The Euclid Avenue Express

By William Young

Cole Webster, a young man from Texas in 1951, has visions of a business career, but is financially unable to get a formal education to succeed in the field. He enlists in the air force to earn GI Bill benefits.
After basic training and military schooling, Cole is assigned to a reserve training center in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Cole meets USO hostess Laura Miller at a gala event sponsored by the Schlitz Brewery. She is a widow whose husband was killed in the Korean War. Cole falls in love with Laura immediately as they danced.
Their love blossoms, and they have several sexual encounters.
Cole and Laura marry, but a tragedy occurs, and Cole is distraught, unable to recover for the next year.
He finally meets Ilona Masters at a house party, and slowly falls in love with her.
They make a trip to Texas, where their love is consummated, and Cole finally finds the love he needs to fill the void that Laura left in him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514452721

William Young

William Young can fly helicopters and airplanes, drive automobiles, steer boats, rollerblade, water ski, snowboard, and ride a bicycle. His career as a newspaper reporter spanned more than a decade at five different newspapers. He has also worked as a golf caddy, flipped burgers at a fast food chain, stocked grocery store shelves, sold ski equipment, worked at a funeral home, unloaded trucks for a department store and worked as a uniformed security guard. He lives in a small post-industrial town along the Schuylkill River in Pennsylvania with his wife and three children.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

THE ’38 CHEVROLET rumbled down Highway 87 that Saturday night in 1942. It was a very rough, graveled, corduroy road that sometimes flooded when it rained. Cole and his brother and sisters in the backseat were excited to go to the Saturday night picture show. All were dressed in their best outfits, excited to go into town. Little entertainment was available in the farm life they lived, so it was great fun to go to the movies and see Gene Autry in South of the Border. Cole had just turned eleven years of age in March and was at a pivoting point in his life between childhood and teens, very awkward years. He and the family were still settling in to their new lives in Orange, Texas, in the Little Cypress Community and its elementary school. Cole managed to skip the fourth grade because of his academic standing, but the homework was multiplied in the fifth grade, which covered two years. Studying near a coal oil lamp was hot and difficult, but the effort proved successful, and he was recognized as the smartest boy in the eighth grade graduating class. Cole had a secluded life on the farm and was rarely around those of his own age. He had much to learn later in life.

The Strand Theater parking lot was filled to capacity, so John, Cole’s dad, was forced to park on the street. The parking meters did not require coins after six o’clock. The children often attended separate theaters because their interests were different than that of their parents but agreed to return to the car when their movie ended and wait there until everyone returned. This arrangement seemed to work fine. The small town of Orange was safe, in spite of the overflow crowd that poured into the city to build ships for the war effort. The war raged on in 1942, and there were many sailors stationed at the military base near the downtown area. The sailors and migrant workers who poured into the city caused quite a crowd at the Strand, Bengal, Gem, and Royal theaters.

Cole walked up to the ticket booth at the Bengal Theater, laid down his dime for the lady in the booth, and said One child, please. Admission was only nine cents for kids under twelve, so he got one cent back to spend on a piece of candy. An usher tore the ticket in half, dropped one half in a canister, and gave the other half to Cole. He never understood the value of this procedure, as his half was always discarded in the wastepaper basket. Red curtains concealed the small entryway to the theater, so he parted them and entered the darkness. It was like entering a magic place, very dark and mysterious. It was difficult finding an empty seat in the dark, but occasionally, an usher with a flashlight assisted. That night, Cole sat next to a school friend, James Murphy.

Hi, James. Is this your first time to see the show?

No, I came in at the middle, so I’ll be here a while.

James lived in the Echo Community and was an A student who helped me with some complex math problems in Mrs. Kelly’s class. They sat hypnotized through the entire show until the cowboy rode off into the sunset on his horse, Champion. The lights came on at intermission, and they exited the theater together. It was a short walk down Fifth Street to the car.

I’ll see you on Monday! James yelled as he approached his car.

Cole loved the movies so much that he considered becoming a projectionist in later life, but the job possibilities were very limited, and eventually he gave up the idea.

It was approaching ten o’clock when everyone returned to the car. It had been a long day, and eyelids were getting heavy. The trip home did not seem as long as it did going into town. In about twenty minutes, John made a right turn down the long lane that led to the big white house at its end, to the place they called home. The lane was a simple rutted dirt trail in which one could get stuck in rainy weather.

John drove up to the front gate and stopped. Okay kids, we’re home. Cole, wake up your brother and sisters. They slowly jumped from the car and stumbled into the house and fell into bed, contented to be entertained one more time by their hero, Gene Autry.

CHAPTER 2

THE OLD HOMESTEAD, along with its eighty acres of land, was rented from Captain John Ericson. The captain and his wife were Swedish and spoke with a slight accent but were very nice. They only visited two or three times over the years, just to confirm their investment was in good order. The only restriction for living on the farm was that the magnolia trees could not be cut for firewood. This was a strange request because there were few magnolia trees on the acreage, but plenty of oaks and pine. It was thought the captain would retire here when his seafaring days were over. He worked for a major barge company that ferried various products from Texas to many ports around the world. He was at sea for long periods. Hurricanes frequently occur in the Gulf region, and shipping can be hazardous if warnings are not heeded. Information about the threatening storm in 1943 was censored by the government to ensure that Japan or Germany would not gain a military advantage by knowing the damage done to the shipbuilding industry. The winds in the storm increased to 120 miles per hour. The captain somehow lost radio contact with the Coast Guard and was assumed to be lost at sea. He was never heard from him again.

Nothing but love abounded in the old house. There was no electricity, running water, phones, or any modern convenience available in rural areas. It was very remote, with no neighbors within a half mile. Cole had a love-hate relationship with the place. He loved the three meals a day and a roof over his head, but little else. Work on the farm was unending for a young lad, and in addition to that, Cole had few farm skills to make it easier, having lived in the city since birth. Summer was quickly coming to a close, and a fall chill filled the air. This signaled that time had come to build up the wood supply for winter, which meant cutting three-foot logs for the fireplace and shorter logs for the cookstove.

Tom, I’ll get the crosscut saw and we’ll get the job done. I hope we can find an ash or pin oak, they’re easier to saw.

Cole remembered seeing some desirable trees while walking through the woods earlier in the week, so the problem was solved quickly. The crosscut saw normally required two good-sized boys or men to use it, but Cole and Tom managed to fell the fifty-foot ash with a crash and trim the unwanted branches from the trunk. The ash is a soft wood with far fewer limbs than an oak, so the job was easier. In a few hours, the sawing job was finished and the logs carefully arranged on the wooden sled Daddy made from some used lumber stored behind the barn. Old Dobbin pulled the sled to the house, and the wood was unloaded and stacked neatly with the other logs. The fireplace in the living room was the only source of heat in the house, and it was very inefficient because of design flaws. On cold mornings, Cole would jump out of bed and scurry to the fireplace to warm his backside while donning warm clothes.

The Christmas season was approaching, and the tree was customarily placed in the far corner of the living room, away from the fireplace. It was the family custom to celebrate Christmas in the traditional way, but in 1943, there was no Christmas. War was raging in Europe and the Pacific, casting a shadow over the life of every family in the nation. While squirrel hunting in the woods a few weeks back, Cole found a beautifully shaped long-needle pine, which he carefully sawed down. Tom, Anne, Ruth, and Cole decorated it with the usual fare, but the tree stood lonely in the corner of the big living room without a single gift beneath. Holly branches with bright red berries adorned the mantle and tabletops. But the spirit was gone. The older generation did not recognize the importance of this holiday to children, and it was never explained to them. There was a thick gloominess among the adults that could almost be felt. Nineteen forty-three was truly an unforgettable Christmas season.

During the war years, most food was rationed, forcing many families to raise victory gardens of their own. There were few exceptions. Cole was forced to learn the techniques of plowing, hoeing, cultivating, and harvesting at the age of twelve. Some community families who did not have gardens came to buy produce, but nothing was sold, only donated to them. The bins in the barn held freshly dug sweet potatoes, where they could be kept dry and age and sweeten, and where dried corn on the cob could be stored and later shelled by hand to feed the animals. The most enjoyable part of harvesting was gathering and storing dried peanuts still attached to their vines in the loft of the barn. When the winter weather became cold and rainy, Cole and the Webster children would climb up the rickety wooden ladder to the loft and carefully maneuver across the board floor to a huge pile of vines loaded with the delicious little morsels. The barn was also a haven for very large rats, who liked peanuts as much as they did and were paid little attention.

John received a notice in early 1945 from Captain Ericson’s family that the farm was going to be sold. The family no longer had a need for it after the death of the captain, so Dad began a search for a new home. He quickly found a place closer to town with all utilities but no farming acreage. Cole thought it would be wonderful to have an electric light to study by, and he certainly did not mind losing all the work required at the old farm. However, fond memories still hung on of the old white house at the end of the lane.

CHAPTER 3

COLE ALWAYS LOVED music, but the only music played on the radio was current popular hits, big band and country tunes. A grand piano sat on the stage of the gymnasium at school, which a few students played on rainy days when going outside was not feasible. Sally Norris could play very well, and many would stand around the piano and listen. But Cole had no talent in this area. He was too poor to afford a musical instrument but enjoyed acapella singing with members of the family.

Cole’s sister Annie introduced him to serious music while working at a local store. The record department there was large and filled with popular hits of the day and albums of classical music. Annie was allowed to play recordings during working hours to attract customers. Cole dropped by the store for a brief visit one day on his way home.

Cole, I want you to hear this piece of music I ran across. It is beautiful.

She placed the twelve-inch 78 rpm disc on the turntable, and the most beautiful music Cole had ever heard poured forth from the speaker. The composition was Tchaikovsky’s first piano concerto by the Philadelphia Philharmonic, Ormandy conducting and Oscar Levant on the piano. He was speechless. His ears had never heard such fantastic sounds. He had experimentally listened to several types of music over the years, but none satisfied his hunger as this did. Cole collected and wore out a few recordings over the years, but never lost the love of serious music.

CHAPTER 4

COLE WAS NOW fourteen, one of ten children in the family, six older and three younger. The coming years would bring many changes in his life, as well as the other nine. President Truman ordered the dropping of the atomic bombs on Japan. The Germans had previously surrendered in Europe, and Japan followed shortly thereafter when two devastating atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Vera Lynn’s popular 1942 song The White Cliffs of Dover had finally come to fruition. There’ll be love and laughter, and peace ever after, tomorrow, just you wait and see. Tomorrow had finally arrived. People celebrated in the streets, from Times Square to the Golden Gate. The men in uniform began returning home to their wives, families, and sweethearts. Prosperity reigned mightily, and many marriages were performed for those lovers who had postponed the event for nearly five years.

Cole was now a sophomore at Stark High, getting a taste of higher learning than previously experienced at Little Cypress. In addition to the new curriculum, he was given the part of Father March in Little Women, a play performed by the drama department. It was his first exposure to stage acting, and it turned out to be fun. No other acting opportunities occurred before graduating in 1949. Cole’s overall opinion of high school in general was that the student body was made up of too many private cliques, which few could become part of, and the students were too snobbish. However, he did have several excellent teachers. It didn’t matter now. Those days were gone.

Graduation day came at the early age of seventeen. Cole had an academic standing of number 68 out of 245 students. Finding a job was difficult before reaching the age of eighteen, the minimum age set by most employers. Several store stocking clerk positions became available with minimum pay to tide him over to his birthday. He had decided to enter the business field, but knew his opportunities were limited without a college degree. Having little money for tuition, Cole decided to enlist in the Air Force in 1951 and go to school later on the GI Bill after enlistment was up. This was the first major decision he ever made in his life at the ripe old age of nineteen, but many more were to follow.

CHAPTER 5

SERGEANT DAVID FORD at the air force recruiting office was well skilled in the recruiting process and moved the enlistees through the process quickly. A few documents were required to substantiate birth, age, and citizenship, and several written tests were given to determine IQ and aptitude. Cole exceled in the areas of finance and general office qualification. The group was taken to Houston for physical examinations the following day. Cole passed, but a few failed. The following week, the enlistees were sworn in as basic airmen. They were then promptly loaded on a Southern Pacific train destined for Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio for indoctrination and basic training. The temperature there hovered around one hundred degrees and had a big effect on those men coming from the North. The squadron training instructor shouted Fall in, and the recruits marched in their civilian clothes to the barracks that they would call home for the next two months. Each man was allowed to bring one small shaving kit and the clothes on his back. The air force supply department issued fatigues, brogans, oxford shirts, shoes, khakis, and two sets of blue wool dress uniforms shortly upon arrival.

The eight weeks of intensive training would pass very quickly. It involved a lot of marching commands, weapon usage, parachuting, saluting, and other military procedures. Cole’s squadron earned the base flag for being the best marching squadron. This was considered a great accomplishment, and the flag waved proudly in front of the unit as they marched. The squadron was also given the privilege of ice cream at Frosty Fred’s. Graduation day finally arrived, when the training instructor became their friend rather than an enemy. Each man in the squadron received orders for promotion from airmen basic to airmen third class. It was a good feeling of recognition and accomplishment. The small sewing kits issued to each man were put to use. Each airman sewed his one-stripe insignia to the arms of fatigues, khakis, and dress blues for all to see.

Typed orders came pouring in from headquarters, sending the squadron airmen to various duty destinations. Most of them were assigned to a military school in their own specialized field. Cole was sent to Lowry Air Force Base near Denver, Colorado, to attend finance school. The Mile-High City was wonderful. A beautiful view of the Rocky Mountains could be seen at the main gate of the base. Cole had never seen such splendor and majesty before in Texas.

Finance school classes began on Monday. The core classroom objective was learning military pay methods and procedures essential for paying the personnel when finally assigned to a permanent location. In six weeks, the schooling was completed, and Cole earned another stripe to airman second class.

Once again, each member of the graduating class received orders to go to various places for permanent assignments. A new base had recently opened in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, at General Mitchell Field, and Cole was assigned there. It was not a typical air force base and had very few personnel. The finance department’s primary duty there was paying reservists over a six-state area of the Midwest upon completion of their monthly training. The living facilities were in a converted hangar at the field, but it was comfortable. The only bad thing about the assignment was having to pull kitchen police (KP) duty frequently in the mess hall. A small desk sat near Cole’s bunk, holding a pen and stationery in the lap drawer. It was convenient for writing letters home to parents and large enough for his small record player to rest on one end.

CHAPTER 6

THERE WERE MANY interesting stories told by work associates while seated on the edge of their bunks at night and smoking cigarettes before retiring. There were too many to mention all of them. Each of the fellows would recount his own individual twisted experiences, some interesting, some dull, and some funny. The airmen in Cole’s group hailed from various states, ranging from West Virginia to Washington State and various points between. But men are the same, no matter where they hail from.

Other than the subject of women and conquests made with them, the subject most frequently discussed was What was your reason for joining the air force? The most common response was To avoid being drafted into the army. But there were several who had joined to escape problems at home. The first response was reasonable, but the second did not sound logical to Cole. What would cause anyone to run from a problem? The problem would worsen and become more severe after a four year tour of duty. Ernie Jeffers from Illinois was one who tried the escapist approach. His marriage was filled with problems at home, and in-laws threw more fuel on the fire. Ernie couldn’t take it anymore and walked away.

Another reason given by a few fellows involved having pregnant girlfriends and no desire to marry them. Occasionally, Cole would find someone who joined up for future college benefits as he did, but not often.

While working in the finance office on Monday morning the phone rang with a shocking message. A friend from Personnel, Vic Wagner, spoke softly into the mouthpiece, MPs found the body of Ernie Jeffers in the maintenance hangar this morning, behind a C-119 engine being repaired. There were no obvious reasons for his death. A heart attack was unlikely, having had regular physical exams. He was absent from roll call, and everyone was looking for him. Cole commented, He must have died sometime over the weekend, because I spoke to him on Friday. His wife was scheduled to come in for the weekend, and they had hopes of resolving some of their family problems. The cause of Ernie’s death was withheld pending further investigation.

Cole’s thoughts quickly turned to an earlier conversation concerning his family problems and wondered if there was a connection. Ernie had a great personality and was well liked by the other airmen who knew him. The adjutant general would shortly be conferring with everyone to gather facts associated with the case. Cole decided to call the AG and volunteer information about his family problems. He took the information and thanked him for calling.

Three days passed with no information concerning Ernie’s death, including its cause. The local newspapers were filled with the incident, but void of many facts in the case. The subject prevailed among the men during the day as they performed their work assignments and at night around their bunks. Many thoughts and ideas were put forth, but no one had real proof or strong suspicion.

Ernie’s wife, Jessica, had flown in from Southern Illinois for a few days’ visit in an attempt to reconcile some of their marriage problems. She was booked at the Holiday Inn—and paid by the military under these circumstances—while his body lay in the morgue. The body could not be released for burial until an autopsy was performed to arrive at the cause of death. None of the airmen had ever met Jessica and felt it would be appropriate to drop by the motel and offer condolences. Cole asked three close work associates—Jerry, Rod, and Harold—to go with him. The four of them hopped the Howell Avenue streetcar and exited near Humboldt Park near the motel.

The men were surprised when the door of room 113 opened and loud music pelted their ears from within. A bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey and six bottles of Schlitz beer sat on the table near the bed. The woman inside seemed to be celebrating or maybe feeling a great grief. The men soon learned it was a celebration.

Come on in, boys. Have a drink with me. I’m Jessica Jeffers, here on a mission. Old Ernie finally bit the dust, and I am now a free lady. Anybody care to dance?

The men were taken aback. It was now clear to them why Ernie had enlisted: he had to get away from this crazy lady.

He left me with no babies and very few good memories, she muttered, stumbling across the room with a glass of whiskey in her hand. And he would not buy me a new dress to wear to the annual company ball either. He said he loved me, but he didn’t. My momma told me not to trust any man—they’re no good, she said. So here I am with nothing but his insurance money. Ain’t that a hoot? By this time, Jessica’s speech was becoming slurred and incoherent.

What could be said to someone in this state of mind? The less said, the better. Jessica, we are sorry you feel that way, but your husband was a good man. We wish you the best in the future without Ernie and hope you can find the Mr. Right that meets all your expectations. Should you need anything that we can help with, please call 247-4100. This is a pay phone in our building.