Huron College, What If I’d…
Composite, time, words, and me
Huron College was my home town’s institution of higher education. The campus was large, well manicured, with Ivy League like buildings and located close to downtown. I say “large” because by my 1950’s standards…Huron only had about 14,000 people…large was not Manhattan large. When I was growing up, the campus exuded learning and class. The student body was never large, a few hundred at most, but the school had a good reputation for academics and sports. And, as a little kid, the majesty of the buildings was intriguing. Laying in bed last night, I went down the rabbit hole of “What if…”
I’m not sure I was tuned into college as a teenager. As a baby boomer, I was used to the “I Like Ike” slogans and economic growth of the times. I was sheltered from racism, politics, and most forms of hate. In the 9th grade, I started playing in a Garage Band, “The Bird Dogs,” and music became my life. Well, music and girls. My parents hadn’t gone to college. My mom didn’t work when I was growing up. My dad had done quite well without a college degree, he was General Manager of Armour & Company meat packing, the town’s largest employer. So college wasn’t a thing on my mind. My parents looked at it differently, they insisted I take the ACT or SAT or whatever it was and so I did. What did I think I’d do with my life?!
When I was 17 years old, the Bird Dogs won a multi-state Battle of the Bands and subsequently interviewed by the local newspaper, “The Daily Plainsman.” One of the questions they asked each of us was, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I thought for less than a nanosecond and replied, “An architect.” What the hell was I thinking? I didn’t want to be an architect but was intrigued by architecture, after all, I’d visited San Diego, Minneapolis, and Los Angeles and their buildings were truly grand. I thought, how cool would it be to actually design such things. But, what the hell! No, for me it was back to girls and music. I did not know what I wanted to do, except to continue playing with the Bird Dogs. However, comma, a war was on and the draft was a real thing. A horrifying thing. Graduate from high school, get drafted or go to college. So college was in my future. At least I’d be older when I went to war.
My girlfriend was a year younger and wanted to be a journalist. She’d picked South Dakota State University since they had a great Journalism program and so I picked it, too. Off I went. Alone. Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) was a MANDATORY thing for males for the first two years at a state school. I joined because I had to join. At the end of my sophomore year I signed up for advanced ROTC and a scholarship that committed me to two more years in ROTC and at least four years of active duty as an Air Force officer. Keep in mind, I had never been in any kind of airplane. None. Nada. Never. But…Americans were getting killed everyday in Vietnam and the draft…it was alive and well. I did not want to join the Army, so, the Air Force it was. I’d waited and waited to commit, there was talk of a Draft Lottery where you’d know your odds of getting called up. But alas, I had to commit or lose my scholarship and slot in the ROTC class. The lottery was held a short time after I’d signed, my number was 274. I would not have been called. So what if I’d stayed in Huron and gone to Huron College… Playing the “What If” game in my head… The Bird Dogs would have fizzled out. Buns, the drummer, was the only then current member that went to college. The others were in the wind. Canada. Alaska. Wherever. It would have been just me trying to figure life out.
During my high school years I looked up to three men and probably would have tried to emulate them in lifestyles and professions in my adult life. They were Joe Stahl, Ken Larson, and Bob Callahan. Joe worked at Armour’s for my dad so as much as I admired him, I could never work in a place where my dad and I co-existed. I admired Ken a lot but didn’t have the skill and knowledge he had working with his hands and doubted I ever would. That left Bob Callahan, my teacher and acting coach in high school. He and I connected and I think I would have followed him into the teaching profession. And, I would have been happy because, well, because, I enjoy teaching and I wouldn’t know the difference. But my current life did happen. I have three kids, one grandchild, and am very happy. Very. But, I still have that vision of Huron College, Voorhees Hall.
From my 1967 graduating class, we lost two classmates in Vietnam, Roger Porter and Dick Plate. The draft was a real thing. Huron College closed many years ago. All gone.