen and she did fine. That gave her more mobility.

We got her started in physical therapy and she got back on her feet pushing her walker (the Cadillac) in front of her.!

!

And then the biggest contribution to her rehabilitation was when she got her own room. We hung her pictures and bought her furniture. We got her a small refrigerator that allowed her to

keep some food in her own room. I built a stand for the refrigerator that raised it sufficiently off the floor so that she didn't have to bend over too much, to get into it. I bought her a new television and a cabinet to set it on that also housed some of her trinkets. Most of her day she would sit reading in her comfortable reclining chair. She proudly showed off her room to the many that found it unique.!

!

Sherri would pick her up every once in a while and take her to the hairdresser around the corner from Tower Hill. We arranged for a local transfer service where we bought a number of tickets she could use for transportation. Perhaps the high point in her rehabilitation came when she called me at the office, all excited. "Guess what I did," she asked. She went on to tell me that she had made her own appointment with the hairdresser, called the transport company to pick her up, had her hair done, and come back to Tower Hill... all by herself, without anyone in the family helping her.!

!

Mom never did get to the point where she would say that the food at Tower Hill was good. But, she hadn't liked the food at Canterbury (where she and Dad had lived last), she hated the food at Shalom Park in Denver, so why should she feel this was any better? So, like most others there, she complained about the food.!

!

She liked her doctor. She loved her room. She even had a few friends with whom she enjoyed spending time. Soon she arrived at a point where she was reasonably healthy and capable of going shopping, visiting the family, and participating in whatever activities they had that she cared about.!

!

But something even more important was taking place. Through her own experience, as opposed to hearing through others, she was seeing first hand that her son Ken was a lot more committed to her than she had been led to believe. Even better than that, Sherri was not the only granddaughter in Boston who cared for her. !

!

Mollie stayed with her the very first night she was at Tower Hills, in case she should wake in the middle of the night and not see a familiar face. Lisa and the girls would stop by a few times a week to bring her books and to visit. Sherri and Lisa shared the task of taking her dirty laundry home and returning it clean. She found that all of them expressed love and affection for Bubby.

The relationship between Mom and Anita was interesting to watch. Mom grew to thoroughly look forward to Anita's visits.

They had certain things in common that Mom acknowledged such as Anita's way of handling money and her shopping skill.

Mom would say that out of the whole family, Anita was the only one she would feel comfortable about giving her a shopping list and money. Anita was also one generation older than the others who visited her from our family. Hence, the had a more common set of values that they both respected. !

!

On more than one occasion Mom asked me why everyone was so good to her. In truth, Mom had ignored me and mine for many years. She and Dad and not attended Sherri's or Lisa's weddings (intermarriage issue) and made few if any trips to visit us no matter where we lived. Mom knew that deep down she had done little to deserve all of the attention that our family was giving her and she couldn't understand why.!

!

Each of my children can answer for themselves why they did what they did. I did my share for a few reasons. Not necessarily in the order of importance, they include: (1) As a son, it was my responsibility, (2) It was the right thing to do, (3) Dad would have wanted me to do what I did and, (4) I had to set an example so that my children would see beyond their respective hurts and do the right thing.!

!

Mom visited all our homes on many occasions. Chanukah at Mollie's house, Pesach Seders and Yom Tov at our home, Thanksgiving Day at Sherri's, and various gettogethers at Lisa's home, were all events that Mom shared in while she was here. Life was as good for her as it was going to get.!

!

Outside Influences!

Mom was feeling great and in fact, so good that she wanted to take a trip to Nashville and visit for a couple weeks with Bob and Barbara. After her return, there was talk of her moving from Tower Hill to a nursing home in Nashville. Bob was obviously campaigning for such a change in venue. He even went so far as to draw up a list of factors, grading them 1 - 10 in importance, in such a way as to make it clear that she would be better off in Nashville. Murray told her that if she were in Nashville, he would be able to make the shorter trip from Denver more often.!

!

While Mom had been in Nashville they visited a nursing home where Mom was to stay if she moved. Perhaps, had Mom not broken her foot, it would have worked out better

than it did. But once she found herself in a cast, not quite as mobile as she had been, she started to slip. Yet, the question of her moving hung over her head. It was apparent that she was dealing with pressure to make the move. She was smart enough to know that the care she might receive in Nashville was an unknown as compared to where she was, where she knew what she had. With respect to her uncertainty of what may be in Nashville, she was counseled, "You'll never know unless you try." As for the pressure she was obviously under, she told me that she wanted to make the move and get it over with. Her doctor felt like she could physically make the trip, but the relocation was not advisable. The administrative people at Tower Hill were concerned that the elderly find major changes very hard to cope with, particularly when they are not well. It could be traumatic, they cautioned.!

!

And so one day, when Mom said she had thought it over and she wanted to move to Nashville, I called Bob and told him to come and get her. He did. It hurt so many people here who had put so much of their being into her rehabilitation. In the face of all the advice we were receiving against such a move, it raised the question in their minds as to what it had all been for.!

!

The last few months of Mom's life took place in Nashville where she grew to regret leaving Boston. She asked Sherri if she could come back but by that time, she was so bad off that another trip was out of the question. In all the complaining I had heard from my mother in all the years I knew her, I never heard her so unhappy... hating with a fury the conditions in which she now found herself.!

!

Nature has a way of dealing with all situations. And so it passed that Mom finally suffered a stroke that made the final difference. When I arrived at her hospital bedside in Nashville, she could not speak or acknowledge anything around her. I asked her to squeeze my finger if she could hear me and I felt her hand tighten. As I stood there, her grip tightened until I could lift her arm by pulling up. She knew I was there and with that final exchange, she said goodbye. Within a day, she had gone to be with Dad.!

!

Life Without Parents!

Suddenly, I had joined the ranks of so many that had lost both of their parents.

On top of that, the realization set in that I was now the senior member of the family. In that role, perhaps I have responsibilities that I need to assume, but I think that if they exist, they are few.

The best thing I can do is to continue my life in such a way as to set a good

example and to make sure I leave as my heritage, a good and honorable name for those who follow behind me.!

!

The fact that I had the urge to call him on his last day is a further testimonial to the close relationship that Dad and I had between us. That was not the first time but in fact the last of many such instances where we knew there was a need to talk. He would call me at times when I was particularly low and needed to hear from him and visa versa. He was my father, my friend and my big brother. When I hear a good Jewish joke, I still have an impulsive urge to call him and say, "Hey, I got a good one for you.�!

!

Perfect he was not. But he was an honest man who always meant well. He did what he thought was right and was strong enough to stand up and be held accountable for his actions. Perhaps the reason I have never shed a tear at his passing is due to the fact that he never left. He is always with me. I can picture telling him a good joke and I can hear his laughter. I can sense his presence, see his face, and feel his warmth.!

!

During her stay here in the Boston area, the relationship between my mother and me underwent an interesting metamorphose. We were never close. I was the child she gave away in Medway back in 1939. She bought my clothes and cooked my meals, but I never felt the warmth of a mother that I heard my brothers refer to over the years. When I was a child, and I hurt myself, it was my Bubby who I would run to for comfort. She would wrap her arms around me and pull me to her (ample) breast in such a way that I felt warm, protected, and loved. But not my mother.!

!

By the time Mom arrived in Boston a few years ago, the word love had not been used by either of us for a long, long time. It is sad, to say the least. Toward the end of her stay, as her view of me changed to the more positive, I felt her reaching out with an occasional, "I love you." Frankly, I found it hard to reciprocate lest I be hypocritical in doing so. In those last moments, as she clung to my finger in that Nashville hospital, a wordless message passed between us that all was at last well. May she rest in peace.!

Sherri Makes a Big Decision!

One day Sherri called and asked me to get Mom on the extension. I did. She then informed us that she and Brad had made the decision to move her family to Asheville, NC. Until this point we had smugly enjoyed the fact that our children lived within a reasonable distance from us. Even moving to the Cape did not take away from our ability to stay in close touch with one another. The natural reaction to what she told us was one of disappointment. After all, we love her and her family and what parents wouldn't feel a sense of loss with such news.!

!

My first reaction, though, was to recall the time we told my parents that we were leaving Tampa to go to school in Houston. We were taking their only grandchild with us and were not certain we would ever return. We asked them to understand that we needed to make our own way and to lead our own life. So, how could we deny Sherri the same opportunity if they felt that this is something that would be best for them. She didn't ask our advice before making the decision any more than we asked my folk's opinion when we made ours. We made it a point to raise our girls to be independent thinkers. We should then be wise enough to support their independence and make the most of it.!

!

Since their move, we have got together on a few occasions and will visit as much as we can, here or there. Our grandchildren seem to be acclimating themselves well and that is well. Sherri reports progress in building their business in Asheville but that takes time. We can only wish them the best and move on.!

!

A Look Back!

Let's face it, I couldn't miss there for a little while. I graduated with my bachelor’s degree in 1966. Four years later, I was a department head under Hugh McCallick and! had picked up a master's degree along the way with some great industrial experience in aerospace to boot. Two years later I was an Assistant Dean at FIU in Miami. And three years further, I was the Director of The Center for Technological Studies in Mississippi and had added a doctoral degree. In truth, when meteors rise, they usually fall as some point. So did I.!

!

In all that has occurred thus far, I do see a pattern. Everything that happens somehow becomes a part of a long-term plan. Such a plan is not always apparent at the time!

an event happens, but when the dust settles, we often find ourselves better off for each experience.!

!

We felt wiped out after the fire at Serv-All Furniture Service in Tampa. Yet, who is to say whether I would have ever taken that major step of entering college were it not for the need to face the future in the wake of the fire. That led to my moving away from Tampa, getting out from my father’s shadow, and growing up as an independent human being.!

!

Three times I found myself unemployed at a time when losing one’s job was socially viewed as an indication of failure. The first time, in Mississippi, I became seriously depressed and had a hard time coping with the fact that I had been fired. I tried justifying it because of all that went on prior to having my position eliminated. But I could not shake the question of whether I could have handled the situation differently, such that I came out of it better off. Now I see those periods of unemployment as opportunities to grow as a person. I learned to cope with setbacks and to use them as springboards toward a better situation. I also see them as opportunities for personal growth through a little humiliation.!

!

I remember in Mississippi, checking out books from the library on depression and reading up on it as much as possible. I felt that if I understood it better I would more likely be able to cope with it. This, coupled with my doctoral studies, fueled my interest in human resource development. Later I would consult in that field.!

!

Had CDM not been forced to downsize, I would never have been put in the position of starting my own business. Now, in the twilight of my entrepreneurial career, I can take comfort in the development of ProCoat. Acoustical ceiling restoration has become a mini-industry. We have contractors doing the work around the country (and elsewhere in the world) and competitors who have tried to emulate our operation. It all began with us and no matter who is benefiting from its existence, we can take pride in starting it all in motion.!

!

It has been an interesting ride and the best part about it is that it is not over yet. There are still things for me to do, the most important of which is to be a better husband and partner for Anita. So much of our life has centered on my career and business activity, at the sake of our personal life.

That must change and will change. Then I can add another chapter to this epistle.!

Chapter 12: My Partner in Life I have been quite fortunate. In my lifetime, I have experienced positive influences from my father and other family members, as well as from a number of professional acquaintances that served as mentors and friends. I don't know where my professional life would have led were it not for the wise counsel and direction afforded me by such individuals as Ardis White, Hugh McCallick and Carmine Iannuzzi.!

But as much an influence as they may have had on me, no one can come close to Anita. When we first met, I was a high school student who knew no social graces. I didn't even know how to dance. That required coming in close proximity of a girl and I didn't know how to do that either. You might say that I felt very inadequate around females.!

I lacked self-confidence and most of all, I was a Cy Woolf clone who had no independent thoughts of his own. I lacked so much in the way of individual characteristics that were both my own and definable, that I have wondered through these many years just what Anita ever saw in me at the time.!

But, she obviously saw enough to where she agreed to spend her life with me and I am better off by far for the experience. No matter what she has ever done in her life she
 either attempted to do it right or she did not try at all. When we first married, it was
 obvious to her that I wanted a kosher home. She set about doing it right and as a look
 ing back I cannot help but recognize that she kept a more kosher and clean home than did my mother.!

Through the years, Anita perfected the task of shopping to an art form. My mother told me on a number of occasions that Anita was the one person she would feel comfortable handing a shopping list and money to knowing that what came back was what she would have purchased herself.!

Another area where Anita grew to excel is in money management. It is true that someone else might have amassed far more than Anita by buying and selling stocks. But, that may have also run contrary to her conservative approach. Moving funds from one bank to another, depending on available rates and knowing just how long to tie up the money is easier said than done. Every day Anita reads the business section of the newspaper and seeks out as much information as she can get her hands around, in order to get a sense of where the financial world is moving. Whatever we have today and whatever we may have in the future, is the direct result of Anita's management skill.!

Before buying an appliance she would study up on the item to the point where she knew to ask questions that most sales personnel were unprepared to answer. The consummate

researcher, she looked for value and on only few occasions failed to acquire it.!

!

When I am the recipient of compliments about our girls, I thank the person. But, I quickly point out that it was Anita more so than I who shaped their values and set an example for them to emulate. !

!

In all these areas and more, Anita was so far ahead of me on the curve that I could only follow the example she set. And as I followed and learned from her, I became a more complete person. I contributed to our marriage the only way I knew how, through hard work, dedication, and being true to the one love in my life.!

!

Next year, we will celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary. It is hard to believe how quickly those years have passed. Time does pass quickly when you are having fun.

Or so they say. Our three girls are happily married and have blessed us with seven grand children. From here on we shall make every effort to enjoy what we have left together. I owe her that and so much more. And by the way, we know far more today about what love really is than we ever did 50 years ago.!

!

Over the years, I have come to realize that success in marriage takes more than love between the two parties. It is friendship, a partnership and above all, a respect for each other that is so well grounded that it needs not be discussed or questioned. It is just there. It is not respect for a specific skill set but instead for that person as a human being that has won that esteem through actions and deed. I respectfully submit that whatever I am today, I owe to the greatest extent, to Anita ... my friend, my partner, my lover and my life.!

!

! ! !

Chapter 12: My Family Next to spending the greatest portion of my life with Anita, my most valued gift in life has been my immediate family. Of course, for that I owe one more to Anita for without her it would not have been these particular children with which I have been blessed. Most assuredly there would have been others, with another mate, but they wouldn't have been these particular individuals who represent a mixture of our genes in the best possible way.!

My three girls are three unique personalities. Yet, they all have certain characteristics in common. They are all independent thinkers and are not disinclined to stand up for what they believe, even if it isn't a popular opinion. They are honest and true to their respective mates and have dedicated themselves to raising their own children in what each of them believes is a just and rightful way. They are hard working and project a strong example for their children. And while two have chosen to spend the rest of their lives with husbands who are not of our faith, they have all made an effort to expose their children to the rich traditions of our religion and its basic tenets.!

My girls chose to marry before they had children and in this day, that is not occurrence that is to be taken lightly. Each of my daughters has come to share their lives with young men of different backgrounds and personalities. But like my daughters, they all have certain characteristics in common. They are first and foremost loving and caring partners in life for my daughters and for this I shall always be grateful to each of them. All three are hard working providers for my seven grandchildren. I rest comfortable in knowing that under whatever circumstances may befall them, they will see to it that my daughters are cared for and my grandchildren have what they need to succeed in life. Steve, Brad and Jay are three sons more than they are sons-in-law. To them I say thank you.!

Finally, there are seven grandchildren who are as uniquely different as their parents are and as a result, a blessing to Anita and I. From Jeff, the eldest, to Kara the youngest, they are special in every way. Already they are showing signs of their rich future and I find myself hoping that Anita and I will live long enough to share in the future accomplishments they all have in store. !

In all of what I have said, there should be little doubt that Anita and I have been blessed.

What more could we ask for? And with all that we have been granted, asking for more would be pure Chutzpah. Maybe we didn't make all the best decisions and perhaps there are many things we could have done differently but when it is all said and done, it didn't work out too bad, did it? I don’t think so.

Appendix: Random Thoughts Lessons at Houghton's Pond (Mid 1940's)!

After a long summer day working at the gas station on Norfolk Street, a dip in the cool waters of Houghton's Pond was the best way to end the day. Of course, when Dad first took me up into the Blue Hills outside of Boston, I did not know how to swim. So what does a father do in a case like that? He teaches his son to swim. However, child psychologists would hardly recommend Dad's approach.!

We walked out onto the dock and he threw me into the water. In retrospect, he was but seconds away from me, should I have needed help. And it is true that the experience could have left me terrified of the water for the rest of my life. But, in this case it worked. I yelled, "Help!!" He answered, "Kick your feet and paddle." When I realized he was still on the dock, I started kicking my feel and paddling. And son of a gun, I didn't sink. "Look at me, Dad, I'm swimming!"!

With time and with his coaching my style improved considerably. Each day, after closing the station, we would ride up to Houghton's Pond in the Blue Hills and take a swim. It was one of many memories I have of Dad and I as friends, doing things together.!

In truth, Houghton's Pond had an undercurrent that claimed a number of lives. Eventually, it was closed to swimming.

Many years later when I returned to Boston after having lived elsewhere in the country, I was saddened by not being able to go there for a swim and capture old memories.!

The large parking lot at Houghton's Pond also served as the site of another kind of lesson. That is where Mom learned to drive. I remember sitting in the back seat of our car as she practiced backing up. On this particular occasion, I looked out the back window and saw her heading for a tree stump. I yelled, "Mom,..." and she said "Please be quiet I have to concentrate." I tried again, "Mom, ..." Again she replied, "I said please be quiet." About then, there was a crash and a groan. The bend in the back bumper remained for as long as we had that car.

Life in League City (1966)!

When we moved to League City, TX, I had graduated from U of H and was now a self-respecting wage earner. For the first time in a long time, I didn't have to study. I could come home from work and do whatever I wished. I could even get involved with activities apart from my work. As it turned out, Mollie helped point me in that direction. !

!

With the arrival of Sherri on the scene in 1966, Mollie was no longer our only child.

Bob, who was a special person in Mollie's life, had elected to share an apartment with a classmate near the U of H campus as opposed to staying with us and commuting from League City. We needed to provide Mollie with something else in her world to focus on other than these issues.!

!

The Clear Creek Country Theater (locally referred to as the "CCC") was located in the center of League City, about five minutes from our house. A local announcement advertised the auditions for an up-coming play, "Finian's Rainbow." Mollie exhibited an enthusiastic interest in auditioning for one of the children's roles. We discussed it and decided that I would take her down for auditions. If she were selected, I would be the one to take her to rehearsals.!

!

When we arrived at the theater we found three tables... each with a pad of paper and a pen. If you wished to audition for a singing part, you signed your name on one pad. If you wanted to read for an acting part, you signed at another table. And finally, if you wished to audition as a dancer, you placed your name on a third pad of paper. Without any hesitation or sign of apprehension, Mollie proceeded to place her name on all three pads.!

!

When they called for her to dance, she climbed up on that stage and pounded it furiously with her feet with a vague resemblance to rhythm. For singing, she sang "Do, Re, Me." And then she read for an acting part. With each "performance," I slid lower in my seat. Perhaps Mollie's additional asset was her red hair. What else could be better for an Irish-based play than a redhead? Within a few days, we received a call. Mollie had been selected to play one of the sharecropper's children.!

!

And so I began taking Mollie to rehearsals and waiting to bring her home. While waiting, I saw the stage crew building sets and recognized work that I could help out on since I was there anyway. I offered my help and it was quickly accepted. I was now part of the set crew.

At one point in the play, the leading male performer says, "If I am lying, then let me turn black right here and now." How do you turn someone black on stage? The director was innovative and looked directly at me. The male lead and I were about the same build. So here is how it happened. I dressed in the same white suit he wore, had black makeup on my face and hands, and crept onto the stage, hiding behind a sofa that was on the set. As he said the words, " .... right here and now," he walked behind the sofa where I was hiding. There was a crash of symbols, the lights went out and then on. In that brief second, he dropped behind the sofa and I stood up with an amazed look on my face. The curtain came down, as that was the end of that act.!

!

That was my initiation to acting. I set a record for the most makeup for the least amount of time on stage. In the next two years, my activity at the theater increased to where I was Technical Director on a couple of shows and took a number of supporting parts. My final role was that of Big Jewel in "Guys and Dolls." It was right after that show closed that we moved from Houston.!

!

During that period, Claire Harmon started a Children's Theater at CCC, in which Mollie was an active participant. She participated in these classes with other children of NASA employees ranging from technicians to astronauts. Anita and I attended social events associated with CCC. It was a great period in our lives. With few exceptions, the astronauts were regular guys with little or no pretenses what so ever.

Joan Aldren had a Masters Degree in drama from Columbia University and directed "Guys and Dolls." The cast party was held at their home while Buzz stayed locked in his study preparing for his upcoming mission to the moon. But I can also remember Buzz coming to the theater at the end of a rehearsal session with his two arms loaded with martinis and Apollo 11 classes. He'd walk down the aisle yelling, "Time for refreshments!�!

!

Mollie grew into a teenager in League City.

And she also began demonstrating her willingness to act out her roles, on or off stage.

She became an early environmentalist and acted it out by going out on 1-45 (connects Houston with Galveston) and picking up litter on the roadside, both sides.!

Lisa was born in 1968 while we lived in League City.

When Anita began having labor pains, we called our next door neighbor to watch the children and headed for the hospital in Houston. As early as that point in time, Lisa exhibited a characteristic that would remain hers for life... determination to get where she was going. By the time I pulled up in front of the hospital, Anita was trying to hold her back. I had to carry Anita in and deposit her on a gurney where the nurses took over. By the time I went down to the admissions office, signed her in, and returned to the maternity floor, Lisa had been delivered. It was if she jumped out, patted the doctor on the butt and said, "Get out of my way buddy, I have things to do.�!

!

League City will always be remembered as a delightful period of our life. There would be times in the future when I seriously wondered about the wisdom in leaving.!

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Seen and Not Heard!

I, like most people of my generation, was raised to understand that children were to be seen but not heard. And while that is hardly an acceptable concept in current thinking, it was an umbrella of philosophy under which I grew up. And, in my current opinion, it is a prescription for problems.!

!

I have come to realize that children are simply little people ... but none-the-less individuals subject to all normal emotions. We all have a right to be happy and we have a right to be angry. To be allowed to smile when happy but not to be allowed to express anger when upset is a conundrum that was never recognized in my early years. It can lead to ulcers.!

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Another aspect of the same issue had to do with social interaction. When adults came in contact, it seldom involved the children. As an example, my parents would come to visit and the interaction would predominantly remain among the adults. Children were there but often ignored. As I grew up into adulthood, I elected to do differently. !

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Whenever I visited one of my brothers, I made it a point to individually sit down with each of my nieces and nephews and chat. I wanted them to know I was interested in them and what was going on in their lives. I seldom failed to attend a function involving my nieces and nephews. That

approach has paid dividends for now in my senior years I feel the love and devotion from each of them that is very gratifying to me. It comes from earning their respect through my actions as opposed to the mandated "respect your elders" philosophy by which we were raised.!

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I remember serving on a thesis committee years ago. The graduate student had submitted his thesis for approval and one of the committee members kept finding small things that required resolution and then to be resubmitted. Finally, I asked my fellow committee member why he was making this young man jump through all these hoops. His answer was, "That's what happened to me, so why shouldn't I?"!

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Life is full of choices. We can choose to do what has always been done or we can elect to do what we think is right. The former is always the easy option; it takes no imagination and in some cases, no swimming against the common tide. But when you choose the right road and it results in success, it sure is rewarding and satisfying. It feels good.!

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Dad's Culinary Cuties!

Dad was one of a kind in the kitchen and as the years passed made more of an effort to expand his role in that arena. During those years that he and Mom were living apart,!such activity was more by necessity than by desire.!

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For instance, Dad has his own way of cleaning a frying pan after he had made his breakfast eggs. He simply poured some water in it, set it on the stove to heat, and then poured out the mess. His thesis was that all the oils and contaminants would boil free of the pan, rise to the water's surface and be easily discarded. A quick wipe with a towel and it was ready for next time.!

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I have always enjoyed eggs, fried or scrambled. I have always enjoyed pickled herring. But when Dad made me breakfast one morning that consisted of bits of pickled herring mixed into the scrambled eggs, neither one tasted anywhere as good as before. In fact, it was some time before I could face a pickled herring again.!

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Getting Lost (1950's)!

When my Bubby passed away and Dad started attending services daily (and on Shabbos) to say Kaddish, we closed the shop and did no business on Saturdays. But that was not the case prior to her passing. Typically, we were open for business on Saturdays until noon and then we closed.

Dad and I had a ritual that we performed every week. We would close the shop at noon on Saturday and drive to downtown Tampa. There, we headed for a "New York Style Deli" that was a favorite of ours where we would feast on a hot pastrami sandwich and root beer. After that, we would take in a movie before heading home.

When we first did this and arrived home, Mom asked where we had been all day. Dad, with a wink of his eye said, "Oh, we got lost for a few hours." From that time forward, our Saturday afternoons together was referred to as "getting lost." Mom would never again ask, she knew.!

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As stated elsewhere in these writings, Dad and I had three unique relationships. He was my father, he was my big brother, and he was my friend. While we were "lost" it was not the father-son relationship in action as much as two guys out to have a good time and to enjoy the time together.!

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My Job as Father!

How does one go about assessing the quality of a job done? Well, usually evaluating the merits of the product produced on the job can do that. If the job were parenthood, then it would follow that the children are the products. On that assumption I must score high marks because of the fine individuals our children have proven to be.!

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Not so fast, I wasn't the only parent and therefore, I cannot take full credit one way or the other. In fact, I cannot take very much of the credit at all. For it was Anita who was primarily responsible for raising the children and instilling within them the greatest majority of values they possess.!

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So let me share my true feelings about me as a father. It was a work in progress to put it mildly. I started out woefully unprepared for parenthood. As a young father, I had not yet got my own act together. Mollie was born between the time I got out of the service and the time when I started college. In fact Mollie was all of three or four years old when I began studies at the University of Houston. In earlier chapters I have discussed my maturation process and I was a far cry short of knowing right from wrong at the time I became a father.!

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The one thing that I can say for certain is that I have always loved each of my children from the day they were born to the present. I have always done what I thought at the time was right and in their respective best interests. The problem comes with the fact that at many points along the way, my assessment of what was right, was wrong. (Say that fast six times.)!

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I needed to learn that each child was a totally independent person with a completely unique set of characteristics. What makes one person start can make another person stop. Does that make one individual better than the other one because they respond to different stimuli? No. Of course not.

Speaking of starting and stopping, when I tried in my way to get Mollie to stop, that "way" simply encouraged her to go and go she did. She rebelled against me, intent on showing me she was her own person. And while I did not agree with her choices, I had to applaud her gutsy resolve. Mollie was singing "My Way" long before Frank Sinatra.!

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While I have always loved my children equally, I always seemed to have trouble treating them individually without appearing to show favoritism. As an example, in many ways Sherri was the closest to my personality than the others.

Before she was born, Anita and I had settled on the name Stanley, if she turned out to be a boy. She was obviously not a boy but she did become the Stanley. She was the one who would sneak under the car with me when I was changing the oil. She wasn't too prissy to get dirty and she could handle tools like neither of her sisters could then or now.

She had a sharp mind from the day she was born and could match me for stubbornness and determination. Unfortunately, like poles detract and we had our conflicts. I could so easily have established Sherri as my "favorite" but fought the temptation.!

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Then came Lisa. Of the three children, Lisa came closest to reminding me of Anita. As she grew older, the similarities continued to be apparent. Early in her relationship with her husband Jay, he assessed the situation and began calling her A.J. - Anita Junior -something I had noted many years before. Again, for these reasons I could easily have established Lisa as my "favorite" but could not for the same reason as the others. When Sherri and Lisa came home with a report card or a grade on a paper of 97%, I would say to each one, "What happened to the other 3%?" Sherri's reaction was that of resentment. In her eyes, I showed no appreciation for the 97% and got mad at me (rightfully so). Lisa, being a totally different individual took it as a challenge to come home next time with a 100%, a response that was equally correct. I wasn't wise enough to realize that they each needed different approaches to serve as a stimulation to excel.!

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I was also wrapped up in my work. Were I a little more mature and well adjusted, I would not have allowed the driving need within me to direct every bit of my attention to my career. Looking back on the past as I am able to do now, I see where I had so much to prove. I always felt like I had to catch up. Young men I had attended High

School with were successful doctors, lawyers, and other professionals. They were so far ahead of me.!

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In many ways, I caught them and then some. But, at what price? Did I participate, as I should have, in my children's upbringing? Did I carry my fair share of the load? Was I there at a dance recital or off on another trip? Did I sit patiently and communicate with my own children, as I would later learn to do with my nieces and nephews? The answer to these and similar questions is, no.!

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On the other hand, I cannot say I was a complete failure as a father. My children did see some things in me worth emulating. They never saw me drunk. They never heard I had been seeing another woman and they knew for sure how true I was to their mother. They never saw me quit before a job was done. I have always stood for what I believe in and I can willingly swim against the tide when my values run contrary to current thinking. So, how good a Dad have I been? All right, I guess. The only ones who can say for sure are my children and that is for them to say, not for me.!

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My Daughters Inter-Marry!

In the best of all worlds, all my girls would have married within our religion, and been as happy with their choices as they are today. Two people, from similar ethnic backgrounds, are more likely to have a common ground upon which to build a future than otherwise. However, this is not a perfect world and sometimes everything doesn't work out as one might hope and that is the time to make decisions.!

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When each of them made their respective choices, I was truly torn between my religious upbringing and my love for my girls. I could have reacted as is prescribed in our religion by shunning their marriage and saying mourner's Kaddish. All that would have been accomplished by such a stance was to lose a daughter, for their choices would not have changed on my account. So, I followed my heart rather than my head.

I supported their decision as best I could and proceeded to marry off my daughters at events shunned by my family. Neither my mother or father attended these weddings nor did most of my brothers.!

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In their eyes, I had perhaps failed as a Jewish father for not instilling within my children sufficient tradition and belief that they would not make such a choice. But, for me, the greater concern was how my daughters would perceive my actions, not anyone else. Would they see me as a loving and supportive father, or a strict disciplinarian with myopic vision? I elected to go with the former and hoped for the best.!

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When I taught them to ride a bicycle, there came a point that I needed to let go and watch them as they rode off on their own. I needed to stay close enough to pick them!

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up if they fell but far enough away to give them the sense that I had confidence in them to succeed. !

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In Sherri's first marriage, I was needed to pick her up when she fell. And I was pleased that I still had a relationship with her that made that exercise possible. Sherri then proved out another of Frank Sinatra's refrains, "Love is lovelier, the second time around.�!

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Between them, they have blessed Anita and I with five wonderful grandchildren who both of us adore. What more could we ask for?!

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Ken June 2006