HAPPY MEMORIES KEEP SWIMMING AROUND IN DUANE & JOHN'S MEMORIES

 

This nostalgia post by Duane Harbert, Class of 1951, sparked memories of swimming spots for Monongah High alumni, including me.

Duane’s post:

“This is a picture a friend took of the Worthington dam when we were recently in West Virginia.  As reported in an earlier article on this blog.

What an improvement in the water quality from when I was a child. When we lived in Worthington the water was filled with acid mine drainage. There was no vegetation or aquatic life in the river.

The water is clear and there were mussel shells on the shore.  I was glad to see the improvement in the water quality but I was saddened by the fact that no one was enjoying the beach and river  like we used to when I was a kid.

Seeing this site brought back a flood of good memories. I didn't realize how photogenic this site is until I saw this picture.  

Duane.”

I had two favorite memories of my teen swimming days.

1. Coal Hole, which was so deep that we could NEVER touch bottom because coal operators dug it out so deep. So much sulphur still in it that my mother sent me there when I had poison ivy because it dried it up much faster than slapping calamine lotion on my body.

2. The Twelfth Street Swimming Pool with its purified water that was an oasis for Monongah’s children till polio hit. Then Coal Hole became a safer option. Less crowded. Less chance of polio.

As the decades rolled by my late wife, My Mona Lisa, decided she wanted a swimming pool on our Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio property.

It was natural for her to think that way.

Her grandfather owned a lake atop a mountain in West Virginia. Her father was a lifeguard keeping an eye on the customers. In fact, that’s how her father suffered his hearing loss, by diving into the water and striking a hard, maybe rocky bottom.

Anyway, I could never say no to My Mona Lisa.

We bought two lots, one on the corner and the adjoining lot, when we first purchased our Cuyahoga Falls home on Morrison Avenue.

The house sat on one lot. We had a swimming pool built on the other lot. I personally designed the shape by laying out the tubing provided by the construction company. No rectangular pool for us. Very artistic irregular lines.

 Half the pool went from 3 to 4 feet deep so that beginners could enjoy it without fear of drowning.

The other half went quickly from 4 feet to 9 feet, perfect for diving and swimming.

My Mona Lisa would swim the length of that pool, back and forth, for hours. Not for speed. But for pleasure and exercise.

All seven grandchildren learned to swim in that pool with one simple rule. If you couldn’t swim non-stop the width of the pool and back then you weren’t qualified to go to the deep end.

It’s called motivation. Seeing an older grandchild having so much fun in the deep end had grandchild after grandchild making the non-stop round trip in the shallow end.

Many a plastic, inflatable pool toy took a beating in that deep end. High leaps, loud plops and another toy lost its air completely.

But everyone in our family – 2 grandparents, 3 children and 7 grandchildren – became proficient swimmers in that pool.

Just as Duane has heartwarming memories of Worthington Dam and many Monongah High students have happy thoughts of Coal Hole and the 12^th Street Swimming Pool in Fairmont the Olesky extended family to this day basks in nostalgia talking about the family pool in Cuyahoga Falls.

It was built in 1983. And it was used every summer, with 2,500 rhododendron blooms surrounding it (yes, my grandsons and I counted all the blooms one summer), until My Mona Lisa passed away in 2004 and Paula and I sold our homes in Cuyahoga Falls and Akron in 2006 and moved into our jointly owned condo in nearby Tallmadge.

But the memories of Coal Hole, the 12^th Street Pool and the Olesky family pool will always be swimming around in my memories.

Just like the Worthington Dam swirls around in Duane Harbert’s mind.

Thanks, Duane, for opening the floodgates of happy memories for both of us!

 

1939 MONONGAH HIGH GRADUATES WERE A CLASS ACT

 

This 1989 photo of the Class of 1939 holding a 50^th anniversary reunion at the Ramada Inn in Morgantown, where the Monongah High Alumni Banquet was held at that time (I was there along with Bob “Satch” Kasper, my fellow Class of 1950 friend for 83 years), brought back a LOT of memories.

Ruth Patrick Tetrick, for one.

Virgil Vingle is music to my ears, of course.

Gerald Spragg is a connection to Harold Spragg, als in my Class of 1950.

Vincent Vingle brings another tingle of musical memories.

Saundra Tetrick Loretta, Class of 1966, was married to Dave Loretta, Class of 1961, before she passed away. Sandy was Maid of Marion in 1966 and prom queen of Monongah High,  escorted by Richard Davidson.

 

Patricia Ann Tetrick Judy, a retired Watson Elementary teacher who passed away in 2015 and was a daughter of Gladys and Paul Tetrick, was survived by her brother, Robert Tetrick of Fairmont and her nephew, Rocky Tetrick.

Ron Tetrick, who passed away in 2017, was married to fellow 1958 grad Rosemary Lushinski Tetrick, who grew up 2 houses away from my Church Street home with Mary Margaret Sayre Lewis prancing around in the house that was next door to my home and Rosemary’s home.

 

Rosemary’s siblings are Laraine Lushinski Clark, Class of 1964, who married Denny Clark, and John Lushshinski, Jr. 

 

Rosemary is the godmother of Renee Straight, a WVU Ruby Memorial pharmacist, who is the daughter of  my sister Jackie Olesky Straight, Class of 1955, who today lives in Rivesville and is co-host of the J&J&Lions Get-Together in the Monongah Town Hall 6-9 p.m. Saturday, July 17.

 

Prudy Tetrick Funk, Class of 1960, married Jim Funk and lived in Denver, Pennsylvania before moving to Longwood, Florida to be near her daughter, Stacey Funk Jackson, who had a home there.

 

Prudy’s mother was Ruth Paxton Tetrick, Class of 1939. Prudy’s sister, Penny, was Class of 1961. Sisters Peggy and Pamela graduated from high schools in Baltimore.

 

The Vingle bands are right up there in Monongah history. Vince was Class of 1939, of course.

 

Virgil Roman Vingle passed away in Monongah at the age of 90 in 2010. He was preceded in death by his wife, Betty Vingle. Virgil was survived by his companion of 20 years, Irene Colosino.

 

His parents were Anthony and Anna Vingle of Monongah.

 

The Virgil Vingle Orchestra performed all over the tri-state area, for dances, weddings and festivals. He was a World War II veteran with the Marines.

 

 

Barry has played with the United Mine Workers Concert Band, the Morgantown Municipal Band, the Jim Talkington Jazz Quartet, the Royals rock band, the Virgil Vingle Orchestra, The JR Farley Band, The Sydfx Rock Band and the Orlando Colombo Orchestra the Subway Band out of Morgantown.

 

Barry has played drum set for The Four Aces, The Shanri-Las, These Three Tenors and Fabian. 

 

Barry also was the drummer in J.R. Farley’s Royals band for 40 years. Farley was on keyboards, Casey Shaner was the vocalist, Ed Vanhorn was on the guitar and Bob Schmit on the bass.

 

 

 

Delores Vingle Olender, Class of 1951,was a vocalist with the Ray Vingle band.

 

 

Raymond Vingle, Class of 1945, also knew his way around musical instruments. It was mandatory in the Vingle family.

 

Virgil Vingle, whose band enchanted Monongah folks for decades, was the stepfather of Judy Stewart Monell Razook, Class of 1959.

 

Judy once told me:

 

 “The Vingle Band was The Greatest!! My Dad was the Leader, Bugs his younger brother, the drummer, and Vince, also a brother, played trumpet !!!!”

 

At Monongah High Judy dated Joe Martin, Class of 1957, long before Joe moved to Treasure Island, Florida with wife Arlene Kitchin, who was born in Canada.

 

As for Gerald Spragg, his brother was Harold Spragg, in the Class of 1950 with me. Harold was married for 63 years to Karen Eddy Spragg and, at Monongah High, had the nickname of “Flopbottle.” I don’t know why.

 

Gerald and Harold’s siblings were Geraldine Spragg Gawthrop, Class of 1939, and Bernice Spragg Detwiler, Class of 1945.

 

 

Their parents, who had a thing for alliteration when they named their children, were Grover Spragg and Mary Jane Yost Spragg.

 

Not in the photo but in the Class of 1939 was Margaret Browning Beccaloni, Marie Hardin Porter, Jane Kanios Bernardo (who I met at a funeral for one of her siblings in Akron, Ohio), Helen Moosey (who had done superb work on updating information and photos of Monongah High alumni) and Thelma Wright Colburn.

 

Sure, this article is long. But only because there are so many memories of the Class of 1939. After all, they attended Monongah High with the effects of the Great Depression still weighing down America and World War II pouncing on the world courtesy of Adolph Hitler, the man with the puny mustache and a huge effect on world history and survival of Jews.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWIN MEMORIAL AND MEMORY LANE FOR DUANE HARBERT

 

Duane Harbert, Class of 1951, took a winsome trip down memory lane from his Marlton, New Jersey home to West Virginia.

Well, I’ll let Duane tell you in his own words:

Good afternoon,

This past Sunday, June 27th, we had a a memorial service in Parsons, West Virginia for Mary and my son Tom.  Had a really nice turnout.

The next day two other couples (friends from New Jersey) went with me on a nostalgia trip to Marion and Harrison counties. Some things looked different and others looked the same. I introduced them to WV style hotdogs, crooked and narrow roads and WV hospitality.

We had dinner at Say-Boys (at their new location) with Okie and Arlene Edgell and  Eugene  (Buck) and Joanne Blagg. Had a great time. 

After dinner we went to Arlene's house for dessert and to see some of the work she and Okie do with their embroidery and quilting machines. They have produced some incredible pieces of art. The photographer was really interested in the work they do because she is also into quilting, sewing and many other crafts. 

It was an emotional trip but it really brought back a alot of good memories.

Duane

Son Tommy passed away in 2014 at the age of 51 after a 3-year battle with bladder cancer. That had to be tough to deal with.

Duane’s wife, Mary Donham Harbert, passed away in 2019.

Duane was part of the facetiously named Gang That Terrorized Marion County (we were rascals but not a terror in our teens) which include Bob “Satch” Kasper, Class of 1950, my friend for 83 years who lives in South Lyon, Michigan; Tony Eates, also Classof 1950, who lives in Fairmont with wife Lucy Cann Eates; Frank “Bruno” Franze, also Class of 1950, who lives in Slidell, Louisiana after out-loving two wives; retired West Virginia Highway Patrol Officer Steven “Bucky” Satterfield, Class of 1950, who lives in St. Albans; the late Lawrence “Sonny” Godby, also Class of 1950 (seeing a pattern here?); Donald Jake Halpenny, yep Class of 1950, who lives in Fairmont; and, all deceased, Ronnie “Cooley” Delovich, Anthony “Plumber” DeMary, Class of 1950 (of course), Joe Manzo, who survived combat in Korea; and Jim “Judge” Starcher, another Class of 1950.

Our most famous exploit was swimming in the Fairmont Field Club pool at 3 a.m. It was obvious when the police showed up that the country club help didn’t appreciate it. I walked home barefoot without my shoes but, when I woke up, my father stood there with my shoes and an unhappy scowl on his face (I did that a lot to him in those day). Marion County Deputy Sheloskie, father of my sister Jackie’s friend Lorain, brought the shoes to our Church Street home.

While everyone made a break for it the car that Duane drove didn’t and it was owned by Duane’s father, Thoburn principal Frank Harbert. Cops checked the car license plate, found out he it belonged to and everyone there was nailed to the wall.

We were brought into the Considation Coal Company office in Fairmont, given a “Scared Straight” treatment (long before it became popularized nationally), and turned over to our fuming parents.

It came under the category of “boys will be boys.” At least there were no girls involved.

Duane’s mother, Goldie, taught at Worthington Grade School. 

Duane’s brother, John Harbert, Class of 1955, and his wife, Karen Colvin, also Class of 1955, are deceased.

James M. Harbert of Taylor, Pennsyvania and David L. Harbert of Stratford, New Jersey are Duane’s other sons.

Bye, bye, motorcycle license

The cycle of life

I no longer have a motorcycle license for the first time in 50 years.

When I got my Ohio driver’s license renewed a week before my 88^th birthday November 5, 2020, the clerk said:

“No more motorcycle on your driver’s license?”

I guess she figured an 88-year-old and a motorcycle were a bad combination.

So my new Ohio driver’s license no longer will have a “motorcycle” designation.

I was 38 when I rode a motorcycle for the first time, thanks to the late Gene Gray, a good-hearted electrician in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio who loved to share his toys with his friends.

He gave me some instructions and put me on his 250 cc Benelli, built by an Italian motorcycle company that began in 1911, sold shotguns first, then was taken over by Argentine owners and currently Chinese owners.

What a thrill it was when I rode that Benelli up the Gray farmland hill in Willard, Ohio and then soared into the air when I reached the top of the steep mini-cliff! I was hooked.

Gene sold me the Benelli. Hell, practically gave it away.

Eventually the Olesky home in Cuyahoga Falls had the Benelli, a 175 cc Yamaha, a 125 cc Honda, a Penton dirtbike and a 75 cc step-through Yamaha that I drove to work daily.

The baby Yamaha put me into a hospital ER when I crashed into a curb in the sudden rain on my way to work at the Akron Beacon Journal. Afterward, I showed up a work, then passed out. The late printer Terry Dray reached across the turtle where we were putting together a page of hot type to keep me from slamming into the floor.

The Olesky family rode those motorcycles with our “gang,” other parents with their children, in Ohio, in West Virginia, in Pennsylvania and in New York. On non-interstate roads, on logging trails.

Gene would be in the lead motorcycle and I would be riding shotgun (last bike in a line of up to 15 motorcycles) to protect the riders between Gene and me from auto traffic.

I once got the Benelli up to 85 mph on a straight road with no traffic in either direction. Wind whipping at the face protector on my helmet. If you haven’t done it, you just can’t understand it.

My personal Mona Lisa, my late wife, sold the motorcycles when the children were reaching the age where they could legally buy their own bikes. “If they kill themselves on a motorcycle,” Monnie said, “then at least it won’t be my fault.”

I’ve driven about everything that moves in my lifetime, including an elephant in Thailand that splashed gleefully into a water ride with Paula and me seated atop it. And horses at Blackwater Falls in West Virginia, till one tried to rub me off with a tree. Maybe he was prejudiced against a Polish-American in his saddle. And a camel with the Great Pyramids of Egypt in the background.

Motorboats. “Crew” member of a sailboat on Lake Erie. Trains between Virginia and Florida and Cass Railroad for tourists to the highest point in West Virginia.

Hot air balloon drifting above the land in Ohio.

Wrecked a few, too, in my youth.

Scooter, wagon, a child’s contraption that you sat on a seat and pulled the handle and shaft back and forth to get it moving, bicycle. Well, it was a reddog road, which meant there were a lot of rocks and few smooth paths. So over the holler I went on Thomas Street in Monongah, West Virginia, time after time. Once, Tom Retton who lived across the holler on Jackson Street saw my unconscious body 100 feet down the ravine from the road. He carried my lifeless form to our house, knocked on our door and told my Mom, “Here’s your son.” She fainted.

Mom fainted several times over my misadventures which required medical treatment.

I’ve also been on cruise ships more than a dozen times, in commercial jet passenger planes including one that was close enough to the North Pole to see the aurora borealis on our way to China.

I’d skied snowy slopes in Ohio, once almost sending one ski to one side of a tree and the other to the other side, stopping barely in time and preventing a split “personality.” And water-skied in the Ohio River and on Lake Erie.

I crashed a friend’s borrowed bicycle into a parked truck in Monongah. Learned some new curse words from the truck’s owner.

I rode wooden toboggans done commercial chutes in Ohio, wind blowing through my hair (I had hair then). I went sledriding on the hills around Monongah where we had to drag our feet at the bottom to keep from being scalped by barbed wire. One girl didn’t do it fast enough and lost a lot of hair and scalp.

When the 1950 snowstorm of 45.5 inches hit northern West Virginia I rode my sled down steep Swisher Hill because automobiles weren’t able to navigate U.S. 19. We were going so fast at the bottom that we had to drag out feet going UP the next hill to keep from flying off the curve and into injuries.

I’ve ridden miniature hot-rods on commercial tracks.

I hitch-hiked, between my freshman and sophomore years in college, from Monongah to Chicago to Philadelphia to Monongah. My mother gave me two $20 bills and had me put one in each sock. When I returned home after my 1,300-mile journey, I still have one $20 bill in one of the socks.

One of the drivers who gave me a ride told me how he was heading back to Montana to shoot the guy who stole his wife from him. I made sure not to irritate the driver the rest of my ride from Massillon, Ohio to near Chicago.

I took lessons to be an airplane pilot but never actually flew a plane. My mother-in-law said, with my penchant for running out of gas in automobiles, that I probably would run out of gas with the plane.

I never tried skydiving because I knew I wouldn’t be able to find the ripcord in time to keep my body from slamming into the ground.

I’ve used transportation to visit 56 countries and 44 states. Thailand was my favorite foreign country. Beautiful scenery, beautiful people (inside and out). We took a large rowboat to the water markets in Bangkok. We did our shopping without leaving the boat. The merchants just handed our purchases from their boat to our boat.

Lot of memories. They help sustain me during the stay-home pandemic year.

I’ve had plenty of varooms in my life. And not just on the motorcycles.