High Water: A Memoir

By Richard Spitz

Richard and his two best friendsEd and Bobhad it all figured out when they left their homes in Kennebunkport, Maine, for the warmer climes of Daytona Beach, Florida.

The high schoolers had realized that their parents knew nothing. They could surely make their own decisions.

In High Water, Spitz recalls that fateful trip in the 1950s, when gasoline was seventeen cents a gallon, good hamburgers were a quarter, and segregation was commonplace. While he enjoyed many adventures, the boys eventually returned home.

Spitzs father, however, had not changed, and without warning, hed often yell and hit his wife. Spitzs mother reacted as though it were all part of the routine.

Desperate for money and with no allowance after having run away, Spitz and his friends hit upon a creative way to earn cash: Theyd kill deer and sell carcasses to men who had pretended to go hunting but were really fooling around on their wives or playing cards and couldnt return home empty handed.

Spitz looks back at a time long gone, sharing life lessons in this coming-of-age story that made him the man he is today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781532008313

Richard Spitz

Richard Spitz believes that what you expect from life is not what you get. You have to live it to know it. The author has had more than his share of living and events. He currently lives in Port Orange, Florida.

Book preview

FREEDOM

I believe it was a Peanuts cartoon strip that Snoopy said,  …it was a cold and dark night. That perfectly described the night Ed, Bob and I left Kennebunkport, Maine for the warmer climes of Daytona Beach, Florida.

We had come to the realization that our parents knew nothing and were not capable of raising us. We were sure we could override all of the mistakes they had made attempting to bring us up by going out on our own and making our own decisions.

We met at the high school at about 4 a.m. on a very cold October day. I am sure each one of us in his own mind thought the other would chicken out and stay in a warm bed. All of us were surprised that the carefully hatched plan was going to go forward that morning. Snow had already fallen and it crunched under our feet as we loaded our belongings and hunting rifles into the car.

Our transportation was an ancient old 1937 Ford that belonged to Bob. It sounded good, as Bob had just rebuilt the engine. It became a faithful companion for the entire trip. Oddly enough when we returned home and Bob parked it in his driveway it would never start again. It was as if the car knew the great adventure was over and it could take a well-deserved rest.

Our bankroll was about $150.00 for the three of us, so we knew we would not be eating steak and lobster on the way down. It had to be stretched for the whole distance. We were careful to spend only small portions for gas and food. Gasoline in the 1950’s was .17 a gallon. Good hamburgers were .25. We hoped it would be enough to get us to Florida.

Our first day of travel was uneventful with two exceptions. We stopped at noon and got an inexpensive cup of chili for each of us. When we got back on the road as cold as it was the windows stayed open. The chili with beans had done its work. It was bad enough that if someone had lit a match in the car, we probably would have been the first men on the moon.

Somewhere around 9:00 p.m. we arrived in New Jersey, totally exhausted. Bob suggested we spend the night at an old abandoned service station located in a triangle along two merging roads. It was not long before all of us were sound asleep.

A few hours later we were awakened by a voice on a megaphone and a profusion of bright flashing lights. The command was, Come out with your hands in the air.

We got out of the car and presented identification. We were soon released. Some passerby had seen our hunting rifles on the rear shelf and contacted the troopers. The troopers thought we were part of a gang. The troopers found us amusing when they saw how scared we were. They laughed and said we could sleep right where we were and they would check on us through the night.

Our trip resumed in the morning. Three hungry teenagers consuming a few hamburgers and a couple of tanks of gas made us cautious with our money. We stopped at a couple of church soup kitchens to stretch it further.

We managed to make it to Georgia by noon. Hunger pangs soon called us to stop at a small restaurant in a rural town. We did not think much of it as we stopped, but we were about to make a big mistake that could have cost us our lives.

Ed and I went into the restaurant and sat in the only available seats, next to a very drunk Chief of Police. Bob had gone to get gasoline.

The Chief asked us where we were from and upon finding out we were from Maine began to berate the Yankees. He was sure we were bums and broke and demanded to know how much money we had. He told us he did not like broke bums in his town and we would be going to his office as soon as he finished his beer. He told us if we did not have $75.00, he would charge us with vagrancy and we would serve some time.

Ed said he needed to pee. The Chief pointed him to the men’s room and told him to hurry up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bob park the car parallel to the curb in front of the restaurant. There was no way I could signal Bob to stay out of the place. The Chief was on a roll now. He was now performing for the other patrons and feeding on their laughter as we were berated. Bob quickly caught on and returned to the car as the Chief started a loud tirade about the Civil War and why the south should have won. Bob sat patiently behind the wheel observing the unruly police chief.

Ed still had not returned from the men’s room and the Chief was getting antsy. The show needed to go on and Ed needed to fill out the cast of characters to spice up the Chief’s act. It also became apparent to me that the audience did not care much for Yankees either. The Chiefs derogatory comments were met with applause and laughter and the natives were getting restless. The Chief started towards the men’s room to check on Ed. As soon as he was halfway there I made my move and darted for the door.

I got to the car just as the drunken Chief pulled his gun and promptly tripped over his own two feet falling to the floor. Boss Hogg had nothing on this guy. Ed miraculously appeared from behind the building having escaped from the bathroom window. The Chief was yelling for the townies to run and stop us. They obeyed the command and I was sure we had lost this one. As a solid wall of people came at us a few suddenly stopped and yelled, Run, they are armed. The wall broke and Bob sped out of town.

We got to Daytona that day after three days on the road. After a hearty meal of cumquats stolen from a farmer’s field and pieces of bread borrowed from a delivery truck, we settled down again to sleep in the car.

The next day we tried to find work. There just wasn’t any for three young kids who were just not very presentable in any respect. We tried to wash up a number of times at the service stations where we stopped but were quickly chased away by attendants.

Sleeping in the car was getting old. We looked for a place to