All through High School, in the late 1950’s, I had played football and wrestled competitively. My dream was to go to college and then come back to my high school and coach the football team. Those dreams went by the wayside during my first year at college.
My dad was a sheet metal worker and, most of the time, worked outside in the elements. The economy that year was horrible, along with a terribly cold and wet winter. Being a sheet metal man, dad was unable to work much that year and my family had not saved money for college education like parents do today. In those days when you had your high school diploma, you were considered well set on finding a good job that you stayed at for the rest of your life.
While in high school, every Friday night, a sock hop was held at the YMCA in the west part of the town and it drew students from all over the city. There were usually eight to ten police officers working off-duty to keep everyone in line. This was before drugs hit the scene. In those days, every once in a while, one of the kids would get intoxicated on 3.2% beer before coming to the dance. When they got out of line, it would be brought to one of the officer’s attention and the officer would take some action. Unless the kid really got unruly, the officer would escort him home; if not, they would send him downtown to the juvenile facility. I