The Rock Island Rocket

Ethan,

One thing I love about living in Chico is hearing train whistles far off in the distance. As the train gets closer to town the whistles get louder. Then the crossing barriers go down, and the train roars through at speeds up to seventy miles an hour as the huge engine shakes the ground beneath its steel rails. Trains have always fascinated me.

My mom and dad gave me and my brother, Hugh, an electric train set for Christmas one year. We were at Grammy Spickler's farm, of course. I couldn't wait to get home so I could show it to my best friend Bill. Bill had a train set in his bedroom. His dad made a fold-down table for his train set. It had tunnels and bridges and all kinds of farm animals to put on his train. I would take my train to his house, and we would play trains for hours and hours.

Back in those days trains were a lot different than they are today. Most trains had coal-burning steam engines that spewed out huge clouds of black smoke and white steam. Unlike today's modern trains that run smoothly and quietly, the trains I remember as a boy were dirty and noisy and rough-riding. But it was always exciting to see them when they stopped at the railroad station. The fireman and the engineer had to take on water for the boilers, grease the wheels and sometimes hook up more train cars. Being a railway worker was back-breaking dirty work.

There were two major railroads that ran through my home town of Cedar Falls, the Rock Island Line and the Illinois Central. There was also the Waterloo, Cedar Falls & Northern. The was a local line that went north and south not too far from our house. There was also a small train line that delivered coal to the college. It ran two blocks from our house. It ran so slow that we could pass it on our bicycles. I had a friend named Gerry whose dad was a engineer on the WCF&N, and occasionally Gerry got to ride with his dad on the train. He was the envy of us all.

Fairly often my dad made business trips around the state, and he usually took the train. That meant that we would all get to drive to the station to send him off. It also meant that we got to watch the Land of Corn come into town and stop at the Rock Island depot. That was a real excitement. My dad would board the train and wave goodbye, and slowly the big black engine would build up steam. The engineer would sound the whistle, push the throttle and the train would slowly begin to move. Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! The Land of Corn would gradually gather gain speed until it was out of sight. But we could still hear the Chug, Chug, Chug and the blast of the whistle as my mother drove us home.

A week later my dad would come home and we got to do it all over again in reverse. The Land of Corn always arrived at 9:30PM. It was great to have my dad home again.

One summer there was a horrible train accident when a fire engine on its way to a fire was struck by a train. The firemen were sounding their siren and didn't hear the train coming. Just as the fire engine crossed the tracks it was hit by the train at full speed. Unfortunately, the firemen were all killed. After that they moved the fire station away from the railroad tracks.
It was a very sad time for the city of Cedar Falls.

My brother and I shared a bedroom on the second story of our house. On hot summer nights we always slept with the windows wide open. Shortly before 9:30 we could hear the Land of Corn coming into town and drawing to a stop at the Rock Island depot down town. Later on we could hear the departure whistle blow and the Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! as the train left town again. We both listened to the train sounds as long as we could stay awake. Those are sounds I will never forget.

The Rock Island depot is still there, but it's now a bank. The trains no longer stop there the way they used to.

I know how much you like trains. I like them, too. Trains have changed a lot since I was a boy. I can't imagine what trains will be like when you grow up.

Love you, Grampa

Christmas at the Farm

Ethan

While I write this you and your dad are driving to Chico to spend some Christmas time with Grandma Fossum and me. Here in Chico we are both anxiously awaiting your arrival. The Christmas tree is lighted, Grandma is busy in the kitchen, and the gifts are under the tree. We can hardly wait to see you.

As I await your arrival I am thinking back to my childhood as I remember driving to my Grammy Spickler's home on the farm. There were five of us packed in the blue Chevrolet along with numerous gifts. Our route took us 140 miles past snow-covered fields as we passed dozens of beautifully decorated farmhouses, several towns and across the Mississippi River. Grammy Spickler was always waiting at the front door when we arrived.

The Christmas tree was cut from the woods in the back of the farm and it was always trimmed beautifully with many special decorations hanging from the branches.

It took time for all of the friends and relatives to arrive, especially when there was a bad snow storm. As they gathered there was talk of the weather and the corn crop, farm machinery and crop prices.

It took a long time to prepare dinner. There were a lot of mouths to feed, usually relatives I didn't know very well. Grammy Spickler's sisters were there: Aunt Nellie and Sister Ella, and boy could they cook. It seemed to take hours to prepare the dinner, but it was worth the wait. It seemed that Grammy Spickler was always in the kitchen

Once we sat down and said grace, the dinner was served: Roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh baked rolls, string beans, and dessert. Dessert was home-baked apple pie and white layer cake.

Since there wasn't room for adults and children at the table, we kids sat at our own table.

My cousin, Keith was just back from the War, and he and Elaine were newlyweds. I remember them sitting on the couch and snuggling. One Christmas Keith had to bring in a whole litter of baby pigs to keep them warm. They wouldn't have survived if they had stayed in the barn. By the next day the pigs were back with their mother and doing fine.

The big excitement, of course, was opening the presents. One year I got my electric train and another year I got my new Silver Streak sled. Most of our gifts were practical: a new flannel shirt, or a stocking cap, new winter gloves and story books.

My brother and I always wanted to stay up late so we could see Santa Claus, but we could never stay up that late. Grammy Spickler's house didn't have a fireplace, so we hung our stockings from the railings on the stairway.

We were always up early and came down stairs quietly so as not to bother the grownups. And guess what, Santa had been there! He never let us down. Grammy Spickler was already in the kitchen preparing breakfast. We asked here if she saw Santa Claus, and she would say, nope, I didn't get up that early.

Grammy Spickler was the only grandparent I ever knew. She was loving but firm and always had a twinkle in her eye. If I got out of line she would always say that she was going to pulverize me. I had know idea what pulverize really meant. But I knew enough to know that I'd better not do what I was doing. That's all I needed to know.

I loved to go to the farm. It was where my mother was born and where she grew up. I felt free at the farm, and I always felt safe. Most of all, I loved the farm at Christmas time.

Portia and me

I loved going to my grandmother's farm in Illionis. My mother was born and raised there.

My grandmother was widowed by the time I came along, and she ran the farming operation assisted by a couple of hired men, mainly neighbors. She tended the chickens, raised the garden, cooked the meals, and maintained the house. Grammy Spickler was a not a large woman, but she was strong and could carry two buckets of water from the pump quite easily.

She was very loving , but could be sterm when need be. When my sister and I got out of line, she would say that she was going to pulverize us or skin us alive. We had no idea what that meant, but it had to be something pretty awful. When we went to bed at night she always tucked us in and said our nightly prayer. "Now I lay me down to sleep."

I always had trouble going to sleep at night because I knew I'd get to see my friend Portia the next day. Portia lived on a farm about half a mile up the the road. At 9:00 Grammy Spickler would call Portia's mom to see if we could play together. The answer was always "yes."

So off I went up the road to Portia's farm. It was a long walk, especially in the winter. But I knew Grammy Spickler watched me all the way.

Portia's family raised horses and frequently road in trail rides and local horse shows. They were members of the Illinois City Saddle Club. Portia had two shetland ponies named Danny and Peanut, and they were the reason that I didn't sleep very well the night before. Portia and I were going to saddle up and ride.

Portia came out of the house wearing a checked shirt, dirty Levi's and a pair of worn-over cowboy boots that were hand-me-downs from Portia's older brother, Vaughn. (My sister had a crush on Vaughn.)

We saddled up the ponies and headed down into the timber. We would ride all morning before heading back up to the house where we ate peanut butter sandwiches and glasses of fresh farm milk. But first we unsaddled and watered the ponies, fed them some oats and let them roll in the dust.

After lunch we road the ponies back down to Grammy Spickler's farm and ate some of Grammy Spickler's sugar cookies and a glass of milk. After our snack we saddled up again and raced the ponies back to Portia's farm. For a while we'd help Vaughn do some of the chores in the barn. By then it was time for me to head back down the road to my grandmother's farm.

For years Portia and Iwere great friends. As we got older we rode bigger horses, took longer rides and participated in some of the saddle club events on Matched Pairs with fancy saddles and bridles. Portia's farm was sold after a big fire that took the house and barn. Portia got married and moved to a farm down in the bottom land along the Mississippi River. A few years back while Diane and I were visiting my cousin Keith we drove down to visit Portia who was just the same as ever, dirty jeans, rolled over cowboy boots, smoking a cigarette. Life hadn't been easy for Portia.

That's when I realized that in all the years of our friendship that Portia was not a boy.

Dry Run Creek

I had a Tom Sawyer kind of childhood. We lived close to the edge of town, only a couple of blocks from my home. Beyond that, just across 27th Street, was pretty much open farm land, and running through that land was Dry Run Creek.

The source of the creek was in Grundy County, some thirty miles from Cedar Falls, the town where I grew up. It twisted its way through country farmland until it eventually flowed through Cedar Falls and into the Cedar River.

For an eight-year-old kid it drew me like a magnet. With my friends, Chuck and Gerry, who lived across 27th Street, I spent long summer days at the creek. It was a place of wonderment for a kid like me.

My dad bought me a fishing pole, and along with my friends I spent hours along the creek with a can of night crawlers and a line in the water catching northern creek chubs and the occasional carp. We would catch them, throw them back in the water and catch them again.

After a good rain the creek would run full to its banks. We stood back in awe as the water roared by. As the the water level dropped we stripped off our clothes and went swimming. Of course our parents told us not to go into the water because it was dangerous. But the temptation was overwhelming and we swam anyway. I got more than one tongue-lashing from my mother about those swims.

While the water stayed up we built a raft out of an old door and a couple of tire tubes and floated down the creek like Tom and Huck.

As the summer progressed the creek nearly dried up so we went crawdad hunting in the remaining pools. Sometimes we caught a bucketful. Most of them were pretty small, but occasionally there were some really big ones. We kept them just to show them off.

When we got a little older we got braver and ventured farther up the creek to a mysterious place called Three Bears' Cave. It wasn't really a cave and there weren't any bears, but it was a great adventure and we could brag to our friends that we did it.

As the summer wore on and we got bored with catching crawdads we would try our best to snare gophers because there was a 25 cent bounty on gopher tails if we took them downtown to the feed store. We never caught any and I never heard of anyone getting a 25 cent bounty. But we kept trying.

The creek froze over in the winter and we could go ice skating for miles. We had to watch out for large stones or we'd have a big crash. More than once I went home with some major battle scars. Skating at Prexy's Pond was a better place to skate. But, that's another story that goes along with "Walnut Street Hill."

Many of my friends ran trap lines along the creek hoping to trap some muskrats or an occasional beaver. Jack Dodd, Bill's older brother, ran a trap line and did pretty well. I tended the traps with him a couple of times and learned several good lessons: You have to get up real early in the morning, your hands get really cold pulling traps out of freezing water, and skinning a muskrat was nasty.

Bill Stout and I built Indian shelters out of willow trees along the creek, searched for arrow heads and caught a snapping turtle.

The creek is still there, but it's all built up around it now. There's a huge church where there used to be a big cliff we climbed. The cliff got leveled by bulldozers.

I loved Dry Run Creek. I loved the adventures I had there. Somehow every little boy should have a "creek," someplace that is just for him to lay on his back and watch the cloud formations float by where a red-winged blackbird clings to a fluffy cattail.

We Wore Leather Helmets

In 1952 I was ten years old and in the fifth grade. We were in the old building on the Iowa State Teachers College campus which is now Sabin Hall. My teacher was Dr. Randall Bebb. Dr. Bebb was a tall, thin man with a reputation of being a stern teacher. He was a World War Two veteran and had spent a most of his military service in India supporting the airmen who were flying supplies to troops in China. We were all a little bit frightened of Dr. Bebb, but we all respected and revered him. We knew he was a very good teacher. He was my first male teacher.

We also had a new physical education teacher by the name of Bill Burke. Mr. Burke was a stalky burly kind of man whom I sure was also a war veteran. Mr. Burke was also the high school football coach. So, while the girls were with Ms. Schools, we boys learned about the game of football. We learned the football stance, how to hike a ball, how to carry the ball, how to kick the ball how to block and most of all teamwork. Most of us loved playing football and we couldn’t wait to play high school football.

We mostly played touch football, so we weren’t allowed to tackle and weren’t taught how to how to tackle. But that didn’t mean that we didn’t tackle when Mr. Burke wasn’t looking.

As a ten-year-old my parents allowed me to attend the high school games at O.R. Latham Stadium on the college campus. Usually I would walk to the games with my friends Chuck Sanders and Gerry Gress and sometimes with my best friend, Bill.

Mr. Burke and his high school team had pretty good season in 1952. In fact they went undefeated. But that wasn’t to last. After that school year Coach Burke moved to Oregon State University in Corvallis where he coached wrestling.

Mr. Burke’s replacement was big burly guy with a short butch haircut and intense eyes by the name of Carmen Ness. That year’s team did not do very well. After two years, Mr. Ness left to places unknown.

The new coach, who arrived in the fall 1955, was a guy with a southern accent who had played college football at the University of Rhode Island, by the name of John Aldrich. Coach Aldrich was to become a legend in his own time.

But his first season at Teachers College High School was a complete disaster. The team was not very talented and many of the players did not take the game seriously. All four of their football seasons did not go well. However they did do well in basketball and wrestling.

By that time I was in junior high school and I went to all of the home football games. I wanted to learn as much as I could about football. My best friend Bill and I played a lot of street football on Walnut Street with who ever wanted to play with us. A lot of time was taken up just choosing sides and establishing the boundaries. By the time the game started we would get called to supper

But I learned a lot playing street football, and I was really looking forward to playing high school football the next season.

My best friend Bill was a great athlete. He was excellent at every sport he played: baseball, basketball, football and most of all, tennis. I tried to do everything Bill could do, but he was always better. I tried to rationalize by reminding myself that he was two years older than me.
But that wasn’t it, and I had to admit it. Bill was simply the better athlete.

I really looked forward to playing high school football with Bill, but it was not to be. Bill kept breaking his foot. That ended his football career and we never got to play high school football together.

During my freshman and sophomore years I learned a lot and did well, playing on the junior varsity team. On two occasions I actually suited up and played in a couple varsity games.

During my freshman season most of our equipment and uniforms were old hand-me-downs from the college team. Our pads and helmets were ill fitting. The pants and jerseys had seen their better days. Sometimes they didn’t even match. My helmet didn’t have a face bar and I was constantly getting nosebleeds. Then I look up one day and saw my best friend Bill limping across the field. He had found a better helmet for me. No more nosebleeds.

The season of 1956 was beyond expectations, especially since they had won only one game the previous year. That was John Aldrich’s first year as coach and he took the team to five wins, two losses and one tie. It was also a very young team with tremendous expectations for the coming season.

During the off season I lifted some weights, ran on the track team, grew several inches taller and gained about ten pounds. I was excited about the 1957 football season.

When fall practices started every thing had changed. Coach Aldrich had installed a completely new offense: The Single Wing Offense with a Spinning Fullback. It was to change TCHS football for a number of years to come.

Along with the new playbooks Coach Aldrich handed out new practice jerseys, new game uniforms, new low-cut football shoes, and new helmets – leather helmets. Leather helmets hadn’t been used for years. But these were brand new helmets with full faceguards and I wore mine for three seasons and my brother more his for at least three more years. Today we would call them throwback helmets.

At home I spent a great deal of time studying the playbook. At practice time I became a living blocking dummy. It paid off for me because I learned a lot about the offense and that made me a better defensive player. During games I sat on the bench and had very little playing time, or should I say no playing time at all.

After the first game we all thought we had a pretty good team. After the second game we were convinced. The team won seven games in a row. With one game to go against Traer High School we were sure we could go undefeated.

In the fall of 1957 the entire state was hit with an awful flu epidemic. Schools were closed and our last football game was cancelled. Since we had the best win/loss record in the North Iowa Cedar League we won the championship. Not only that, the Teachers College High School Panthers was named Iowa state champions.

We thought we would have a pretty good team when practice started in 1958. We were big, we were fast, but we were inexperienced. It showed right away. There is not much we could say about the season of 1958, except that we got better as the season progressed. We ended up winning four games and losing four. We were disappointed and we had a lot yet to learn.

I joined the track team again just to stay in shape for football. I ended up placing second in the conference track meet and the district championships. For that I qualified for the state championships. That was the morning after the prom, so needless to say I didn’t do very well. I liked running track and I lettered three years, but I couldn’t wait for football to start again in the fall.

When football practice started in the fall of 1959 we were really excited. Were all experienced and by then we knew the offense well. We all believed we could go undefeated and out do the 1957 team that won the state championship by winning all eight games.






Our athletic director, Dr. Happ said, “We have a lot of big buys. We’re going to need a lot of toilet paper.” We also had a lot of returning lettermen who knew both offense and defense.

We beat St. Edmonds of Fort Dodge 31 to 6 in the opener, but we got a little cocky in game two and lost to Ackley 14 to 6. Three touchdowns were called back on penalties. We had a new player on our team who had moved from Ackley High to TCHS. He just happened to have been the one who committed the penalties. Of course no one could prove what we all suspected.

We put that loss behind us and went on to six consecutive wins. We beat Grundy Center 7 to 0 at Grundy in a driving rain and mud storm. Jerry Gross scored on the opening kickoff and that was it. We spent the rest of the game in the mud. We had never played in a better defensive game.

We won the last game against Traer. But the best thing was that Grundy Center beat Ackley. Ackley had lost two games. Grundy ended up with a 7 and 1 record. We had ended up with a 7 and 1 record but we won the championship because we had beaten Grundy Center.

It has been nearly fifty years since I put on my leather helmet for the last time. As my brother, Hugh, was five years younger than me he played football for Coach John Aldrich four more years winning several championships.

For several more years John Aldrich’s Panthers dominated the North Iowa Cedar League. He changed high school football in Northeast Iowa for many years to come.

Coach Aldrich wrote the book on The Single Wing Offence With a Spinning Fullback. The last time I saw Coach Aldrich was in 1995 when he stopped by my parents’ home in Cedar Falls and presented both my brother and me an autographed copy of his book. I have read it several times since then. Recently he and his book were mentioned in a Sports Illustrated feature article,.

Ethan,

Sports have been a big part of my life both as an athlete and as a fan. I am so happy that you are playing T-Ball. I hope you keep up your interest in sports. The more sports you do, baseball, soccer, swimming, fishing, running like your mother and Aunt Cheney do, golf, tennis and many, many more the better your life will be.

I hope you and your dad have enjoyed this story.

Love, Grampa