Gridiron Diplomat
By Tom Kelly
Published by Organized Thoughts Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 Thomas W. Kelly
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Table
of Content
Credits …………………………………………………...........
Forward: The Legacy: “Shrink the Planet”…..…..…….…...
Chronicle I: China ..………………………………………......
Chronicle II: Moscow ………………………………......…….
Chronicle III: Romania …………………..............................
Chronicle IV: Hungary ………………..................................
Back to the USSR ……………............................................
Chronicle V: Azerbaijan Bust = Turkish Boom .…….…......
Chronicle VI: Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan ……….……......
Chronicle VII: Yugoslav Bust in Serbia and Croatia ….......
Chronicle VIII: Africa ………………………..........................
Chronicle IX: Latin America …………………………….....…
Chronicle X: Back To Africa ……….....................................
Credits
I can’t begin awarding credits for BATTLESPORT without recognizing my Mom, whose inspiration has been a wonderful thing. I also acknowledge family members from Grandpa Quinlan, to Mom’s three dynamic sisters, to a fiery old man who trained his ten kids as if he were still a drill instructor during WWII. As a result, his kids, now aging Baby Boomers, run around like ‘chickens with their heads cut off’ until they find their niche(s).
My sister, Casey, Springfield Shawnee High’s art teacher, helped edit this high octane odyssey. But my gratitude (and my heart) belongs to childhood soul mate, Anna, Latin teacher extraordinaire and ancient Graeco-Roman specialist. Anna and I often lived out the parts of the ancients, speaking Latin in her classrooms with me dressed as Igor Remus, world-traveling boatman in love with his muse. She transformed into the spiritual, multi-personality Anna Sabina from her cave along the foothills of Mount Vesuvius.
Though only a wanna-be philanthropist inspired by our magnanimous Uncle Paul Hellmuth, former OSS Intelligence colonel during WWII and CIA (?), this author focused on getting the world-traveler thing down. But instead of fighting a world war, Paul mentored me to ‘find a way to help prevent WWIII. ‘Shrink the world and change it somehow,’ he had said. Well, Uncle, how about spreading American football around the planet? And that’s what this book is all about, all the while evolving into countless pursuits of diplomacy and humanitarian efforts along the way.
After Paul died, another reluctant mentor appeared. Reverend Kay Glaesner, a close friend of Mom’s and another globe trotter, helped guide me through my quest in a more quarter-back-like (QB) direction than in my earlier reckless LB ways. And, when Kay died, a third influence, cousin Drew Hellmuth, also very close to Paul, helped with the outgrowth of this football journey, through the logistics and construction phase of Sports Medical Complexes in Africa.
Never too old to learn something new, NFLPA Atlanta President Solomon Brannan, who played for Kansas City Chiefs in SUPERBOWL I, is now my guru as he leads dozens of fellow NFL veterans to greater things in Africa.
Credit to: DC City commissioner Bob King and Mbaye Diagne. We’ve formed a committee in Washington to help to end a wasteful US policy of sending functional hospital beds and medical supplies to landfills once their due dates are up. Instead, we are convincing hospitals to help us ship them to African hospitals that have little or no such beds or medical supplies. Oh, and we put football pads on those containers, too.
Forward:
The Legacy “Shrink the Planet”
The following is a true story. At least it is the truth as far as this pilgrim knows it to be. This is an account of the personal experiences of a rogue linebacker (LB) from Ohio bearing football pads and know-how. He travels the world in an attempt to infect young, socialist-minded Soviet warriors behind the Iron Curtain with the positive virus of American Football in the 1980’s and 90’s. A relentless Baby Boomer, he continues his modern day odyssey through Latin America and Africa. Actually, starting in Red China, Tommy Football-seed, that’s me, charges in literally like a bull in a China shop. He is often misunderstood for his pushiness. To the more control-minded Easterners, he could only be a government operative. Otherwise, no individual takes such initiative on his own.
Tommy’s mission: IN A SPIRIT OF GRIDIRON
DIPLOMACY, TO PLANT THE SEEDS OF AMERICAN
FOOTBALL BEHIND THE IRON CURTAIN AND IN THE
DEVELOPING WORLD TO COUNTER EXTREME SOCIALISM
AND TO HELP PREVENT DEADLY WAR THROUGH A GENEVA
CONVENTION-LIKE COMBAT SPORT, APPLYING IT AS A TRUCE
AS DID THE ANCIENT GREEKS WITH THEIR OLYMPIC GAMES.
THE ULTIMATE GOAL? MAKE GRIDIRON AN OLYMPIC SPORT.
The
ancient Greeks would be proud.
The Aeneids of Troy, with the help of the goddess Aphrodite, mother of their leader, Aeneas, escaped from being enslaved by the Greeks during the fall of Troy. Trojans were thought to be more eastern than Greek due to their proximity to Persia. But they believed in the same gods as the Greeks.
If Aeneas and his followers fled to Greece, they would either be deemed second-rate citizens of the more individualistic, democratic Greeks or persecuted for their quasi-East/West practices, especially if some women wore veils, even burqas. In contrast, the more group-minded Persians insisted on total conformity, stymieing Trojan pride, women and self-determination. Until then, Trojan spirit and their walls were believed to have been built by the god. Poseidon, and had, thus far, kept the Persians and the Greeks at bay. But those days were over. And so, the Trojan survivors began a sojourn northwest, via Carthage and the isles off Italy.
Along the way, in Carthage, a Cumaen sybil helped Aeneas to witness the future of the glory of Rome to be peaked at the time of Augustus Caesar's rule, due, in great part, to its moral leanings. And Rome was to be founded by descendants of Troy, twins Romulus and Remus. And so, Aeneas traveled on to Western Italia in search of his destiny, settling with his fellow survivors of Troy along the Tiber River.
Great grandson Romulus was thought to have killed his brother, Remus, in sibling rivalry for the initial location for the 'Eternal city'. But Remus kept popping up, haunting him. The sons of Remus were infused with a travel bug, a wanderlust, inherited by their father and their ancestor, Aeneas. There was a later remake of Virgil's book 'Aneid' by a writer for Augustus Caesar, who attempted to rewrite the story to his own liking that has muddied the accounts.
Anyhow, the Trojans kidnapped women over the years from the native Sabine tribes of Western Italy. However, the Mountain tribe of Sabines had kept their distance from their 'Roman-loving traitors', preferring to remain living in the many caves along the foothills of Mount Vesuvius. A young descendent of Remus, Igor Remus, never conformed to new Roman life. He rejected the new 'Roman culture' that was replacing 'Trojan Pride', especially as Trojan-Sabine leaders substituted or re-named Trojan and Greek gods with their own. Zeus, their chief god, was changed to Jupiter, Hades to Pluto, the beautiful Aphrodite to Venus. One night, Aphrodite came to Igor in a dream, telling him to build a boat and 'leave these traitors of true, Trojan culture'.
Igor Remus wandered to all of the ports of the known world, to Basra, Cairo, Carthage...even to Sparta where he felt that perhaps it was that highly militaristic life, even combat training in youth, might best serve a society lest they be swallowed up by bigger, stronger fish, as by those invading Greeks and the Persians, too. But then there was the more diversified culture of Athens, Greece that taught the virtues of both mind and body, from Aristotle's inspiration. Yes, that was more human, less simply physical, honing the higher, comprehensive, enlightened part of humans.
Yet, this pioneering soul continued on in wanderlust, trading with the locals, learning their customs and a few languages in search of some truth. Often he felt abandoned by the gods, especially Aphrodite, great, great, great grandmother of Romulus and Remus, and himself. She had never appeared to him again since he left his people along the Tiber River in Italia. Nonetheless, the core of his being remained a proud, gods-fearing Trojan.
Then, a storm marooned him off the coast of Italia, His boat was overturned and submerged. But somehow, he woke up lying face down on the shore. It could only have been the helping hands of Aphrodite, saving him from the clutches of Poseidon, or, is it now Neptune? And she left him some fruit within his reach, hanging from a tree that should not be there. As his strength returned, he walked for what seemed an eternity until he arrived at the foothills of Vesuvius. His mangled beard and torn toga made him appear a vagrant beggar as he leaned upon a rock and cried out to Aphrodite, "Why have you forsaken me? Or, need I now cry out to Venus, your Roman name..."
At that, a roar of distant thunder....'Booooooooooooom !"
Igor, shouting, "Then you are mad at me...."
Nearly dead with exposure and loss of spirit, the man without a country and seemingly abandoned by his gods, passed out.
"Ooooooohmmmmmm.......Dulshe, yamma........Oooooooohmmm......"
Igor woke up. Then he smiled, "....Aphrodite !!!", he called out. "Is it you?"
"Ooooooohmmmmmm....Dulshe, yamma.........."
No, thought Igor. This wonderful voice was not speaking Trojan. No, it was almost Latin. But, yes, it was more Sabine, like his brother's wife, with a mixture people along the Tiber were calling 'Latin'. This language was one of the few positives that Igor could discern from his mixed blood 'former' people. It did have some structure to it. Things called 'verbs', which were the action words of a 'sentence' were typically used at the end of each sentence, along with endings that told you if it was single or plural, and also if it was past 'tense', present or would happen in the future. Then there were 'nouns', subjects put in the front of the sentence, followed by something called 'adjectives', as well as 'genitives'...they were usually possessive words...which were followed by 'ablatives', such as 'actually' et al and then one added the 'object' of each sentence before the final verb. It was difficult to learn, as Igor had found out during his struggles with it during his youth education. But once mastered, the language had helped put structure into society. Now, his heart and soul suddenly breathed new life into his veins. He stood up and parted the brush. A fire burned brightly in the darkness at the entrance to a cave carved from the mountain. There danced a beautiful woman in a full length white toga, singing out loud as her nubile body twisted and turned while her hands reached high as she seemingly floated around the bonfire. "Ooooooohmmmm, Dulshe, yamma!!!"
As if drawn to her in a trance, the Trojan-Roman...whatever-he-was, slowly walked to this muse......Yes, he had heard of such Sabine women before. These women were notably beautiful, as his brother's wife. But some of the mountain tribal sect were descendants of Cumaen Sybils, often multi-personality muses, very spiritual, very sensuous. They say that they have strong insight to the future, like that of the oracles of Delphi of ancient Greece. Others say that their spiritual chanting is actually a reaction to poisonous volcanic fumes seeping out of Mount Vesuvius. In any case, Igor felt an immediate connection. Was it some spell she cast on him?
As he sat nearby the fire, crossing his legs, she made no hesitation, as if she was expecting him. She danced around him for a while. Then she sat next to him, smiling, with gorgeous white teeth and a face that could, like Helen of Troy, launch a thousand ships. She drew Igor's soul and his self deep into hers........
Washington, DC 1941
John D Rockefeller, multi-millionaire oil tycoon seated across a huge desk in the Oval Office facing President Franklin D Roosevelt.
Rockefeller, "Mr. President, if you want me to help stimulate the economy by hiring another 15,000 workers, then I'm going to need some incentives from you: First of all, lift some of your stifling restrictions on oil drilling, which will save me time and money that translates into about a third of those hired employees. Second, give me a better deal on health insurance on these guys. That will translate into nearly as many more. Third, there are currently three crazy injury lawsuits pending against my company that the Fed wants to bill me for in millions. Hey, we offered pretty good deals to these three employees for their entire medical expenses plus cash. But lawyers and our government want to bankrupt my company to satisfy some grand socialist, entitlement agenda. And you put entitlements out there for Americans like social security and government jobs that will ruin free enterprise. It's flat out socialism."
President Roosevelt, interrupting, "Whoa, John ! Let's not go there again. You were doing all right until this charge of socialism. Let me be clear on my administration's policy. Granted, we have taken on huge government projects, as dams, forestry, social security et al to help put many of our fellow Americans back to work. Hell, John, people are hurting. But these are only partial fixes where government can and should help. However, more important is that private enterprise, like your efforts, put Americans to work primarily with private money from profit, with just a tweek from government. John, that is why I will help you by lifting some of those drilling restrictions, work out an employee health plan and have my staff work out an equitable settlement for those lawsuits. Personally, I seek balance. But, John.....John, I know how much you Republicans hate me for my seeming socialist leanings. But..."
FDR
suddenly got up from his high back chair and walked around the huge
desk. He stumbled a couple of times from some debilitating illness
before he reached his corporate counterpart. At first sight of the
President's walk around the desk, Rockefeller remained his noble,
aloof self, even sporting a gold toothpick from the lapel of his
tuxedo to clean any dirt from his manicured fingernails as he crossed
his long legs. He did not react to the Leader of the Free World's
first near fall, mostly because he was caught off guard. But, on the
second stumble, he stood up. For this was the man that the powerful
tycoon knew alone held the power to keep America strong when the war
soon came calling at our gates. Only last week, JR, as his peers
called him, met for dinner in Detroit with automobile CEO's Olds,
Ford and Chrysler to host Charles Lindberg following his historic
flight to Paris, France. JR was already aware of their recent mass
productions, as well as massive research and development, of new
tanks, planes and some breakthrough called a 'Jeep.' Lindberg was in
on all of it. This German-American flyboy had enough of his old
country in him to be on top of the latest Nazi weapons technology.
Together, they were all in on it. And Rockefeller wanted in. Of
course, this meant the hiring of many thousands of workers. Curious,
the guys had once talked about some strange illness that was plaguing
the President. Was this it? JR jumped up to help...
FDR, "Oh, I'm just a little stiff, John. I'll be okay." FDR stood face to face with JR, putting his hand on his shoulder, as if to hold himself up, FDR, "John, this great country needs you...now...during the world's greatest peril. War is upon us, whether we like it or not. Even now, numerous factories are quietly converting to at least partial manufacturing of war munitions. Lindberg was here this morning with a scientist who has plans for a top secret piece of technology that will revolutionize our accuracy in pinpoint bombing on a new super fortress airplane now in R & D. Even Hitler's best scientists haven't dreamed of such weapons.
"JR, how would you like to join up with corporate bigwigs like Ford, scientists like this guy, Norden and all who are preparing to arm our young warriors with the best possible edge versus the planet's most powerful enemies to peace?"
JR, "Uh, sir,...Franklin, my God, yes ! Sure, I thought you'd never ask !"
FDR picked up the the phone. "Silvia, have the Secretary of Defense meet Mr. Rockefeller in the room four in ten minutes...Thank you. And you can send in my next guests, too."
Turning to JR, "Thank you, son, for joining the team. I expect big things from you. Carpe Diem !"
JR, "Sir ?"
FDR, "That's Latin for 'Seize the day', John. And, in the words of my cousin, Teddie, 'Tally ho!" After shaking on it, FDR stumbled back to his chair as JR headed for the door.
Walter Quinlan had been kept waiting for over an hour longer than the two o’clock appointment that had been set up for his meeting with the President. Though he should cut the nation's leader some slack, on the other hand, this was the country's most socialist President to date. As a staunch Capitalist and Republican, Walter resented this. His four daughters, along with son-in-law Andrew Hellmuth plus Andrew's brother, Paul...and an activist Lutheran minister, Reverend Kay Glaesner, all from Springfield, Ohio, entered the hall, following completion of their White House tour, thinking Mr. Quinlan's meeting with the President was over. Walter stood up to greet them just as John D Rockefeller walked out of the Oval Office.
Andrew Hellmuth, "Ladies, that's John D...." Paul, "...Rockefeller. We know. C'mon Mr. Quinlan. I'm going in with you."
Sister Anne Marie and Reverend Kay echoed in unison, "Me, too !"
FDR's secretary stood at the door, welcoming them. Mr. Quinlan and Mr. Hellmuth entered the Oval Office, followed soon after by a nun and the reverend. They reached far across the President's desk to shake his hand. Mr. Quinlan, to himself, "He won't even walk around his desk to give us each a firm handshake. Typical backboneless, liberal democrat.'
Reverend Kay was a large figure in Clark County, physically and actively at St. John's Parish. He was everyone's first choice to be on a committee because he got things done. He called people on the phone, visited them in between seeing those in the hospital. He raised money and helped the poor. Private donors helped him to travel extensively in his quest to see the world, to better understand it. He conducted sermons at Lutheran churches in Hong Kong, Berlin, Munich, Moscow, Leningrad, Istanbul. He believed that he was sent by God to evangelize. Yet he was so ecumenical, i.e. understanding and respectful of other beliefs, even for Moslems and Jews. Here he was in Washington, DC with a group of staunch Catholics, themselves movers and shakers in Springfield. The down side was that his Lutheran bishop received many calls from St John parishioners that thought he might be too ecumenical, even Catholic.
Kay, called so by those close to him, had taken in his brother, Bill, who was a bit’ mentally challenged' as Kay explained it. Although Bill stayed with his sister in Dayton during this trip. Kay mingled well with the Catholic priests of the five parishes in town because he, too, had taken a vow of abstinence...by choice. And that was so he could take care of his brother. But it was Kay's sermons that really defined him. Though Kay preached that war was inevitable, even necessary to stem the flow of both Fascism and Communism, still he called for mercy for those trapped in the infected countries of Germany, Russia and Japan. Because we are soldiers on the moral high ground, we will eventually be victorious.'
'Ahead of his time', Paul Hellmuth, who also never married, said of Kay. Now Paul was a real mystery to everyone, a graduate of MIT and Harvard, to many a genius in corporate and international law. Actually, Paul had been dating Sister Anne Marie before she became a nun. That had bothered Walter, her father, a great deal for some time.
However, it was Reverend Kay who eventually put things in perspective for all during the annual family reunion at the Country Club.
He had overheard Walter, Paul and Anne Marie arguing in an adjacent room concerning the matter, just a month after she had taken her vows of chastity and poverty.
Walter, "Paul, you must stay away from her. Or both of you could ruin it for each other and our family will suffer greatly, especially Mother."
Kay, "Pardon the interruption, Mr. Quinlan. But I could not help but...."
Paul, "Go, ahead, Kay. We could all use an objective voice about now."
Kay, "Well, as a fellow abstainer...and I'm not sure if that's a Webster word..."
Anne Marie grinned a bit at Kay's way of diffusing tensions...
"Well, there is love between a man and a woman that is powerful and the fabric of society, especially when two become one in holy matrimony. Children born of this love elevate all into family, something that I can say is a high priority to all of us here. Now, there is another form of love, called 'Agape', which is a transcendence of a person's life, usually only capable through advanced education, travel and Godly truth-seeking in such as you, Anne Marie...and you, Paul. I personally believe that I am still seeking it, too, since it is a constant state of striving...not a 'mission accomplished'. Some people give their lives up to help others, as priests, nuns, even non-clergy. We all here know what lies ahead in the coming years, just from WW I experience. And, the needs will be overwhelming. Yet there are those of us who will rise to the occasion. Paul, Anne Marie, you both have so much background in intellectual and progressive pursuits, fueled by your faith that you are candidates for this kind of 'love, with sacrifice'. Paul, she has made her choice. Respect that. Yours is surely out there..."
(Back to Oval Office)
President Roosevelt, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Quinlan. Good to see you again, Paul. How is our Intelligence Gathering Agency doing so far?"
Paul, "Fine, sir. I fly to London next week to meet with to meet with the British on our new cooperation. And I will spend a few weeks with their eaves-dropping people listening in on Nazi communications."
FDR, "And how is your command of the German language after so many years of American living?"
Paul, "Pretty good, sir. My family is from Munich. But I still got it."
FDR, "Well, you already have millions of Europeans...and Germans, who will appreciate your help in liberating them from the Nazis."
Turning to Mr. Quinlan, FDR, "Well, Mr. Quinlan, how are you and the family doing here in DC?
Mr. Quinlan, "Very well, sir. My four daughters are waiting outside. And a son-in-law. One is Paul's brother. We all love it here. And this is Reverend Kay Glaesner, Lutheran minister and world traveler. And my daughter, Anne Marie, who just became a nun."
FDR, "Nice to meet you both. Say, Reverend Kay, are you also German-American?"
Kay, "On my father's side. My mother is Danish. Are you asking me this because you might have a place for me in the grand scheme of things? My German is very good, along with some French, Spanish, even a little Farsi and Russian."
FDR, "Very intuitive of you, Reverend. Yes, we seem to have lost our operative on the 'Silk Route', code name for the circuitous route that we ship war munitions to our Soviet allies. German U-boats have been decimating our cargo ships trying to cross the Atlantic Ocean. And so the Silk Route is strategic to our success. Now, I fear that the Nazis have eliminated him."
Kay, "Sir...Mr. President, fear is not an option. I am at your service. I have traversed that part of the world quite often. And I have contacts there, as well."
FDR, dialing his phone, "Sue, I am sending you a man who might replace Joe Mueller. Get Hans into room seven. And call Dmitri at the Soviet embassy. We need to talk.
"Reverend Kay, you got yourself a job! Now, just to prep you, you would be staging weaponry from America to Rio overseas to Durbin, South Africa...then up the African coast to a land port that has changed each month due to discoveries by German...oh, I'm sorry...Nazi intelligence. Our commitment is to get it safely to Teheran, Iran. The Soviets pick it up from that point. When you step outside, follow Sue to your briefing area. We need to prep you and move you out now, since our entire op is stagnant until Joe is replaced. God, bless you...and God, bless USA !"
Walter, Anne Marie and Paul stood, dazed by the rapid deployment of their close friend. Kay hugged each one, sweat pouring from his face and visibly through the shirt under his overcoat. Adrenalin had sent his heartbeat rate high. He had never known such excitement. Now, Kay Glaesner knew that all of those unsure studies and world travels were all about. God was preparing him to do his work at a grand scale. And he would do the President and Americans proud.
FDR, "Good. Walter, as you know, Paul has signed on to be a huge help in the war effort. As a colonel in OSS Intelligence. He says that you are not one of my biggest fans, but that you would consider helping out in the manufacturing sector. You formerly ran a bank in Cleveland and just opened an engineering factory in Springfield, Ohio?"
Mr. Quinlan, "Yes, sir."
FDR, "Well, I want to help you to fund an expansion of your factory and add a couple of well-sealed off offices and a research facility for a few scientists in manufacturing key components of a top secret high tech device for our bombers that will revolutionize warfare as we know it. A Mr. Norden has just received his patent on the device and I am hoping that you, Mr. Quinlan, and your family, will find him a home in Springfield, and make him feel at home in your fine town."
Mr. Quinlan, "Yes, sir. We will. My son-in-law, Andrew...he's just outside...he's a realtor..."
FDR, "Great. And, you and Mr. Norden will screen and hire thousands of high tech specialists to do the work. Then, in a year or so, after things are moving forward in Springfield, you will open a second such factory somewhere between DC and Boston. On this end, your government will help with the cost of the expansion, pay you well for your produced wares and pay your staff and trained high tech workers bonuses in stock options."
Mr. Quinlan, "That's very generous of you, sir. Another thing, my four daughters and my wife are just as big in running charities as Andrew, Paul and I are in leading in our respective businesses. Anne Marie is a nun. My wife would like to start a national Catholic women’s organization in DC and...."
FDR, "Just have her call my secretary next week and I will arrange a meeting with her and the Cardinal in DC. Right now, I am still an hour behind schedule. Paul, Mr. Quinlan, I wish you success. Please, pardon me for not getting up."
Anne Marie, "Mr. President, in the words of Dorothy to the Wizard of OZ, 'Oh, Wizard, do you have something in your bag that can help me to help?"
FDR, "Sister Anne Marie, in the words of the Wizard, 'you have had that power inside of you all along'. You only need to close your eyes, click those ruby slippers and get back to Springfield and mobilize the community, inspire them to do their parts to help our fighting men overseas. And, most of all, pray for them."
At that, Anne Marie blinked her eyes, clicked her heals and led the group out the door, singing, "We've been to see the Wizard, the wonderful wizard of OZ!" Thinking to herself, 'And I will form a committee for Active Peace.'
Just a month after the Japanese surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, Colonel Kay Glaesner reached Teheran with a convoy of 100 tanks, 200 artillery, 100 armored personnel carriers and many truckloads of ammo, dispersing them over a huge field in order to best limit their chances for destruction if attacked by German warplanes or saboteurs. However, when he went to check on them the next morning, his Soviet counterpart, Yevgeny, whose rank had been suddenly elevated to colonel just to match rank with the American, had his soldiers move them into a tighter formation as they tested out their new toys provided by the USA in a 'Lend-lease' program.
Colonel Glaesner, seldom lent to anger, became enraged at Yevgeny, "Nyet(in Russian), don't park those weapons so close to each other. An air attack could easily take out many of them with just a single bomb. That's why I had them dispersed so far apart. Haven't you learned from our mistakes at Pearl? Stop parking...(Yevgeny leered at him as Kay berated him in front of his men) our planes so close together. That is just the huge blunder that helped the Japanese to destroy a few of them at a time with a single bomb at Pearl Harbor."
The Soviet officer pulled a flask of vodka from his coat pocket, taking a swig. He had taken enough insults from Joe in the past, who was always right. He wasn't going to let this priest tell him how to do his job. He had his own ways of doing things. "Colonel Glaesner, you no longer outrank me. These are now Soviet weapons. And I....." Suddenly a high-pitched whining sound of engines turned heads to the West where a squadron of German Shtuka bombers dove towards the Iranian base. Immediately, Kay, his aides and an Iranian officer ran for an underground bunker. But Yevgeney ran towards the vehicles, yelling at his men to get out of them. The Shtukas dropped bombs all over the base, destroying most of the weapons, killing five of the Soviets, including Yevgeny. Also, an Iranian guard was killed.
Reverend Glaesner was asked by the Iranian officer to conduct a service for the dead Soviets, since three of them wore crosses of the Christian faith, a surprise to him since religion had been banned in the USSR since 1917.
Kay, in Russian, to over 20 Iranian military and the seven surviving Soviets, "Let me offer my sincere condolences to the men who lost their lives during this morning's attack, to you who were their friends and comrades and to their families.(Pause as an Iranian officer translated into Farsi).
"We here are of multiple faiths: Iranians of Islam, apparently a few Christian Soviets...and a couple of lost souls caught in the political trappings of a Godless ideology. "
Two of the Soviet soldiers leered at the reverend at that moment.
Reverend Kay, "With all due respect to any man's faith, as I happen to be a Christian, but very ecumenical, ergo respectful of other beliefs, and, as for Moslems, we Christians worship the same God of Abraham and Moses as you...some later day our religious leaders may resolve the current differences....But today we all mourn the loss of our comrades. And we pray for the members of their families, especially their mothers. May God have mercy on their souls. Amen."
Then three of the Soviets made the sign of the cross together with Kay. One kissed the cross before returning it beneath his tunic.
It was over a month before the mess was cleaned up, physically and politically...and shipments could resume. Moscow sent a staff sergeant to replace their fallen colonel, apparently in deference to Kay.
Another month later, Kay made a trip to Moscow during delivery of a squadron of US planes to Dovedomo Airport, where he was permitted to meet with the families of three of the fallen Soviets, one of them Estonian. Yevgeny's mother was there. She pulled out a cross to honor her son as Reverend Kay prayed over them. A Soviet officer took a picture of this, as the USSR was a sad police state that monitored and controlled every aspect of Soviet life. Yevgeny's mother submerged the cross into her bosom before the officer could confiscate it. In the name of communism, everyone was entitled to the same as the next person, but little more, unless one happened to be connected, or could afford a bribe. Religion and dissent was illegal. Individuals were stymied as the state was everything. The end justified the means. Hundreds of thousands of Soviets regularly disappeared due to any government whim. They were often shipped from Moscow area to Far East Russia, or vice versa, to gulags to do hard labor, or killed. The dictator, Joseph Stalin, had killed more of his own people than the Nazi's, according to many. Communism. Kay reminded himself of how good Americans and the rest of the free world had it. 'Thank you, God', he said quietly. 'God, help these poor souls!'
Interestingly, over a dozen of those attending the brief service were from Estonia and Lithuania.
During WWII, when President Roosevelt died suddenly of polio, Walter Quinlan met with President Harry Truman in the Oval Office to discuss the construction of the second Norden factory at an eastern US site, as former President FDR had asked. Walter had already been recruiting hundreds of technicians ready to man the operation.
President Truman, "Mr. Quinlan, I am sorry. My staff has cancelled all such weapons projects in favor of concentration on the development of a top secret weapon that will probably end this war in one single drop...the A Bomb........"
An aide broke in, "Mr. President, that is top secret information."
The President, "Don't you hush me, son! How come I never heard about this weapon of mass destruction until after Franklin died? I was the Vice President, for Pete's sake!”
Walter just turned and slowly walked out, mumbling, "Goodbye, sir." Ever since he had heard the news about FDR's death, he had become depressed, as was the whole family, the whole country. Even die-hard Republicans. And, now with news of the suicide of Adolf Hitler, bringing on the end of WWII in Europe, spirits were still down. Vivid pictures of thousands of emaciated Jews and other POW's as well as mass graves of these oppressed human beings tore at the American psyche. And then there were the suicidal Japanese Kamikaze pilots and soldiers, who preferred death over surrender. They had not yet been defeated..............until America was forced to drop the A BOMB!!!!!
At the end of WWII, Paul Hellmuth drew up the paperwork for the German surrender in both English and German as lawyer for the Allies. Then he and James St Clair took over the law firm of Hale N Dorr, in Boston. Paul did a lot of work for the government then repatriating art stolen by the Nazis. St. Clair would become famous as President Richard Nixon's attorney during the Watergate scandal. Democrats then accused Paul and James for 'collaborating in sponsoring clandestine CIA(renamed from OSS) ops without Congressional approval.' No arrests were made, as 'such accusations were politically motivated', as the special prosecutor noted.
Paul and his brother, Andrew (married to Mary Helen, one of the four Quinlan daughters) handled the stocks passed on to the Quinlan descendants. Paul was on the board of MIT, Harvard, Notre Dame and the 'BIG DIG' in Boston, where the city was transformed by major projects. He also joined Reverend Kay and others in building the new Springfield Art Museum.
Reverend
Kay helped a few oppressed Lithuanians and Estonians defect from the
Soviet Union to Springfield so they could work as cooks and in
service of the parishioners and poor for St. John's
Evangelical
Church.
Mrs. Quinlan and daughters Sister Anne Mary, Mary Helen, Rosemary and Katy devoted most of their lives leading charitable organizations during the War and ever since, while managing large families.
Open at the 1964 Science Fair in Springfield, Ohio
A tall junior high school boy is surrounded by a group of judges at his space project, which features a NASA saucer-like spaceship repelling an attack by alien saucer UFO's with a laser beam. The judges award Dick Schutte a 'Superior' grade as another boy gets an 'Excellent' for his less interesting Dinosaur exhibit.
Post WWII Baby Boom
In the early 1960’s, Bob and Rosemary (Walter's daughter) Kelly of Springfield, Ohio, had ten children living on Englewood Drive where almost every other home on either side of the street housed at least 5 or more kids together with both parents, themselves veterans of WWII in one way or another. The ratio of kids stayed the same when the Kellys moved to Sunnyland, a suburb just south of the Yellow Springs Street African-American neighborhood. But no blacks lived in Sunnyland. Segregation? Probably.
Most of the children attended St. Mary’s parochial school, which was three miles north of home. They took a public school bus each day to classes. While in the sixth grade, Tom was admiring two of the cheerleaders, Mary June and Becky. Both were sitting nearby during Sister Mary Harriet’s class, when the school nurse entered the room. She was red-faced and sobbing with tears pouring down her face. She walked over to the Sister and whimpered something to her. Suddenly, Sister Mary Harriet collapsed, briefly caught herself on her desk, and then fell to the floor. Dean, Skip, and Fritz Johnson, an African-American good friend and star running back on the football team, immediately jumped to her aid. The door was left open. All of the classroom doors opened into the gymnasium/cafeteria in the center of the building. Quickly, the faculty emptied out into the gym. They were wailing and sobbing uncontrollably. Dave McDargh, a favorite teacher of the students, banged his fists on the wall while yelling, “Why? Why, God? Why him?” Other teachers were resuscitating two of the other nuns. Students crammed the doorways, but still were left out of the loop. A girl screamed from her classroom doorway, “What is happening?” Principal Sister Mary Alcantra then screamed even louder, “Everyone, quiet! Dave, help Sister Eleanor off of the floor and into a seat. Kids, get some cups of water for the nuns. Everyone, listen up. President Kennedy was shot to death by an assassin this morning in Dallas.”
Students now joined renewed wails by faculty at this confirmation by their principal.
Principal: “This is a grave time in American history. It is almost as bad as the Cuban missile crisis last year. This same brave leader stood up to the Soviet Union when they sent an armada of ships to Cuba that were loaded with nuclear missiles, which surely would have brought on WWIII by now. Do you remember when we used to practice hiding under our desks in anticipation of a nuclear attack? JFK used an armada of American warships to blockade the Russians from Cuba. Most of you may be surprised by my support of the use of force since I am a pacifist. In hindsight, it was necessary. Even now, I am torn about our sending troops to Vietnam. Hindsight will probably vindicate American forces in stopping the spread of communism there before it reaches our shores. Pray to God, all of us, that Vice President Lyndon Johnson today picks up JFK’s torch.”
Fritz Johnson, who was standing next to Tom, was fighting back tears.
Tom: “Fritz, it’ll be all right. Johnsons are tough, right?”
Fritz: “It’s not just that. It’s also because JFK was our champion and the only hope for civil rights for us blacks, you know. Black people in America now have a double sense of tragedy.”
A year later, St. Mary’s football team, after going 7-1 during the year before, was headed for an undefeated season with only St. Raphael’s, also still undefeated, in the way. Coach Bob Shay, a WWII veteran and supervisor at the huge International Harvester Truck Plant (where half of the team’s parents worked, including Tom) led the fired-up team into battle. Well-trained and efficient, the hard-hitting team ran over the talented but not nearly as intense opponents.
A turning point in the game occurred when St. Raphael’s star running back Kevin O’Neill was crushed up the middle by Tom as the crowd of a few hundred cringed at the loud “craaaack” of the collision. For thirty Minutes, Kevin could not be revived. As the ambulance arrived, a cheerleader from St. Rae shouted, “Kelly killed him.”
Fritz Johnson: “Tom, don’t listen to her. It was a clean hit. You didn’t mean to kill him.”
Tom: “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Wait a minute. Who said he was dead? Coach, is he…”
Cheerleader’s father pointing to Shay: “This is the result of that Marine boot camp that Shay is running over at St. Mary’s. Those boys are trained warriors.”
Coach Shay: “You’re damned right, they are, I’d go to war with these guys. That’s what this game is all about, isn’t it? Look, Joe, nobody killed anybody here today. God help him. Kevin will be okay, but don’t make this personal. Okay, team, huddle up here and let’s say a prayer for Kevin.”
Dick Schutte, a huge St. Joe’s player in uniform on the sidelines, waiting to play in the second part of a double-header: “Tom, you didn’t try to hurt him. I was wondering if you were going to use that same old dinosaur exhibit in the science fair this year. If you do, I’m going to send one of my spaceships to zap ’em all with one of my laser beams. Ha, ha.” Typical Dick, the silent thinker-type. But once he gets going, he speaks a hundred miles an hour.
Fritz: “What is he talking about?”
Tom: “Ah, Schutte does this sophisticated space exhibit at the science fair each year while I do my dinosaur with a volcano routine, I try to prove a giant volcano caused the extinction of the dinosaurs while he designs technology for rockets, spaceships and laser weaponry. He gets ‘superior’ from the judges while I’ve gotten the same old ‘excellent’ each time. He's German. They invent everything, especially weapons.”
Fritz, a real intellect at St. Mary’s: “Well, hang in there. Update your exhibit. What if you suggested that aliens destroyed the dinosaurs with lasers? Hey, Dick Schutte is no dummy. He may work for NASA some day. The Rooskies already sent Yuri Gagarin into space and our scientists have done nothing to compete. If the Soviets get too far ahead of us in space, you and I will soon be ordered to take Russian courses and bow towards Moscow or we’ll be obliterated by weapons from space. It’s a real threat. This country needs minds like Dick’s.”
Meanwhile, Tom wondered if he would be satisfied in being a candidate for the warrior caste, who simply hone their skills for the battlefield. Could he be something more?
That night Tommy had a nightmare as he watched helplessly as Dick's space ships with laser beams liquefied his dinosaur exhibit. And, angry as he was, he could not transform himself into the Hulk to save them.
About this time, African Americans around the country were trying to get President Johnson’s attention. They demonstrated and often rioted in the streets of many American cities. One day during football practice, a parade of cars suddenly pulled up and the drivers honked their horns. Coach Shay got the message, “Okay, team, get in those cars and go! Avoid Yellow Springs Street.”
Dad, pulling up in his station wagon: “Get your bike and get in!” As Tom grabbed his bike, Fritz passed by him with his bike, “Tom, my people are rioting on Yellow Springs Street. Take another route home. My aunt just told me that City Commissioner Bob Henry was over there trying to calm things down.”
Just then, Fritz’s aunt, who was wearing a campaign button on her sweater that read, “Elect Bob Henry, America’s first Black Mayor,” pulled up and opened the car door for Fritz to enter with his bike.
As Tom got into the station wagon, his dad told him, “Buckle up!”
Tom: “Dad, Fritz says we should take another route.”
Dad: “Those niggers threw shit at my car on the way here. You be ready, son. Keep those pads on. We may need to kick some ass.”
Although the volume was low, Crosby, Stills & Nash sang on the radio, “Teach your children well…Their father’s hell…will slowly go by…”
Dad could not turn right from High Street onto Yellow Springs as over a dozen police cars had blocked it off. The crowd was still amassing. So, he went east to South Center Street and turned right. They passed Henry Funeral Home, owned by the city commissioner’s father, where Bob Henry was giving an interview to Dayton television. He had been on television a lot lately. Now, Tom secretly hoped that this man could help diffuse the crisis, even win the Mayor’s office, and help to get God-given rights for African Americans. Things had to change for the rights of everyone. Otherwise, America would live a lie and be less able to lead the world in championing freedom.
A year and a half later, City Commissioner Bob Henry did get elected as the mayor of Springfield, Ohio. Two years later, President Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act into law. Years later, Kevin O’Neill, who survived his ordeal, became a Springfield city commissioner.
On Halloween, Tommy dressed up as a Trojan warrior in a common Trojan outfit with a short, wooden sword while his older brother, Mike, dressed in full, Roman centurion battle dress, complete with helmet, breastplate, shin guards, wooden sword and shield. The younger brother accepted the typical practice in large families of oldest siblings usually getting the new clothes...and costumes et al while the younger later inherited it as they grew up. It made economic sense that hand-me-downs helped save funds in these large Baby Boomer families.
But the problem was, that in this more 'Spartan' family, led by their no-nonsense, hard-nosed father of WWII, a Paratroop DI,...well, Tom and his brother were often likely to get into a wrestling match, even a fight...which Dad encouraged, but had, so far, not been fatal. Of course, their belligerent father wanted them to be ready to fight the next enemy, i.e., the Russians or Chinese. But now the two were armed with swords.
The older looked behind his brother where the old man stood in the doorway, nodding to his oldest to attack. And so he raised his sword and brought it down hard on Tommy. Long accustomed to sibling combat, Tommy instinctively bent his knees as he swung his weapon above him, blocking the assault, then quickly slipping to the side to allow his brother's momentum to carry him to the floor. Tommy dove on him, pinning him temporarily by holding both of his brother's arms to the floor while slamming his wrist so he dropped the sword. Then Tom dropped his, too. But suddenly his big brother's legs caught the younger sibling's head from behind and reversed the action. Wild punches followed from both of them as they fiercely attacked each other.
Their father retired to the kitchen as Mom appeared, yelling at both boys to "Stop!"
Tom looked beyond her to his father, the perpetrator, as he wiped a spatter of blood off his face and felt his swelling left eye. The old DI just glared at him. Yes, Dad, the consummate Spartan-like warrior, brought ten children into the world to help replenish the American men lost in WWII, and then training his sons like Spartan youth to not only fight, but to overwhelm the next enemy. In protest, Tom angrily flung open the screen door and ran down the street, not stopping, but eventually slowing until he got so winded he could not run any more. As he leaned over, trying to catch his breath, he noticed that he had somehow run all the way to Cliff Park, over three miles from home. Then he heard the sound of chanting. "Ooooooooohmmmmmm...... Ecce, Salwe, Jupiter....."
It was coming from behind one of the cliffs, many of which had caves with ponds below them, very unique for Springfield. Tom walked towards the chanting. He then found a beautiful young girl, about his age, sitting under a cliff by a watery cave, wearing a white toga, but revealing shapely legs below the knee length outfit. She had stopped chanting and was sobbing.
She had not yet noticed him, as far as he knew. But as he neared her from behind, she stopped sobbing and rebuked him, "What do you want?"
She turned around and faced him. She was very pretty, even as she wiped her eyes of tears. Some acne, but not much more than himself, a common ailment of their generation. When their eyes met, soul seemed to engage soul. Suddenly her soul, seeing the bloodied face and swollen eye of the young man, contorted her face in pity. "What happened to you? Who did this to you?"
Tom, "Oh, my brother...actually my dad...I mean, the war...I don't know.....What's your name?"
"Anna", she replied. "Anna Sabina."
Tom, "Anna, why were you crying? Why were you chanting?"
Anna, "My father is a tyrant. He ran a prison for German POW's during WWII, and so he runs our house like one. The chanting...well, promise you won't laugh..."
Tom, "Never at one such as you..."
Anna, "I am a Cumaen Sybil! I’m a throwback to Sabine mountain women living along Mount Vesuvius in ancient Rome. I was speaking in Latin, my adopted language. I am a muse. Please, don't fall in love with me."
Tom, thinking...'It's a little late for that.' But then he beamed, "Hey, I read about the Sabines in the AENEID in our Latin class at St Mary’s. Homer...I mean Virgil, right? Wow, what a story that was! That's why I dress as a Trojan, not a Greek or a Roman, like my brother. I always like the underdog. My Latin isn't so good yet. It's hard to speak. Salwe means “welcome”, right?"
Anna, "Tom, I'm sorry about your pain. But I am a muse, a Cumaen Sybil....multi-personalites...a temptress. You are simply enchanted by me. Don't make the mistake of thinking you...that is anything else....", as she quickly tore her eyes away from him, looking down.
Tom, "Pain is not a problem for warriors, Anna. We are used to it. But I will leave you now to your chanting...lest I fall in love with you as you cast your spell on me. Hasta la vista, muse....I'm studying Spanish, too."
As he lay in bed that night, holding an ice pack on his eye, the boy turned on the radio, listening to a song that seemed to sum up his chance encounter, "Last night at the dance I met Laurie. So lovely and warm. An angel of a girl. Last night I fell in love with Anna (replacing Laurie). Strange things happen inthis world...."
Then came high school.
Springfield Catholic High School was on a roll, having won their football conference with a victory over highly rated Kettering Alter. Now they faced undefeated Bellefontaine, Ohio with their dynamic all state backfield of Jessie Williams and Gale Clark, whose only blemish in the last two years was last year’s tie at Catholic in Springfield. Catholic’s two defensive tackles, brothers Billy and Tommy O’Neill(Kevin’s cousins) had been trained to sacrifice themselves by submarining the offensive linemen so Tommy Kelly, now middle linebacker (where he moved to so he could roam free like his cousin Drew Hellmuth, MLB at Gilmore Academy near Cleveland), was free to unload on Williams and Clark. Another cousin, now a star at prestigious Notre Dame University, Tim Kelly, had just converted to LB and away from his RB days at Catholic, also influenced Tommy's move to MLB.
Early on, the real test came as Clark led a play as a blocker in front of Williams in an attempt to double up on the LB up the middle. Clark and Kelly had knocked each other silly, like two 225 pound rams. Williams also went down as he ran into Clark. Tommy jumped to his feet immediately, as if the collision had no effect on him. And so Bellefontaine started running outside more often. Catholic’s defense had forced the host to alter their game plan. Williams and Springfield North’s Larry Nichols were two of the top three sprinters in Ohio that year as tracksters.
A key challenge for the LB came just before half as Williams got outside on a sweep with only Tommy to beat. The LB, respecting the RB’s speed, did not commit. He shadowed the speedster, instinctively slapping away the Tight End’s attempt to block him. Even though he was a step slower, the LB had the advantage of a seven yard spread that the RB must make up before he reached out of bounds. And the LB was counting on his teammates to catch up to cover a cut back by the RB. Teammates Fuzz Hilbert, DE, and CB Jerry Whalen had fought off blocks and now were coming hard, effectively blocking any cutback. With his peripheral vision, Tommy caught sight of his cornerback, Pat Szempruch (his parochial school teammate), being double-teamed by the WR and the still active TE behind him. The LB was momentarily alone, as on an island. He slowed even more, counting on the sidelines, as he stopped taking long strides that might make it easier for him to be ‘juked’ by the speedster. Instead he squared up, facing Jessie, resorting to shorter, choppy steps so he could be ready to unload on the RB with the maximum force, yet under control.
Jessie Williams knew it was crunch time. And he could usually deliver the blow on a defender when needed. So he turned up field, lowering his head in an attempt to overpower the LB. Tommy’s instincts smelled blood in the water. Like a shark whose eyes roll over during a kill, the middle linebacker unloaded on his prey. The collision produced a huge ‘craaaaack’ felt throughout the packed stadium as speed and power exploded upon impact. Catholic’s bench erupted onto the field and pounced on the LB in unbridled celebration as the half ended. Williams was helped off the field by Clark. An overpowering momentum consumed their visiting opponents through the second half that the talented Bellefontaine team could not find answers for. And so they went on to a second stalemate in two years. Bellefontaine would go 9-01 for a second season. They were easily one of the area’s best teams Ever!
Dick Schutte, our huge offensive tackle, usually a quiet guy, made a Rare speech in the locker room after the game. He said in quick words, "Guys, today’s performance was a masterpiece. Something we will all remember all of our lives. I was proud to be a part of this great match. We are on top of the world..."
Fuzz Hilbert, jumping in, hugging Dick, "Yeh, Space Man, and spoken by someone who is out of this world. Nice game, Dick...all you guys. Party at Dick's spaceship...er, house tonight." Everyone laughed and clapped. Dick started taking off his pads at the locker across from Tommy as he spoke to the linebacker, Dick, "Kelly, the thing most of these guys don't understand is that we were able to produce a masterpiece today on the battlefield of football. It was very scientific because we had a great scouting report and prepared well at each position. Hey, you don't think the whole team will show up at my house tonight, do you?"
Tommy, "Ah, Dick, they were just teasing you. It's just your delivery they make fun of."
Dick, "Yeh, you got it. Now, on the other hand, you have more tact... more instincts than most of us. That's a gift. The way you danced with Clark and Williams today, step for step. It was perfect tone. And then you unloaded on them at their center core...at full speed...and with power. Damn!”
Tommy, "Yeh, but I wish I had your smarts, new knees and a girl."
After a home game at Hallinean Field on the south end of town, the lonely linebacker showered and then moseyed over to Vic Cassano's Pizza a half block away to relax and think to himself. About that time, North and South High Schools just finished up their annual Gridiron rivalry, begun in 1964 when Springfield High was forced to split into two schools due to the ever swelling number of high school Baby Boomers. However, the next generation of smaller families in America, two or so per household, would eventually shrink that teenage population back to a single high school.
A giggling bunch of girls suddenly burst into the pizzeria. They were wearing cheerleader uniforms of the 'North Hi Panthers'. Just as a group of football players wearing North Hi Letter jackets entered behind the girls, the eyes of two soul mates met. It was Anna.....Anna Sabina! Tom's heart leapt and a bead of sweat trickled down from his forehead. He started to rise when one of the Panther players, noticing the encounter, stepped in, putting an arm around her, dragging her to the counter to order pizzas and change for the juke box.
As Tom realized that they had just played a game at nearby Evans Stadium, and that Anna was probably dating this jerk, he tried to calm down and finish his pizza, turning away from the group. But he could not forget how he had felt about her, how many nights that he had dreamed of her.
As three of the Panther players, including the jerk, stood up to sing to the Beatles song playing "Don't Try To Hurt Me Or You'll Pay", Tom realized that the jerk was pointing at him and then her, making it personal. When the song was over, the guy again put his arm around Anna, slinging an insult in Tom's direction. "What an asshole!"
At first, Tom's adrenalin peaked. But before it turned into a fight, a second song began on the juke box. Instead of attacking the guy, Tom stood up and began singing, "Sun lights up the daytime. Moon lights up the night. I light up when you hold me tight. I get a Fever....You give me Fever!!" ...as he walked up to the couple, glaring at the boy before smiling at Anna Sabina. Then he sat back down.
A couple of the North Hi girls grinned at the performance. But you could cut the prevailing oozing of testosterone in the room with a knife. After a minute of silence...other than the music... Anna and two of the girls went to the rest room. When they came out, they headed for the door and left. The boys paid the bill and the rest left. But then one girl returned to hand Tom a note that was addressed to 'Igor'.