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11/20/08 |
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In our drive to Cleveland, my three teammates were Roy Bade, Harry Henke, and McCarty. My fourth teammate, Jim Gogan did not come with us even though we drove his car, a Buick straight eight. Three days after our departure on Friday, April 14th, Jim left on the Streamliner Train. |
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There was a certain mystique about Jim Gogan. He worked at a casino on the sunset strip, but two weeks earlier he returned from a trip to Florida. Tall, lean, and swarthy, when smoking his cigar, he looked like a big time gambler. I knew for sure that he was after he told me that he had a fifty-dollar win ticket on Leading Article at Santa Anita. The horse paid $75.00 for a two-dollar ticket. Jim told us he would be staying at the Allerton Hotel in Cleveland. I gave him my Bedford phone number (292), so he could phone me after our arrival. Jim planned to retrieve his Buick from my teammates so he could take a short drive to Buffalo New York to visit his relatives. Leaving Los Angeles we drove straight through on Route #66 to Albuquerque, stopping overnight in an "auto court". We continued on Route #66 to Oklahoma City and then to St. Louis where Henke had relatives. Turning off Route #66, we headed for Indianapolis where we bowled an exhibition match. I was able to recruit Lou Foutts, a former Bedford bowler, to take Jim Gogan's place. This bowling match was a good practice session for our team; we would get another workout in Bedford against Augie Ross' Match Kings. McCarty remained in Indianapolis, his hometown, but he would rejoin our team in Cleveland on our scheduled ABC date. For our exhibition match in Bedford I arranged to have Harold (Dutch) Wehenmeyer take McCarty's spot on our team. Harold would also be my doubles partner at the ABC. Entering the Cleveland suburbs, on Route 42. I decided to get off at West 25th St. I took a streetcar to Miles Avenue and the Bedford Bus to the Public Square. Walking two short blocks I was home. And what a "homecoming" it was!
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The heart-warming reception from my family, relatives, and friends was unbelievable. For seven days I became a celebrity. It was as if I was a conquering hero. This was quite a contrast from the day that I left my mother, sisters, and Aunt Caroline all crying on the kitchen porch. On that day I was a lost soul -- a failure by any measure. I was aware that my experience at UCLA had brought a sea change to my life, but at home in Bedford, that awareness became more intense. I had to tell "my story" over and over, especially to my buddies Frank, Mickey, and Fred Romito. All three expressed a desire to leave Bedford. I encouraged them with the hope that they, too, could attend college.
On Sunday, April 23rd. The Bedford Recreation Alleys were packed with spectators to watch our Hollywood team take on Augie Ross' All Stars. Prior to the match, our team captain, Roy Bade, announced that the lottery drawing for the radio had been held in Los Angeles on April 3rd, and that someone in Bedford held the winning ticket. When Roy called out his name all were surprised to see Ed Garvey step forward to claim the radio. Incidentally, in 1931, Ed was my High School classmate. Bowling on lanes 3 and 4, we were in the center of the six-lane facility. The two lanes on either side of us were shut down to accommodate the spectators. Our bowling opponents were Augie Ross, Monty (Duke) Cross, Al DePompei, Tony DePompei, and Alex Silvestro. Our team won the 3-game match by a total of 75 pins, but both teams were not at their best. We scored a 2755 total versus 2680 by our opponents. The two highest series on the Bedford team were by my two cousins, Al De Pompei (583), and Tony De Pompei (578). On our team, I was highest with a 638 series (213-190-235); Harold was next with 583. It was a big thrill to bowl in front of my hometown spectators, and I was glad that I performed as well as I did. On Thursday at the ABC in Cleveland, our team again did not bowl at our best. But the next afternoon, Harold and I did win $80.00 in the Doubles Event. The check would be split 5 ways, netting each of us $16.00. As my seven days of glory were ending, the last highlight was a wonderful meal my Mom prepared for my teammates. We had her specialty – hand-made egg noodles, with meat sauce. With Dad's red table wine, it was a joyful feast. We returned to Los Angeles in two cars. Roy Bade had made arrangements to get a new "caravan" car in Detroit and drive it back for a friend in Los Angeles. Henke and McCarty returned with Roy Bade; I returned with Jim Gogan. In our trip back everything was swell. Jim liked my Dad's red wine so I gave him a gallon to take back to Los Angeles. Enjoying each other's company, we really got acquainted. It's surprising how taking a trip and living with strangers for a few days one can quickly recognize their good qualities or their flaws. I liked Jim and McCarty. I didn't think so much of Bade and Henke. I sent this penny postcard home soon after my arrival on May 1st. -– "Arrived in W. Los Angeles 6:30 P.M. The whole trip was swell. Am in the post office now, writing this. Henry is with me. We already ate some salami and cheese, drank some wine and etc. Uncle Attilio gave me two large boxes of food and wine. Henry is much thinner. I'm glad to be back here at school. A few days ago I was with you at home and now I'm back here again. It seems sort of strange. Love to all the family. Hope I can write soon. Love, Hugo". Things did not go well upon my return to UCLA. From the first day I got sick with tonsillitis and on top of this I started to itch. Mentioning this to Henry, he admitted readily that he was infected with "crabs" (lice) during my absence and that now I caught it from him. Flabbergasted, I was fit to be tied. Applying the medication that he was using, my itching ended within a week. Sending a second postcard on May 9th, I wrote "Sorry, I won't be able to write for a while. I'm overwhelmed with schoolwork. Everything else is swell. Henry and I have eaten most of the food Uncle gave me. My tonsils are bothering me again. I'm gargling hot salt water. Bought a new pair of shoes. Saw Tony Campana. Got Vito's letter and I also heard from Rudolph. My best wishes for happiness to Ma for Mother's Day. Love to all, Hugo". After my tonsillitis cleared up, I then caught a terrific cold in my chest and throat. In turn, Henry caught my cold. Feeling feverish, we drank a cup of "hot" wine just before bedtime. We continued to sip wine for several nights to induce sweating. That ended the fever and cleared up our colds. Besides my sickness, there was the "piper" to pay for my absence from school. I fell behind in all my class assignments. I was unable to caddy for two months and I failed to write a letter home for a month. When I did on Friday, May 26th, I told Vito that I didn't get to bed until 4:00 AM on the previous evening. I had to study for a "make-up" quiz in History. Also, I failed to turn in a term paper for my Art class. I got permission to hand it in late, but there were only five days left to do it. A crushing week loomed ahead with too little time to study for the final exams. Monday, May 29th was the last day of classes. At 1:00 PM I had to give a 8-minute speech for my final exam. I had to prepare it on this weekend. A 700 word assignment for my English class was also due on Monday, my last chance for credit. On Tuesday, Memorial Day, I planned to start that term paper, hoping to hand it in on Thursday. I would take my English final on Friday and my History final on Saturday, June 3rd. For the term paper in my English class I was surprised to get a grade of "B" with an additional comment from Professor Swedenberg. He wrote: "This paper is well written – notice and study errors indicated." Feeling a little more confident I began to write the term paper for my Art class. To get it done in four days, I had no choice but to make it personal and write what was in my heart. I handed it in only an hour before taking my final exam and I was not penalized for turning it in late. Here are selected excerpts from my term paper, "Art For The Multitude" -- "It happens every night. Men, women, and children keep moving slowly forward. They come from everywhere. There are men and women of every race and every tongue, moving slowly forward, seeking something, seeking, searching, yearning – seeking for a place to dream. Every minute of every hour of every day -- they come – millions of them. And over and above them, and in front of them, attracting them on, offering that which they desire, are billions of flickering shadows – the motion picture". (Quote by Will Hays) Like Will Hays I am intensely devoted to motion pictures. This attachment for the Cinema has its roots in my earliest recollections. My first feeling of being "esthetically moved" was in an Emil Jannings picture, "The Way of All Flesh". I saw this film 12 years ago (1927); but even so, I have a vivid recollection of the story and the acting of Jannings. Painting, sculpture, and architecture have been significant in influencing civilization. Yet, in a certain perspective, I feel this influence has been nil, and still is nil, when applied to the mass of individuals who never will be able to avail themselves of the Arts. The tragedy of our modern civilization is that this unfortunate group far outnumbers the artists and their restricted public. Since the Arts have been for the few, it has "moved" only the few. Yes, let me put it down: The Cinema is the most useful and most important of all the Arts. The "Esperanto" of aesthetics – it has the resources of universality. It tells its stories directly, simply, quickly and elementally. In the United States nine out of every ten persons attend the cinema every single week. The potential significance of this vast audience actually participating and being motivated to express their reactions from this new Art will result in an era which the world has never seen. Therein lies the Destiny of the Cinema, for only it can bring Art to the art-starved multitude. My one desire is to have some task –- any task -– in the producing of a film that will put on the screen the poetry of tomorrow. I want to set "John Doe" on fire, get him intoxicated –- drunk with emotion, for then, "Johnnie Doe" will experience a newly found freedom, and, he will enjoy the greatest of Arts -- the Art of Living. Dr. Cox's grade and comments were – This is sincere and that is the most important quality. It is also reasonably well written and should get "B+". For its enthusiasm it should rate "A-", but philosophers rate that as a risky virtue! Getting a "B" and a "B"+ on the two term papers was beyond my expectations. I'm sure they contributed to my final grades. With a little more confidence, I was ready to tackle my next three "finals" on June 6th, 8th, and 9th. Henry continued to work two hours daily for his meals but the cafeteria was closing Saturday for the summer. We started to caddy again on the weekends. A week earlier Henry received a letter from his sister, Helen, that her Father was planning to drive to Los Angeles and then drive north through the grape country. Henry was ready and willing to return home with his Dad. He felt sure that Uncle would invite me for the drive back. But, I wasn't sure that I would. On June 3rd I was startled and surprised to receive a telegram from Bedford. It was from Frank Nyerges -- "Will leave immediately if it is alright with you. Answer in a few days before I change my mind". I sent Frank a short letter telling him to stay put because I may come back with my Uncle and Henry. But then "Nap", Frank's younger brother sent me this telegram -- "Frank left Sunday morning at 1:30 for your city. Expects to arrive end of the week. Driving with friend to Salt Lake City. Hitchhiking from there. Suggest you wait". Then, in a penny post card from New Mexico, dated 6-6, 1939, 8:15 PM Frank scribbled this note: "Hi Zip, Well, here I come. I'm leaving Albuquerque in about a half hour. We're driving all night and day so I ought to be there Thursday morning, but I'm not sure. Anyway, look for me Thursday. So long, Frank". Right on schedule, Frank arrived on Thursday. He went to Mrs. Fernding's address and she told him how to get to the school. I'll never forget how we met on that sprawling campus. I had left the Library Bldg. and was walking down the slope towards the coffee shop. He had come up Westwood Blvd. and started to walk up the slope towards the Library Bldg. We met, unbelievably, in the middle of the slope. I was amazed that he got here so quickly. Leaving Bedford after midnight on Sunday, five days later he finds me on the campus. He explained that he never stopped to sleep. Hitchhiking day and night, his sleep time came only as he dozed off while riding in the cars and trucks. Frank explained why he left suddenly, without waiting for an answer to his telegram. He had a chance to ride with Fred Koteles all the way to Salt Lake City. After saying "goodbye" to his family and friends Frank walked three blocks to Zell's gas station where he was to be picked up. But when Fred showed up he told Frank that he could not take him. Fred's girl friend and her mother didn't want him to pick up another passenger. Frank said he didn't want to face his family and buddies in the morning so he had no choice but to start hitchhiking. Scared and desperate, he felt he had to leave. Taking my last two "finals" on Friday and Saturday, my second semester was over. My final grades were "B" in English Composition, "B" in History, and a "C" in Public Speaking. My grades for Art and Great Books were not yet available. The cafeteria closed on Friday. On Saturday June 13th. I cleared out my books and belongings from my locker and turned in my gym clothes. All three of us caddied at Lakeside on the weekend. This being our only source of income, it would be pretty tough sledding with no other jobs. On Monday, Frank and I went looking for work. We went to Douglas Aircraft, to a drug store chain, and to the movie studios for labor work. However, there were no prospects of getting on. When we returned home Henry showed us a telegram saying that Uncle and Emma had left and were driving to Los Angeles. I wrote home, telling Vito that Frank arrived safely Thursday and that he was sleeping with Henry and me. Sleeping three in one bed was the only option we had until Uncle arrived. Henry, for sure, would return home with his father. If I remain in Los Angeles Frank would stay with me. But if I went back with Uncle, Frank also would want to come back with us. We'll see what happens after Uncle arrives. For several days Frank and I hitchhiked all around the city. It got him acquainted with the main streets running North and South, and the main boulevards running East and West. Specifically, I told him to remember that east and west was divided by Main St. and that First St. divided north and south. I took Frank to see his cousin Tommy Nyerges who worked at a Pig and Whistle restaurant and then to see Lou Kerekes, a relative, who worked at a studio in Culver City. I also took Frank to Burbank to meet my two good friends, Bill and Millie Cook. He also met Jack, my Italian friend, who had a shoe repair shop only two blocks from our room in Sawtele. Uncle Attilio and Emma arrived Thursday afternoon, two days earlier than we expected. Uncle quickly resolved all our uncertainty when he told us he would leave early tomorrow morning and he could not take Frank. He planned to spend several days on "business", touring the vineyards and wineries and visit the World's Fair in San Francisco. He said three men in the back seat would not be comfortable for such a long trip. Uncle and Cousin Emma went to a motel a few blocks away. That evening I wrote a couple letters to local friends to let them know I was returning home. Also, I wrote to my brother Rudy who was home on a ten-day leave of absence. He had to report back to Newport, Rhode Island. On June 24th. I asked him to let me know if I could visit with him in Newport. As Henry and Frank slept, I sorted my things, and packed my suitcase. It was 3:00 AM before I could squeeze into bed. It was a painful departure to say "goodbye" to Frank and Mrs. Fernding. I assured both that I would be back in September and I told Frank to stick it out and wait for me. Frank was apprehensive and looked scared. He said he would stay a week or two but he was sure he had to hitchhike back to Bedford. For him, this would be a fork in the road. For me, I had to acknowledge a feeling of sadness and guilt because I was abandoning him. We started our trip north with Henry driving and his sister sitting next to him. They would alternate in the driving all the way to Cleveland. Sitting in the rear seat with Uncle, I had the most interesting and wonderful ride all the way home. Our talks and conversations, discussions and, and arguments were interrupted only by meals and sleep. We were open and frank in revealing our thoughts and feelings. Our most painful argument was in politics. He was a Republican and I was a New Deal Democrat who loved FDR. Like his three brothers, Uncle was a foreman on the railroad but he abandoned that career and became a self-made businessman. He founded The Pompei Winery in 1917. It was right behind his home at 3994 East 89th Street. A block from the winery, he also founded Pompei Coal and Builders Supply. A shrewd businessman with a dominant personality, Uncle Attilio got the respect that he demanded. At our first stop, in Stockton, Uncle wanted to look up a former friend, Angelo Columbro, who used to buy grapes for him twenty years ago. We had a hard time finding him, but once we did, I found him to be quite a character. He cooked up a fine Italian dinner and the next day he took us from winery to winery. It was obvious that he really enjoyed the opportunity to entertain us. Uncle revealed, later, that when he knew Mr. Columbro in Cleveland, in 1924, he was married to a colored woman and had three children. In a letter home, referring to Mr. Columbro, I wrote, "He is 60 years old and acts like a college kid". Our trip home took nine full days. We slept in cabins every evening and we took time for sightseeing and for visiting people. We spent two days inspecting the wineries and two days at the San Francisco Fair and in the Oakland Bay Bridge area. At Fisherman's Wharf we ate in Joe DiMaggio's restaurant. We drove alongside the Great Salt Lake and in the city we went through The Tabernacle in Mormon's Square. In visiting Yellowstone National Park I saw the most magnificent sights and the most beautiful scenery. In Chicago we spent a day visiting with Uncle's paesani friends. It was midnight when we arrived at my Uncle's home in Cleveland. The next morning, Sunday June 25, Henry drove me six more miles, completing my second trip to Bedford without any hitchhiking. Hugo P. Cipriani |
