My
wife and I traveled to Pennsylvania for Christmas in the winter of
2015. It was the first time I’d been home in many years, and it was
Ozge’s first time in America. We attended the Christmas party at my
grandfather’s house, an annual tradition that goes way back.
My
grandfather, Bill Crocker, was in his early 80s by then. The massive
frame (he stood over six feet and weighed in the neighborhood of
three hundred pounds) that had dominated many a room for so long,
that could engulf you in a bear hug – was now frail, reduced, and
he spent much of the evening in his favorite chair. When he got up
you could tell he was embarrassed to have to use a walker. Still, it
was great to see him again, many fond memories came flooding back –
he still had his winning smile – and I was glad he got to meet my
new bride, who he of course immediately embraced and welcomed into
the family.
Before
we left that evening, he pulled me aside and all but thrust a short
stack of papers into my hands.
“I
thought maybe you might like to know something more about my life,”
he said, in almost a shy way. “Maybe you could do something with it
someday.”
I
folded the papers, put them in my pocket, as we were preoccupied with
saying our farewells to everyone. By the time we got back to
Istanbul, I’d forgotten all about them. Until the other day, a
bored lockdown Saturday, I came across the papers, still folded, at
the bottom of a dresser drawer.
There
were about nine pages, typed in all caps, dated March 3, 2014.
“This
is not a bragging thing,” read the cover page. “But a written
memory of events that we all enjoyed together, either as a family, or
as man and wife … I hope it brings a little joy to you, and please
don’t feel bad about me as I have squeezed in about all I could do
and hope you see it like I do.”
Reading
this intro, I tried to summon my grandpa’s booming, sunny voice (a
voice that was as big and shiny as the many sedans he owned and
loved), to conjure the larger-than-life figure I fondly remembered.
Some of the things were stories I remember him telling (sometimes
over and over) when we were kids, others were striking and new, and
still others were rather remarkable, things I’d never known before.
Read closer, between the lines, it was a poignant snapshot of mid- to
late-20th Century American life.
###
Where
to begin? How do you compress 80-plus years into a single story?
Well,
for starters, let’s drop this “grandfather” stuff. He was never
“grandfather” or “grandpa” to us. He was Pap. If I know Pap
the way I hope I do, he would want to start by talking about family.
His marriage of more than 60 years to my grandmother Marilyn
(“Toots,” as he called her, “Nan” to the rest of us), their
six children and innumerable grandchildren and great-grandchildren
(including our son Leo, who he sadly never met). These no doubt were
his deepest pride, the true legacy in his eyes.
But
having said that, the rest of his story is what I found to be the
most interesting and revealing. A child of the Great Depression just
outside the steel town of Pittsburgh, Pap was a fat kid, and I
remember Nan telling us that the kids used to pick on him, the way
kids do at that age. But he was always ambitious and, like most of
his generation, introduced to work at a tender age.
He
got his first job, delivering newspapers, when he was ten years old,
and at the age of twelve got a job as a stock boy at Byers’ grocery
store (which is probably long gone) and later got a second job on
Sundays at Krafick’s Garage, where most likely his lifelong love
affair with cars began.
He
and Nan married in 1953, and their first child, a daughter (my
step-mom Jan) was born a year later, with more kids to follow in the
next few years. By 1960, still in his twenties, grandpa opened a Gulf
station, which he owned and operated for the next decade, before
eventually selling it to my uncle Russ. Later on he worked for
various companies in mostly sales, before retiring at the age of 80.
All in all, seventy years of work! At the same time, he worked as a
volunteer fireman, and he notes that they converted a 1950 black
Hearse into the area’s first ambulance, which eventually serviced
five different communities.
Pap’s
passion for cars was evident in that he devotes a whole page of his
memoir to “New and Memorable Cars.” As a kid, I remember Pap
enlisting my brother and I to wash and “shammy” his latest and
greatest acquisitions, which lounged sportively in the driveway of
their house in Washington Township, a Pittsburgh suburb. His first
car apparently was a 1950 red Plymouth convertible, which he traded
in for his first new car a 1953 Plymouth sedan. Among the many others
over the years, his “dream car” seems to have been a blue Mercury
sedan, which he bought in 1987.
Racing
was a hobby for a while. He and a friend Les Bonner bought a 1936
Chevrolet coupe, braced it and took out the extra seat and
upholstery, painted it blue and white and numbered it ½.
“We
raced this couple for a couple years til the gas tank fell off on our
only close victory,” he lamented.
###
Pap
loved to travel, and another whole page devoted to vacations and
trips reads like a voyage through American holiday dreams, the names
almost mundane in their familiar mix of the folksy and exotic:
Niagara Falls, Disneyworld (10+ times!), Myrtle Beach, Acapulco, the
Bahamas, Bermuda, New York City, Mount Rushmore, the Indy 500,
Daytona, summers on the Jersey Shore, a drive to Kennebunkport, the
obligatory trip to D.C. where “we visited as many museums and sites
as we could. Had motel in D.C. with a swimming pool on the roof.”
He
was an avid sports fan, especially of our beloved Steelers. He and
Nan were season ticket holders, and he attended games at Forbes Field
(“I got to see “Bullet” Bob Dudley, probably the fastest runner
I have ever seen.”) and later, Three Rivers’ stadium (“I got to
see the Immaculate Reception by Franco Harris, who I later met at
Flavio’s.” He also got to meet “Mean” Joe Greene, Rocky
Bleier, Jack Ham and Jack Lambert.
Just
to interrupt Pap for a minute, I have to share what he told me about
meeting the legendary Steelers’ linebacker, Count Dracula in
Cleats.
“We
shook hands,” Pap said. “Jack – Bill Crocker. Nice to meet
you.”
“Nice
to meet you, Bill,” Lambert replied. “By the way, I should let
you know that I just pissed all over my hand in the men’s room a
minute ago.”
“That’s
OK, Jack,” Pap said. “Don’t worry about it.” And he proceeded
to wipe his own hands on Lambert’s brand new sweater.
He
also met “The Chief,” Steelers founder Art Rooney while getting
his luggage in L.A. “The Chief was smoking a cigar.” Also in L.A.
(possibly on the same trip, it’s not clear) he met Joe Montana on
an elevator. Joe’s leg was in a cast because it had just been
broken. Another year, in Pasadena, he had a drink with Ben Davidson
and Fred Biletnikoff.
For
Super Bowl III in New Orleans, the year Broadway Joe Namath led the
Jets to an iconic win over the Colts, Pap had this memory: “Spent
two-three hours in New Orleans in barber chairs near the bar with
(Coach) Weeb Eubank of the New York Jets. I walked into the NFL
banquet and was not asked to leave.”
Pap
notes with pride of having attended 23 Super Bowls (including all
four of the Steelers’ wins in the ‘70s), Incidentally, his
second favorite team was the 1960s Green Bay Packers because wide
receiver Bob Long was a neighbor who used to deliver the paper to Pap
when he was a boy. These almost annual trips to the Super Bowl meant
that he and Nan were January regulars in Miami, New Orleans,
Pasadena, Tampa Bay and San Diego.
I
remember one time, when the Super Bowl was scheduled to be held in
Pontiac, Michigan, asking Pap if he was going to the Super Bowl that
year. He snorted dismissively, waving his beefy arms to illustrate
his contempt.
“Look,
Jim,” he said. “Going to the Super Bowl for me is like a
vacation. Who the hell wants to spend their vacation in Michigan in
January? We got all the snow and cold we want here in Pittsburgh!”
He
also loved baseball, wrestling and boxing. Along with attending seven
world heavyweight title fights, he was in the training room in Miami
where Muhammad Ali was getting ready for a fight. He met trainer
Angelo Dundee.
“Ali
came to our lunch table and did magic tricks,” he added.
###
Most
of all, Pap loved his cards. Boy, did he. I know that back home he
played almost daily at a diner down the road from their house. He and
Nan were in Vegas so many times over the years (they always went to
Vegas right after the Super Bowl, or anytime they were out West) that
he was listed (as he proudly notes) at the hotels and casinos as “a
high roller.” Once they were sitting so close to the show that the
tigers of the Siegfried and Roy show went right past their table.
One
of his fondest Vegas memories was a tale that he often told us when
we were kids. This had to be sometime in the 1970s, I’m guessing.
It was the time he had drinks with Evel Knievel.
There
are two versions of this story, the one I recall and the one in Pap’s
papers.
Here
is the one in his papers:
“While
in Vegas at about 4 in the morning, I was taking a rest at the bar
(between poker or shooting craps, presumably) and had a couple drinks
with Evel Knievel, and his chauffeur asked me to help Evel to get to
his car. I did. After that at about 5 am I sat at a table and ordered
a Bloody Mary, and when it was served I reached for the drink and
knocked it over towards the dealer and juice went all over his chips.
So I went to another table.”
The
version he told us as kids was a bit saucier.
“So
I was in Vegas one time playing cards, and guess who shows up at the
table?”
“Who?”
we asked.
“Evel
Knievel! Yeah, ol’ Evel had had a few. We all had. So Evel sits
down at the table with us for awhile and we kept playing cards, and
next thing you know, Evel passes out. Right there at the table!”
“Really?”
we asked. “What did you do, Pap?”
He
shrugged. “We picked him up, handed him to his driver, who took him
to his car, and the rest of us sat back down and kept playing cards.”
He
always chuckled when he finished the story.
“Yep,
ol’ Evel Knievel. We put his ass to sleep and kept on playing
cards.”
As
an aside, I wish I could have talked with Pap more about his days and
nights in Vegas. There were probably more stories like that, enough
perhaps to even write a book. But I suppose we have enough of those
Vegas hey-day stories in the books.
###
There
is more, believe it or not. I have scarcely mentioned anything about
Pap’s volunteerism, which along with firefighting also extended to
coaching baseball, Boy Scouts and the Special Olympics (my uncle
Brian played on the soccer team for the Special Olympics, where his
team lead the U.S. to a world championship, defeating a team from
Peru – wow, I never knew that!). Pap also did some work with
Habitat for Humanity (another surprise), helping raise money and
building houses for the disadvantaged.
“I
also helped a needy lady by putting a new water heater in her mobile
home,” he recalls. “Put a new auto transmission in her car, took
her to and from work when needed. It was a sad day when she passed.”
Oh,
Pap might also like me to mention that one time, while in Alaska, a
guy named Lud Larson flew him to the Yukon Territory. “I got to
hold the steering wheel of the plane by myself – Wow!”
###
“The
most memorable person I ever met, other than my own family, was John
Heinz (former U.S. Senator and son of H.J. “Jack” Heinz II, of
the famous Pittsburgh-based company), who I got to talk to as
president of the Local Gas Dealers’ Association during the (early
1970s (?)) gas shortage.” Heinz was killed in a plane crash in
1977.
“If
he hadn’t died I am sure he would have been the next president of
the U.S. and a good one.”
###
There’s
more, believe it or not. But I run the risk of making this “a
bragging thing,” which Pap wished to avoid when he sat down and
typed these rememberings that March day seven years ago.
I’m
thinking now again about our last meeting, Christmas Eve 2015, and
how he looked so thin, pale and run down, a shell of the gargantuan
man he had always been. I remember relatives telling me that Pap had
been fine, his usual self, until a failed eye surgery. “After that,
he just got old all,” an uncle confided, shaking his head ruefully.
Less
than a year after that last Christmas, Pap died in the hospital,
surrounded by family and friends. His last words, which he wrote with
a trembling hand in a shaky scrawl, were: “My family is the best.”
###
And
I’m thinking now again of Pap into my hand pressing these papers,
which are sitting here beside me on the sofa as I write this, while
outside a dreary cold rain and heavy grey skies seem to reinforce the
seemingly endless confinement and limitations that have been imposed
upon our lives this past year by the pandemic. I think about his
life, how active he always was, full of that boundless energy and
optimism, love of his family, belief his country and in the future.
The tireless drive to see and do and experiencer and serve and be
involved with as many things as possible, qualities that seem almost
quaint and in short supply nowadays. I think about all the things he
did, the places he saw, the many, many people he met, all the things
I described above, and how he managed to do that with six kids –
Hell, it’s hard for Ozge and I have our hands full with just one.
But
then again he had his “Toots,” who managed the household most of
the time for the sixty-plus years of their marriage, and who was
there to take care of him when age, his weight and mileage began to
take their toll.
We
get tired (boy!) of the same things day after day, not being able to
go and do the things we love, not being able to take Leo to places we
want him to see, like Prague, like California and of course,
Pittsburgh, where Nan still resides. My wife Ozge’s grandmother
died recently. She was 90, and healthy until one day she fell down
and fractured her leg. In the hospital she contracted the
coronavirus, and languished in the hospital for weeks, and no one was
allowed to visit her. Eventually, she beat the virus, only to die in
her sleep shortly after being taken home. We find some solace in the
fact that at least she died in her own bed.
Occasionally
we despair of things ever getting back to how they were before. I did
not plan to dwell on the pandemic when I sat down to write this, but
then again, I didn’t get up today expecting to find my
grandfather’s papers either. Perhaps the spirit of Pap is out
there, beyond those charcoal-colored skies, some place way beyond the
sky, beyond the pandemic and beyond despair and where things begin
and end. Or he is right here in his papers. Perhaps he is telling
me, as he always used to tell us when we were young:
“You’ll
never be poor (or “po’” as he said it) if you’re good
lookin’!”
You’ll
never be po’ if you’re good lookin’. Well, Pap was right about
a lot of things. I would only say that what Pap might have also added
is, things are never so bad if you have family. One good thing about
this past year is that I have been able to spend a lot of time with
our son, watching him grow each day. And on days like today, I’ve
had the time to sit with my grandfather’s pages at last, and to see
the life he lived, the way he wanted it to be remembered. Maybe
that’s why he gave me these pages. Perhaps he wanted me to see that
here was much more to his life than just being a grandad. I don’t
know. But I’m glad that, if nothing else, this dreary Saturday at
home has not been entirely wasted, that I was able to spend some time
with Pap, and to share his story. Only wish I’d written it sooner.
Hope that was what you wanted, Pap.
###
James
Tressler, a former Lost Coast resident, is a writer and teacher.
Since COVID hit Humboldt nearly a year ago, local governments and homeless advocacy groups have had to ramp up their efforts to address the already complicated issue of homelessness and figure out how to continue to provide services in a safe way. Among those groups is local nonprofit Affordable Homeless Housing Alternatives (AHHA), which aims to find creative solutions to keep the unhoused safe, warm and dry.
On this week’s episode of LoCO’s podcast Humboldt Holding Up, AHHA Co-founder and President Nezzie Wade discusses a bit about the nonprofit’s mission, how it got started and how it has been working through the pandemic. Topics touched upon with Wade include:
On Saturday February 6, 2021, at approximately
9:25am, The Arcata Police Department responded to the 2700 block of Greenbriar
Lane for the report of a residential structure fire. Upon their arrival, officers
located a male in the yard throwing items onto the burning residence. He was behaving
aggressively as he threw various items at the officers and refused to comply
with their orders to back away from the burning structure to allow arriving Arcata
Fire District personnel to extinguish the fire.
22-year-old Arcata resident Jesse Esteban
Banuelos was taken into custody and was booked and lodged into the Humboldt
County Correctional Facility on the suspicion of Arson of an inhabited
structure. He was determined to be a guest at the residence. No fatalities or
injuries were discovered or reported. The residence sustained extensive fire
damage.
This incident remains under investigation by
the Arcata Police Department and investigators with the Arcata Fire Protection District.
Anyone with information is encouraged to contact the Arcata Police Department’s
Investigations Division
Photos by Stephanie McGeary, unless otherwise noted
Multiple agencies are still on scene near California Street in Arcata, after firefighters extinguished a blaze that broke out at a residence on Green Briar Lane at about 9:25 a.m.
Arcata Police Detective Sgt. Chris Ortega tells the Outpost that the cause of the fire appears to be arson, and that one man was arrested on scene. There was extensive damage to the residence and responders are still working to determine if there were any injuries.
“At this point we have done a preliminary search for injuries and have found none and there is a secondary search taking place currently,” Ortego told the Outpost at about 11:55 a.m. today. “Nobody was located who was injured or deceased. There are other residents we are working to account for currently.”
Humboldt Bay Fire, Arcata Fire, the Arcata Police Department, Humboldt State University Police, CHP and American Red Cross were on scene late this morning and the Green Briar Lane is currently closed to traffic.
The Outpost will update with more information when it becomes available.
On Friday February 5th, 2021, special agents with the Humboldt County Drug Task Force (HCDTF) served a search warrant on a residence in the 300 block of Fernbridge Dr. in Fernbridge. Agents performed knock and notice and then had to force entry into the residence. As agents entered the house they located the female resident, Leslie Ann Crowley, AKA: Leslie Baum, (43 years old), flushing evidence down the toilet. Crowley was successful in flushing items before agents were able to detain her. The male resident, Leonard Jumping Eagle Rodriguez (40 years old), arrived on scene during the search warrant and was detained.
Rodriguez
Agents conducted a search of the residence and located the following evidence. There were two loaded semi-auto handguns in a small safe. One of the guns had been reported stolen to the Eureka Police Department in August of 2015 during the burglary of Pacific Outfitters.
Agents located heroin, methamphetamine, and MDMA inside the house as well as a digital scale and packaging. Agents also located a blender, lactose, and evidence that a heroin cutting operation was taking place inside the residence. Agents believe Crowley was able to flush a large quantity of heroin based off the other evidence located. Agents seized approx. $6,500 in US currency inside the house pending an asset forfeiture investigation.
Crowley and Rodriguez were transported to the Humboldt County Jail where they were booked for the following charges:
Crowley
• H&S 11351Possession of controlled substances for sale
• H&S 11370.1Possession of controlled substances while armed
• H&S 11366.5Maintaining or operating a drug house
Rodriguez was also charged for the following:
• PC 29800(a)(1) Felon in possession of a firearm
Anyone with information related to this investigation or other narcotics related crimes are encouraged to call the Humboldt County Drug Task Force at 707-267-9976.
Congressman
Jared Huffman has spent his entire federal legislative career on an
idea: a holistic approach to address the needs of federal lands
within his congressional district, combining new Wilderness and Wild
and Scenic River designations with prescriptions for active forest
restoration and more. After six years of drafting and stakeholder
engagement, Congressman Huffman released his bill in 2018. Of course,
with Trump and a McConnell-led Senate, the bill never made it past
the floor of the House. But, as the old saying goes, elections have
consequences. The 2021 General Election and the Georgia Senate runoff
have fundamentally improved the odds that Rep. Huffman’s bill will
pass this
year.
Among other things, Rep. Huffman’s former Senate co-sponsor, is now
our Vice-President.
Ryan
Henson of the California Wilderness Coalition joins Gang Green to
talk about the details of the bill, some of his favorite new
wilderness areas, and breaks down the prospects of the bill’s passage
in the 177th Congress.
To submit a locally-filmed (or produced) video, upload it to YouTube and email the link to News@LostCoastOutpost.com with your name, a brief description of your work and “TRL” in the subject line. Please do not submit videos containing any form of violence, racism, illegal activity, pornographic material, bullying or harassment. Also, no advertisements or duplicated submissions please.
“Open the Adoré me Amoré” - Cat & Carson:
Linda Faye Carson returns to TRL to share this lovely duet.
“And She Did It” - Bayside Music Collective:
A spontaneously improvised parking lot performance “brought to life in homes and backyards around Humboldt Bay.” The BMC describes itself as a “constantly evolving group of Humboldt musicians that play together just for the love of it.”
“Get Hogged” - Henderson Centaur:
A head bangin’ tune from “Eureka’s premiere friendly neighborhood fantasy rock ‘n’ roll band.”
“Neighborhood Bored Shop” - Sue and the Namies:
A live performance filmed in Old Town Eureka. The band says it’s based out of a dumpster at the Eureka Mall and that it loves to incorporate theatrical performances into live shows. “[The performances can range from high intensity to chill vibes,” the bans says. “We call our genre of music, ‘no wave surf’ and are trying to have a beach party everywhere.
