Bob Kasper and I first met at the age
of 5 when we began first grade at Sts. Peter and Paul School in Monongah. They
didn’t have kindergarten in our dinosaur years.
We caddied together at Fairmont Field
Club, where we began golfing together at the age of 10.
We went through Monongah High
together as part of the faceitiously named Gang That Terrorized Marion County.
We were stupid but we weren’t mean or nasty. Just teenagers looking for fun and
finding trouble.
Nearly everyone in the “gang” had a
nickname. Bob’s was “Satch” for the Sach (we weren’t good on spelling it right’;
I didn’t know till a half-century later that the name was Sach and not Satch;
we did it phoenitcally) character played by Huntz Hall in the “Dead End Kids”
movies that, as the actors got older, became “The Bowery Boys” movie.
Huntz as Sach always work a cap,
which Leo Gorcey often grabbed off his head and whacked him with it. Bob always
wore a cap, so the “Satch” nickname stuck.
Other members of the “gang,” who
would bring an empty gallon jug to Drummon’s Restaurant for a fillup of beer
(only requirement in those days was to have the money to pay for the beer).
Then we’d be off to a drive-in theater, with 2 in the auto that drove in and
the rest of us climbing over the fence for a freebie. Or to the river for some
skinny-dipping.
Other times we did our swimming in
Coal Hole, formed when the coal company scooped coal and dirt out of the
ground. There was so much Sulphur in the Coal Hole water that my mother would
send me there when I got poison ivy because it dried up the scratchy stuff in
two days. Better than Calamine Lotion and free!
Other members of the “gang” who
gathered near the Tropea Grocery and Julie Carlot bar and grill on U.S. 19
(Camden Avenue) to hitch-hike to Fairmont when fellow member Frank Franze
didn’t get his father’s car and drive in from Everson.
When Frank had his car he would stop
along the way, from Willowdale Drive in “Frogtown” where Bob lived past the
Union Hall and the entrance to the Stoney Lonesome street, to other “gang”
members along the way.
I usually was the last pickup. By
that time I had to really squeeze to get into the Franze car for a night of
frolicking.
We also got the idea of swimming in
the Fairmont Field Club where we caddied, at 3 a.m.! The hired help called the
police and we scattered. I walked home barefoot for three miles, sneaked into
the door and went upstairs to my bedroom (the back part of a former attic with
a bathroom created in the front part).
Whew! Right? When I woke up my father
was standing by my bedside with the shoes I have abandoned while running from
the police. Frank Koloskie, Marion County Deputy Sheriff and father of Lorain
Koloskie, my sister Jackie’s best friend, had returned them to my dad.
Not such a clean escape after all,
huh?
All of us were hauled down to
Fairmont with our parents into the Consolidation Coal Company office (my dad
worked for Consol in the Monongah mine) and given a “scared straight” talk long
before that term became popular.
Other “gang” members were Ronnie
“Cooley” Delovich, the worst troublemaker in our group; Anthony “Plumber”
DeMary, whose nickname reflected his talents with tools; Anthony “Tony” Eates;
Frank “Bruno” Franze; Donald “Jake” Halpenny; Duane Harbert; Joe Manzo; me,
“Junior” because my father and I both were John Olesky; Steven “Bucky”
Satterfield; and Jim “Judge” Starcher.
Alas, Cooley, Plumber, Joe, Sonny and
Judge passed away. Tony and Jake live in Fairmont, Duane (who goes by Donald,
his first name, since the Army made him stick with it) lives in Marlon, New
Jersey; Bruno lives in Slidell, Louisiana; Bucky is a retired West Virginia
Highway Patrolman living in St. Albans. I live in Tallmadge after 35 years in
adjacent Cuyahoga Falls, both towns bordering Akron.
Bob and I both played for the
Fairmont State golf team our first year there. Then I left for West Virginia
University School of Journalism.
Bob went with Lawrence “Sonny” Godby
in an attempt to join the Air Force. But Bob’s partial dental plate caused a
turndown and Sonny went on the become a Marine fighter pilot with two tours of
duty in Vietnam.
Bob and I had reunions at his South
Lyon, Michigan home and, more often, at his Presque Island, Michigan home on
Grand Lake and about 2 miles from the Great Lakes. We played golf at Rogers
City, not far from Presque Island and Grand Lake.
Bob visited me at my Tallmadge, Ohio
home and we journeyed to Morgantown for Mountaineer Field football games. Tony
Eates, another “gang” member, was there, too.
In 1955 Bob sent me a Christmas card
that said “Old Times, Old Places, Old Friends.” I sent him one along similar
lines.
For 77 years those 2 Christmas cards
have traveled between Ohio and Michigan so that Bob and I always had one of the
cards. Both cards each year had the year and the names of everyone in the
family up to that year. Those two cards are like family Bibles, recording
marriages, births, deaths, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
The late John Veasey of the Fairmont
Times wrote about the two well-traveled Christmas Cards that put in thousands
of miles apiece.
The cards reflected My Mona Lisa’s
passing away in 2004 and Bob’s wife Pat in 2008. We both cried together each
time one of us lost our mate.
Bob’s children are Steven and Judith.
Mine are LaQuita, Bob’s godchild (who else?), John Larry and Monnie Ann.
An 84-year friendship is worth more
than all the gold in Fort Knox. I treasure it. I’m sure Bob will be waiting for
me in Heaven with my time comes.
We’ll renew our friendship.
Bob and I phoned each other every
week or two, including this year while Bob was staying with his son Steven and
Steve’s wife on 500 acres of farmland in the wife’s family, divided up among a
bevy of her and her relatives.
I talked to Bob a week or so before
he passed away Monday, March 7. When my phone rang “Country Roads” and the
ID said “Bob Kasper” I answered with my usual “Hi, Bob.” The voice on the other
end said, “This is Steven. Dad passed away.”
Son Steve responded to my request for his memories:
“My Dad was a good person. People refer to him as a kind and gentle man.
“I NEVER heard a person say anything bad about my dad.
“I NEVER heard my dad say anything bad about another person....EVER!
“He loved pets, especially dogs.
“Dad did not really speak a lot. He was not going to be the life of a party. He was more into listening.
“Whenever I had a problem that I needed help to solve, my dad was the first person I would go to. I always listened and did what he said.
“Dad liked to play billiards. I still have his pool table.
“Dad loved to play golf and I had the pleasure to play many rounds with him. He even got a Hole in One. (John Olesky: I witnessed it. We thought we saw the ball go behind the pin. When we got there I said, “Look in the cup.” He did. And I took the photo of Bob kissing the golf ball.)
“He loved to watch WVU basketball and Football.
“To this day, I try to be like my dad...he is my hero.”
Mine, too, Steve.
Lawrence and
Caroline Shipco Kasper were Bob’s parents.
Sister Helen was
adopted because Bob’s parents didn’t think they could have children. Maybe a
dozen years later Bob was born and then 3 years later Evelyn was born.
Bob’s grandchildren
were adopted, too. One day on the school bus when the children were talking
about pregnancy one of Satch’s grandchild popped up: “We don’t get pregnant; we
get adopted.” The school bus driver couldn’t wait to tell their waiting mom
about the incident. They both nearly collapsed with laughter.
Bob’s sister, Evelyn,
was married for 63 years to Otis “Okey” Boggess before she passed away. They
had three children, Kathy Peaslee and husband Rick of Youngstown, Ohio; John
Boggess and wife Sue of Monongah and Tish Boggess of Fairmont; four
grandchildren, Matthew Peaslee and wife Erin, Zachary Peaslee, Andrew Boggess
and Jacob Boggess.
Evelyn was preceased
by their sister, Helen Kasper Andrews.
Evelyn’s son, John
Boggess, owns the building that once housed the P.P. Shenasky Grocery on U.S.
19 (Camden Avenue) in Monongah.
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