Poker, Panty Raids and Anti-War Marches

Another snippet from "A Boy From Down East"

Poker, Panty Raids and Anti-War Marches

What in the world could these three activities have in common?  As I settled into the routine of dorm life at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill these became part of the unofficial schedule of events and entertainment.  Each of these events shared a common connector which helped build friendships and enlightened my college experience.

There were five of us who lived next door to each other on the first floor of Graham Dorm.  Since we did not partake of the “evil weed,” alcohol became the libation of choice.  Beer was our favorite but because we were each too poor to buy it on a regular basis, it was reserved for special occasions.  Our fallback drink became wine, Boones Farm Strawberry Hill to be specific.  Occasionally someone bought a bottle of Apple and we all scolded him for not paying attention.

Every Friday night was poker night for any of us who were staying on campus for the weekend.  We met in one of our rooms and set up a card table and played well into the night.  Since we were all card sharks and big time wheeler dealers we had to set a bet limit to 1¢.  If we didn’t, the game would be over after a couple of hands. 

One of the rules of play was the bottle rule.  We played until someone won enough hands to be $1.oo ahead.  At this point we took a break from cards and walked up to the little convenience store located on Franklin Street to buy a bottle of Boones Farm for 99¢.  We returned to the game and played until the next dollar was won.

This usually continued until one of three things occurred. First, everyone ran out of money. Since we were college students we had very little money and we were smart enough not to bring all we had to the table. This typically occurred around 1:00 AM.

The second game-ending occurrence was the closing of the little store.  This normally occurred at 1:00 AM.  Allowing for an additional hour to finish off that last bottle of Strawberry Hill we wrapped up the game by 2:00 AM.

The third reason to stop the game rarely occurred but it took a devastating toll on any plans you had for Saturday.  It occurred when the games were played too fast and $1.00 winners happened too often.  This lead to a condition where no one was able to walk to the little store and no one else cared.

Ah, Friday night poker was fun.

Another periodic occurrence that happened several times each semester was the infamous “panty raid.” Usually between 9:30 PM and 10:30 PM a loud clatter of noise arose out on the quad. Guys from the other male dorms on the north campus crossed our quad of 5 male dorms yelling that immortal call to arms, “Panty Raid,” as they marched to Cobb Hall which was an all-female dorm in 1972. By the time they reached Cobb there would be close to 1,000 people in the group. 

Whether it was Cobb Hall or one of the other female dorms of the north campus the event played out same. Forget any preconceived ideas or anything you might have seen in a movie about panty raids.

As the crowd began to arrive at the girl’s dorm several campus police vehicles would drive up and park across the street.  Usually three of the largest policemen walked over and one stood in front of each door.  The one at the main entrance would knock on the door and tell the house mother to lock all the doors and first floor windows.  The rest of the police sat on their vehicles and watched the show.

The crowd of guys gathered across the front of the building and began chanting “Panties, Panties.” I know it sounds corny, but no one said guys were smart when animal instincts took over.  The girls gathered at the windows of the upper floors looking out and laughing.  Every so often one would throw a pair of panties out the window and the crowd went crazy. It was like a shark feeding frenzy.  Looking back I realize this stage of the event was similar to chumming the water when you go fishing.

After the crowd was worked up by the occasional panty, the girls moved to the next and most exciting part of the show.  A girl would lean out of the window and dangle a pair of panties teasing the crowd and getting everyone to bunch up in a tight group.  When the timing was just right the girl with the panties suddenly pulled back into the window very quickly.  Before the group below her window could react, four arms came out with a trashcan full of cold water which was dumped onto the group of guys standing directly below.

This process was repeated several times until the crowd got bored and quietly dispersed. 
All you could hear as we were leaving was the cat calls and laughing from the dorm and the laughing from the campus police.

As for me and my friends, we only had to see the bait and switch occur once. We were smart enough to stay in the back and avoid the soaking which was sure to come.  We stood there and laughed while we shared our bottle of Strawberry Hill, which one of us always had stashed.

The final activity was the anti-war marches of that time.  In 1972 the Vietnam War was still going on and the anti-war sentiment was very strong on college campuses across the country. UNC was no exception.  By the spring of 1972 the lottery for the draft had occurred and with my draft number I knew I did not have to worry.  In many ways I was very apathetic about the war and to be honest viewed the opportunity to march as another fun thing to do.  And, as I look back most in the crowd felt the same way.

There were two big opportunities I had to participate in anti-war demonstrations that spring.  The first was a big demonstration to be held in Washington, DC.  The activists had put up flyers around campus about the Washington march indicating that UNC organizers were chartering buses to take students to DC to participate.  For $50.oo you got a bus ride and chance to see the nation’s capital, which I had never done.  This was a great opportunity.

I went back to the dorm, called Dad and asked if he could put $50.oo into my account.  I explained I had an opportunity to take a bus excursion to Washington DC and see the sights.  He thought for that price this sounded like a great opportunity to learn about the nation’s capital.  He told me he would get the money together and let me know when it was in my account.

I not sure how but he found out this was a trip to Washington to demonstrate against the war.  When he called me back he didn’t need to use the phone because he was yelling so loud I could have heard him all the way from Aurora.  He proceeded to let me know that if I went on that trip he would pull me out of school so fast I would not know what hit me.  Needless to say I did not get the money nor did I get to go to Washington.

Later, I did participate in a large demonstration held on the campus.  On that particular day my friends and I were out sunning in the quad when we heard and saw a large crowd of people marching by on Raleigh Street. We decided this looked like fun and followed the group, after we grabbed a couple of bottles of Strawberry Hill.  We marched up Raleigh Street, then down Franklin Street and back south on Columbia St. During the entire trip and later as we assembled on the quad in front of South Building there was a constant chant of “1, 2, 3, 4 we don’t want your F---ing War.” 

After the march and while everyone was standing in front of South Building one speaker after another got up in front of the crowd and ranted about the war.  The true activists stood in front and cheered them on. 

To the rest of us it was just another party.  It wasn't long before this cloud of “funny” smelling smoke began to fill the air and the party began.  As for me and my friends out came the Boones Farm and we joined in.

As you have probably figured out Boones Farm played an integral part in making each of these events a memorable college experience.

 
This too was part of growing up in Aurora NC.

I Lost a Friend Today

I Lost a Friend Today

 

I found out today one of my oldest friends died. Henry (Hank) B. Bland was born on July 25, 1953 and died on November 27, 2012 after battling cancer and several other illnesses throughout his life.

Hank was possibly my oldest friend. I cannot remember a time we were not friends growing up in Edward, NC. In some of the pictures I have of us together we were only 3 years old.

Most of our early years were spent living across the street from each other and we spent many hours at the others home. The Bland home in Edward was one of the first places I where I was allowed to go alone. We spent most days playing together and exploring our world.

We had our own little gang which included Hank, Billy, Al and I. Edward was a very small town and we were it. We played together, went to church together, and rode the bus to school together. We had lots of adventures together.

One of those adventures occurred after church one night. As I said Edward is a very small town with only a couple of streets. We lived on the main street through town and the church was on the back street. Between our house and the church was a small wooded area with a path through it maybe a 100 yards long. I remember going to church with my friends, Al, Hank and Billy and one of them suggesting that we walk home through the path in the woods. It was like a badge of courage we were each trying to earn and this would be the first time we attempted it. I am not sure about the other guys but that 100 yard walk was on the longest walks I have ever taken. That should have been a short distance, but it seemed to go on forever. The woods were darker than on any moonless night. It was quite, not even the wind was blowing. After walking for what seemed like hours without saying a word between us, we finally made it to the other end near Al’s house. It was like the moon come out and the stars were shinning and we started laughing and teasing one another. From that night on we always took the short cut through the woods, I guess we earned our badge.

At first my friends and I only played at each other’s houses, but as we got older and braver we ventured out into the area. Behind Hank’s house was an old abandoned barn. This soon became our clubhouse and our base of operations from which we explored deeper and deeper into the woods.  Finally around age 1o or 11 we began exploring the creek and for the next couple of years Hank and I had many great adventures along the banks of Durham Creek.

Hank and I started school together in the fall of 1959 at Aurora High School and for the next 12 years we went to the same school building. I remember how it was so great riding the school bus with the big kids and we felt grown up. We were lucky that there were a couple of “High School” girls who kept an eye on us. Thanks Miriam and Deanna, Hank’s sister.

 

One Christmas day Hank’s sister Deanna took us to the movies in Washington at the Turnage Theater. The movie Swiss Family Robinson had just come out and we got to see it that first week.

Hank was part of the group that went with me to be on the Romper Room TV show in Greenville, NC on WNCT. We both worked hard back then to be good Do Bees.

After high school I got married and moved to Florida and only saw Hank a few times. He came to Florida for a visit once and we talked for a long while about old times. On several occasions I saw Hank when I went back to North Carolina for a visit, but these times became rarer and rarer.

Even though we had grown apart, separated by time and distance, it is hard to lose an old friend of almost 60 years. I will miss Hank and the world has changed now that he is gone. I know he suffered many illnesses in his adult life but I also can rest assured he is resting peacefully now in the arms of God.

A joy I have today thinking about Hank is all the great times and memories we had together. He was and still is a great friend.

 

This too is part of growing up in Aurora, NC.

 

Not Politically Correct

Not Politically Correct

The other day I had to prepare a short talk to give at a meeting. It wasn't that difficult to prepare because it was a subject familiar to me.  But the length and time is always a concern.

Many moons ago when I was taking Agriculture 1 as a freshman at Aurora High School in Aurora NC we had a short chapter on public speaking. Our teacher, Finnly Lewis, gave this simple rule which has stuck with me and guided me in every speech I have made:

"A speech should be like a woman's dress, long enough to cover the subject, but short enough to keep the interest."

Get Your Copy Today at: http://www.amazon.com/I-Have-Give-Speech-ebook/dp/B0068PH6IK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1322485409&sr=8-1

Granddaddy -An Excerpt From "A Boy From Down East" by Larry B. Gray

Granddaddy

An Excerpt From My Next Book, A Boy From Down East

(Due Out Whenever I Finish It) 

I had a special relationship with my grandparents growing up. I spent many hours with them having fun, learning and working on the farm.  Much of the person I am today comes from their teachings and example.  I was blessed to have great parents and grandparents who helped guide me to adulthood.

I idolized my granddaddy and spent as much time with him as I could.  We even shared the same birthday, April 24^th. He was born on April 24, 1903 and I was born on April 24, 1953, fifty years apart.  He was born in Bonnerton, N. C.  to Michael Meager Gray and Sallie Stilley Gray and lived his whole life in Bonnerton.

On the day I was born he was transplanting tobacco.  Grandmomma always told me that on the day I was born she told Granddaddy she wanted to go to Washington to the hospital to be there for the birth. He responded, “I don’t have time for all this foolishness; there is work to be done.”  Yes, this was the beginning of that special bond.

He was always working around the farm and house, except on Sunday.  I cannot remember him ever sitting still during the work day.  In the evenings, if he didn’t have to check his tobacco barns, he would sit in the living room and read the paper and it was off to bed early because sunrise didn’t wait for anyone. 

He always wore a hat when he left the house whether a clean dress hat to church or an old worn farm hat.  He smoked a pipe and I can still remember his sweet smell of aftershave and pipe tobacco. He kept a cigar box of Tampa Nugget or Hav-A-Tampa cigars in his truck and would smoke them while out in the fields.

When riding around checking on the farm he offered rides to people from the community who were walking and take them to the store or home.  I have seen him go out of his way to drive someone home who did not have transportation. I can remember him telling me “If you want people to help you then you have to be willing to help them.”

It was not until the late 1960s that my grandparents got an indoor bathroom in their house.  I remember Granddaddy bathing at the sink on the back porch and they did not have hot water unless it was heated on the stove.  During the very coldest part of the winter he bathed at the kitchen sink.  He had an old safety razor and powder to make his shaving cream.  Grandmomma made sure we all bathed every night when I was there and at times it was cold.

I can only remember my granddaddy losing his temper twice in my life.  The first time was with me when I punched my brother Mark.  He took me out back of the house and put a belt to my backside.  That was the only time I can ever remember him punishing me and I am glad of that.

The other time I saw him lose his temper was at the cucumber grader at Porters Creek.  After picking cucumbers all day we would load the truck and go to the packing shed to sell them each night.  On this particular night it was late and we were in a long line of trucks waiting for our turn to unload at the grader. I remember I was sitting on top of sacks of cucumbers in the back of the truck watching when another man tried to drive and cut Granddaddy off.  He came out of the truck yelling things I had never heard come out of his mouth and he had a great big old fashion pipe wrench in his hand.  The other men in the area came running over and grabbed him before he reached the guy. They all made the other man go to the back of the line and I can remember one old man saying as he walked by “He should have known not to cut in front of Mr. Willie like that.”

My dad and Granddaddy were active members of the Richland Township Ruritan Club when I was growing up.  I remember each year they had a Father and Son banquet and Granddaddy, Dad, my brother Mark and I always went. It was held in the cafeteria at school and I often wondered how they got such good food out of that kitchen after what we had during the school day.

The other Ruritan event that I attended each year was the annual fish fry at Jarvis Landing.  This was held in the summer and was a lot of fun since many of my friends were there and we would go swimming in the river and play. The fish, slaw and hushpuppies were good also.

When I was in the 7^th or 8^th grade I remember getting out of school one afternoon and walking up to the pool hall.  When I entered I saw Granddaddy sitting with a group of other men talking and drinking beer. I had never seen Granddaddy with a beer and I remember thinking, “cool,  I bet Grandmomma doesn’t know where you are.”  But, then there was that bottle of whiskey I found in the back of her closet.  When I asked her what it was,  she said cough medicine.

Granddaddy had a sure fire cure for anything that bit you.  If you got stung by a bee or wasp you soon learned to keep it to yourself.  If he found out he would grab you and spit chewing tobacco juice on it.  But now that I think about it, it did take the sting out of the bite.

Another memory I have of my granddaddy is that at night when he was asleep he could snore up a storm.  He would make the windows rattle.  I guess that explained why he and Grandmomma slept in separate rooms.

After I got married and move to Florida Granddaddy would always ask me, each time I went home, why I moved so far away.  I would always answer him, “I looked on a map and saw how far south tobacco grew and I moved 100 miles further south.”  He would always laugh at this but I knew the truth.  He felt the same pains of missing each other that I did.  The funny thing about this little joke we shared is I have spent my entire working career in agri-business.

Granddaddy was and will always be one of my role models and mentors. Some of my earliest memories of life are of the times I spent with him and I have many great memories of us together.

Be Still and Know That I am God

I my youth I often sat on the banks of Durham Creek at the Bonnerton, NC bridge and thought about life. During times of soul searching or dealing with teenage pressures I found this little piece of heaven on earth the most inspiring place to ponder life and its mysteries. It was one of those special places where I felt God’s presence and peace.

I remember sitting on the creek bank and daydreaming for what seemed like hours. The cool breeze and the soft lapping of the waves brought a calming peace and a clearing mind to any situation.

Today is one of those days when I need to sit on the bank of the creek and feel God’s love and peace. Thanks to a picture I found on the computer (by Joe Bud Jones), I can now sit and stare at this little piece of heaven. No it is not the same but,  God’s word is remains true: “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10a.)

A Blogging Milestone

My Blog "A Boy From Down East - Growing Up In Aurora NC" just past 30,000 pageviews yesterday. The most popular article was about living in the segregated south with over 6,614pageviews. Who would have every believed people would read about a snot-nosed kid from tobacco road.

Check it out at:   Growing Up In Aurora NC - Segregation