Our shiny blue and gold bus was brought around to the parking lot off the gym exit door. Students were starting to gather with their luggage when I walked up. It was a mixture of students as the interscholastic meet encompassed a wide variety of disciplines and activities. I was the odd member, hitching a ride. After the luggage was stored everyone filed onboard. I sought a seat next one of my friends, Chuck Klunder. It was going to be a long ride and I wanted someone to talk to about what I was planning to do. I hadn’t told my school mates about the offer to go to EWCE with a scholarship. I wanted it to be finalized before the word spread. I knew when I left the bus in Missoula and boarded the train there would be questions raised.
Chuck
and I visited all the way to Missoula about a wide variety of things, but
mainly, “what happens after high school”.
Chuck wasn’t sure what he would be doing, but was thinking of going into
the service and take advantage of their training or college package when he
finished his service. It looked like the draft board might be calling young
people to join the Korean maneuver. He
would rather enlist in the branch of the service he chose than be stuck in the
infantry. The Air force always appealed
to him.
The
bus swung into the parking lot of the Missoula railroad depot. Coach Racicot, one of the chaperones for travel
to the Missoula meet, helped me with my suitcase and with a few final instructions;
he shook my hand and wished me luck. I thanked him and headed for the depot
door, feeling the questioning eyes from those on the bus. It was evening and I had a short wait for my
train; just enough time to find something to eat. The food service in the terminal looked
appetizing, so I grabbed a prepackaged sandwich and a can of pop. On second thought I added a cookie. After paying I found an empty, fairly clean
booth and sat down to enjoy my dinner.
As I sat sipping on the soda, I watched the others in the terminal to
sense if they were getting ready to board the train. Finally I found the ticket window and asked
the fellow behind the desk when the train to Spokane came in? He checked his schedule and replied it would
be there in about fifteen minuets.
Leaving
Missoula after dark made it hard to see the landscape, so I settled down for
some sleep. I enjoyed a train ride. The sound of the wheels on the rails was
enough to put me to sleep. When we came
back from visiting Dad we rode the train from Seattle to Miles City. That was a long trip, so even though we left
Seattle at night, it was a full day before we arrived at Miles City, giving us
plenty of time to view the landscape.
This train was scheduled to get into Cheney early in the morning with
plenty of daylight. As I drew closer to
the meeting with Coach Red Reese, my apprehensions grew. I tried to assure myself it would turn out
fine and as the wheels played their rhyme I fell asleep.
The sun was shining brightly as the train pulled up to
a little depot. I checked to be sure; yes, it said Cheney. Scrambling down from the car, I grabbed my
bag and stepped away from the train as it moved forward. No other passengers got off. From the look of things this wasn’t a busy
destination. The depot was on the edge
of the small town of Cheney which spread across the highway and up the
hill. A main street ran up the hill with
comfortable looking homes on each side.
There were large shade trees along the street making it look inviting. I
noticed an unfamiliar sickening sweet smell from the moment I stepped from the train. It made me want to check my
deodorant. I assumed it
must be some plant, tree or bush that was in bloom.
Coach, William B. (Red) Reese
I
had Coach Reese’s address and he was expecting me, so I trudged up the hill to
his door. When he answered I could see why
they called hem “Red”. He
was a husky man with a rosy, freckled face and a pleasant grin. I would guess he might be in his
fifties. His wife invited me to have
breakfast and pointed me toward the bath room to freshen up. Their children had already eaten and were
going to school. The boy, with hair as
red as his dad’s, kept eyeing me, obviously surprised by my height. Red set with me at the table and kept asking
a steady stream of questions as I ate hot cakes and bacon his wife served me.
Red
drove me to the campus and around various buildings to give me an orientation
to the facilities. He then dropped me
off at Sutton hall to secure a room that I would use while on campus. He asked me to be at the gym for a workout as
soon as that detail was finished.
Sutton Hall was the dorm where the athletes stayed. I checked in at the down stairs office where the dorm manager had been alerted that I wanted a room for a couple days. He found a room for me on the second floor.
While
putting things away I continued to analyze what I had seen of the campus with
Coach Reese. Coach Racicot had told me
he had a temper, so be cautious around him until you know him. It was a beautiful campus with large trees
and various types of shrubs. It was so
different and would take some getting use to. I didn’t want to be in trouble
with the coach, so I hustled quickly to the gym.
*Taken from "Which Road Should I Follow?, Volume 1, Growing up in the country", an autobiography by Edwin K. Hill.
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