“If I’m playing bridge and a
naked woman walks by, I don’t even see her, but don’t test me on that.” Warren
Buffet
Before
diamond life master Joe Chin gave a bridge lesson in Steve McShane’s class,
student Michal Schoon interviewed him.
As it has been all summer, the Archives was frigid, so I asked Joe if he
needed a sweater. “Coming from Manilla, I’m warm-blooded,” he replied, flashing an
infectious smile. IUN Media Communication specialist Erika Rosa took photos of
them in the Ronald D. Cohen Room, McShane’s former office. After Joe told me
that he left the Philippines for America in 1970, I asked if he’d heard of
former Lake County Sheriff Ray Dominguez’s father-in-law Panciano Olayta, a
survivor of the Bataan Death March, who had served in the Philippine military
during World War II as part of U.S. Allied forces. He hadn’t.
The Olayta family moved from Manila to Gary in 1967. Wife Rosalina was a
Methodist Hospital pharmacist. Panciano Alayta worked in the Richard Hatcher
administration as a Gary MANPOWER planner.
This is how Dominguez described him:
He had five martial arts black belts and
was the most universal man I had ever met.
He had written books on yoga and played a half-dozen musical
instruments, from the violin to the drums, in a professional manner. With his shaved head, he looked like actor
Yul Brynner, in “The King and I.”
photos by Erika Rose
A
veteran teacher, both at Gary West Side and IUN, Joe Chin was relaxed, witty,
and informative. He started by writing “Remember, bridge is not a matter of life or
death” on the board and gave a rudimentary description of bidding and the
relative value of suits, from 1 Club up to 7 No-Trump. He said that Bill Gates claimed bridge to be
one of the last games where people can beat a computer and that he wouldn’t
mind being in a jail cell if with three bridge players. Concerning the almost
infinite possibilities of hands, Joe wrote 635,013,559 on the board and then
added three more numbers (600) to bring the total to over 635 billion. Several students prefaced questions with, “this may sound stupid,” eliciting Joe’s
retort that there are no stupid questions.
At
Chesterton Y Dee Van Bebber and I finished fourth out of 11 couples to earn .39
of a master point. Knowing my interest
in high school basketball, Jim Carson loaned me “The White Painted Circle:
Northwest Indiana Inner City High School Basketball, 1957-1975” by Rick Martich
and Craig Gertes. Thanks to colleague
Paul Kern, I first became a big Gary Emerson fan in 1974-75, the year the Emerson
Golden Tornado reached the Lafayette Semi-State. Much to me chagrin, the book only contained
an oblique reference about Emerson’s “one
final moment” of glory in 1975 – a misleading statement in view of the
great Emerson teams of 1976-78, coached by Earl Smith, Jr., and featuring the
twin towers of Wallace Bryant and Frank Smith.
In the
opener of the 1975 Gary Regional, Emerson defeated Merrillville (despite Cary
Carrabine’s 31 points), while number 1 ranked Hammond High, led by Rich
Valavicius, squeaked by East Chicago Washington in double overtime. In the nightcap, guard Emmett Lewis had to
leave the game with leg cramps but returned and scored the winning basket with
six seconds to go to make the final score 72-71. When teammate Earner Calhoun Mays missed a
shot, Lewis out-hustled Valavicius for the rebound; he finished with 28 points.
The following Monday, I ran into him near Emerson, and he looked like he’d been
beaten up. Against Lafayette Jefferson the following week, Emmitt Lewis got
into early foul trouble on very questionable calls and eventually fouled out in
a 71-69 loss. Lewis went on to have a
stellar career at the University of Colorado and was drafted by the Denver
Nuggets. Barely six feet tall, he was the fiercest competitor I ever witnessed.
Reading
my post, Paul Kern responded: “Emmett Lewis was one of my all-time
favorite players. I remember his winning shot against Hammond High like it was
yesterday. Rich Valavicius was a bust at IU and soon transferred, I think to
Auburn.” Indeed, Valavicius transferred to Auburn
after enduring abuse from fiery IU coach Bobby Knight. Years later, he told a reporter: “I didn't know what he wanted. He
was yelling, screaming and cussing all the time. I wanted to do all the things
he wanted, but I was thinking instead of reacting.”
Bridge
player Sylvia Luekens was wearing an “Indians” blouse and, a Valpo resident,
made a face when I asked if it stood for Portage H.S. She and husband Tom are Cleveland natives and
planned to attend the Indians-White Sox game the following evening at Comisky. When I said that the Indians were having a
pretty good year, she replied, “Pretty
good? They’ve won 13 straight.” In
the mid-Fifties Paul Turk’s dad took my best friend and me to Cleveland’s
gigantic Municipal Stadium (seating capacity 78,000). I saw Hall of Famer Bob
Feller pitch at the tail end of his career and got an autograph from Mexican
hurler Mike Garcia. When I told the
story to the Tom and Sylvia, they simultaneously blurted out Garcia’s nickname:
“Big Bear.” After the game, we couldn’t
find Mr. Turk’s car in the Municipal Stadium’s mammoth parking lot for what
seemed like hour.
Charles Halberstadt and daughter
At Jef
Halberstadt’s, Shelley Maupin taught me a board game reminiscent of Password
while Shelley’s son Logan was on an iPad. I won a version of Ticket to Ride against Jef,
Tom Wade, and Charles Halberstadt that involved stock buying and featured a map
of Pennsylvania. I looked in vain for
Easton (my birthplace) and Lewisburg (where I attended Bucknell) but noticed
two towns I’d never heard of, Tawanda and Coudersport. When I waved goodbye to Charles Halberstadt’s daughter
Anna, she blew me a kiss. Nice.
faro game in Arizona saloon,1895
In “Cattle
Kingdom: The Hidden History of the Cowboy West” Christopher Knowlton mentioned
that until poker caught on, the main game of chance in saloons was faro. It was easy to learn and several players played
against the dealer. An early version of poker used a 20-card deck with no cards
below ten. “Cowboy Kingdom” opens with the devastating slaughter of the buffalo
and concludes with the Johnson County War between Wyoming Stock Growers
Association (WSGA) thugs and settlers accused, falsely for the most part, of
cattle rustling. In 1892, President
Benjamin Harrison sent troops to Wyoming to rescue the WSGA’s hired killers. Owen Wister’s “The Virginian” (1902) took the
ranchers’ point of view while Jack Schaefer’s “Shane” (1949) sided with settlers
engaged in farming or sheep herding.
Traces magazine will publish my article
on Reverend L.K. Jackson in its Fall issue.
Chancellor Lowe’s assistant Kathy Malone, longtime member of St. Paul
Baptist Church, provided me with photos and information about Jackson’s
family. I recall interviewing the Gary
civil rights pioneer at his home, being too timid to have him turn off the TV,
and noticing a large closet containing hundreds of hats. I knew beforehand about his participation in
efforts to desegregate Marquette Park but that was just the tip of the iceberg so
far as his activism went. At a 1973
retirement banquet, Mayor Richard Hatcher declared that Jackson would “always be remembered in Gary for your
never-ending battles against discrimination and racial injustice in this city.
Your face silhouetted against the night as your church burned years ago will
never be forgotten as never will your determination to let the then black-balled
Paul Robeson speak in St. Paul Baptist Church. You have come a long way, L. K.
Jackson for your belief in what’s right and you have come with your head
unbowed.”
At
Hobart Lanes I rolled a 497, more than 100 pins better than week one, thanks in
part to four straight strikes and also a three-bagger. The ball was breaking
more than normal, helping me (I tend to get more strikes from the Brooklyn
side) and teammate Dick Maloney (who finished with a 502), while seeming to
hurt opponents Denny Cavanaugh and Mikey Wardell. The latter brought delicious brownies for all
to share. Cavanaugh saw me quoted in a Times Labor Day article about unions
fighting for worker wages, health, and safety as well as fair trade and
protecting the environment. I was
pleased that reporter Joseph Pete at my suggestion interviewed retired
steelworker Mike Olszanski, who told him:
The
State of Indiana has gone from nearly 41 percent union membership in 1964, to
less than 11 percent today – in large part due to the elimination of jobs in
basic manufacturing especially in basic steel. In Northwest Indiana, it has
been the enormous increases in productivity, resulting in enormous job loss in
steel, that is largely responsible for the decline in union membership. In the
Region, workers are not choosing to work non-union – they have been laid off
from union shops in large numbers.
Mike Olszanski
That's actually Jerry Lewis in the picture above, younger brother of Emmett Lewis who passed just yesterday I learned, 2/28/2021 RIP
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