Page 71 - People & Places In Time

handlebar to alert people that he was near.
Across the alley from Wolever’s was a large
house, now gone, even though a smaller newer house stands there now, at least I don’t think it’s the same one. There was a girl with the name Gail,
perhaps a year or so older than me
living here with her family and that’s all
I know, except we were friends when I was perhaps eight or nine. Next door to their house was a large vacant, corner lot with a huge Fig tree in the middle, and I mean one of the biggest I’ve ever seen. Beneath the tree spread a pile of large quarried pieces of granite and I have no idea why. This must have come from the quarry on the back side of Rocky Hill. Nevertheless, an interesting place for Gail and me to hang out under the fig tree. This corner now holds a building for Moonlight Maintenance, a business still owned by old friends, Bob and Lana Dickie.
On Saturdays at noon I would receive my allowance from dad; 50 cents. Following lunch, I walked to the movie theater downtown, on ‘E’ street. The Saturday afternoon show included a movie, perhaps a Johnny Mack Brown western or “Godzilla” or something similar, along with a Tom and Jerry or Bugs Bunny cartoon. Halfway thru the show was an intermission of games and contests from on stage, just for kids; all this for 25 cents.
On other days I might walk
downtown to Woolworths five & dime.
Inside I walked up, and down isles filled
with small toys that I couldn’t afford; yet I could amuse myself by just looking and using my imagination. Years later I know this experience influenced me when build- ing my design stores in Fresno. I wanted people who came in to feel comfortable, to simply be allowed to enjoy looking, just as I had, as a young boy in Wool-
worths. Once a customer entered my stores, sooner or later, I knew they would return when they could afford something that possibly had caught their eye. Never diminish the value of giving away dreams.
323 Lenox Avenue
In the spring of 1955, I’m ten years old and sitting in Mrs. Moffet’s fifth grade classroom at Lincoln Elementary school. Three things stand
out in memory from this time: First is Carolyn Newcomb, she’s the daughter of my third-grade teacher from the year before, Mrs. Newcomb. I was over- whelmed by the crush that I carried for Carolyn. Sitting at my desk I couldn’t help staring across the room toward her and I’m sure this was not helping with my schoolwork. I thought about her
all the time although I’m sure that I never made her aware of the way I felt.
Because they lived in Visalia, Caro- lyn came to Exeter with her mother
for convenience, to attend school. As the end of each school day arrived, she just left town, unlike my other friends
I could see after school. Then, because her mother began teaching in Visalia
the following year, Carolyn was gone from my life forever. I understand from a friend, Jackie Mackie, who went to high school in Visalia with Carolyn that she’s still living in Visalia, perhaps I’ve walked past her about town and didn’t even recognize her, with more than sixty years since the fourth grade. If the opportunity should happen, I’ll certainly let her know how I felt so long ago.
Second, is Mrs. Moffett herself, my teacher; the first to have a profound effect on my life. There was a fifteen- minute program, the Standard School
Broadcast, played once a week throughout California’s classrooms. It was hosted by the conductor of the Hollywood Bowl orchestra, Carmon Dragon. In itself not special, as every classroom, I think, listened to it. Mrs. Moffett would discuss the program, then most importantly, she had us lay our heads on our arms at
The first ten years of my life were safe, I walked the five blocks to Lincoln Grammar School alone or with friends. I explored alley ways, walked railroad tracks and rarely found trouble beyond a skinned elbow
. . . now, it’s time to move on.
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