MY QUIXOTE-ESQUE QUEST FOR AIR CONDITIONING IN THE BLAZING HEAT OF SHERMAN, TX SUN

     I grew up without air conditioning, but no one had air conditioning.  Generally I would go to bed in a house still hot from the blazing Texas heat and wake up on sweat-soaked sheets.

     As a boy I spent the night at a friends house.  His parents had an air conditioning window unit in their living room and his mother let us sleep there for the night.  We awoke the next morning and she gave us a glass of orange juice and ice tea.  We sat in front of that AC, watched cartoons and sipped this heavenly drink in amazing cool comfort.  I thought I had died and gone to heaven.  From that moment on, I vowed my life’s work would somehow be in an air-conditioned environment.

     In the mid-60’s our family went to the new North Park Mall in Dallas.  We entered the north side of the center by JC Penney and my parents bought us an Orange Julius.  We set on the bench in the mall, in the air conditioning, in the midst of happy shoppers and this amazing drink… I had an epiphany!  I stretched out my arms and proclaimed,   “MAMA, I AM HOME!  THIS WAS MY DESTINY!  I AM GETTING INTO THE MALL BIDNESS!!!”

     

     Since I was only about 14 years of age, it was not a direct route to fulfill my ambition.  I worked in a wonderfully air-conditioned grocery store through high school and then resigned to participate in a school play late in my senior year.  I graduated, escorted Paulette Southworth to our prom,  stayed out all night and the next morning was sound asleep in my non-air conditioned, stuffy bedroom.    

     My dad woke me and announced he had good news…he had found me a summer job!  I immediately smelled a rat and asked what he had in mind.  He directed me to walk to a construction site a mile or so away and ask for the foreman, Jesus  (pronounced Hey-Seuss).  I knew this would not turn out well, got dressed and made my way to the home building site.  There I found a yard full of Mexicans who did not speak English and a few Mexican-Americans, including Jesus, who did and a bee hive of activity.  I introduced myself to Jesus and he put me to work...(sounds like an old Methodist hymn, doesn't it..."I introduced myself to Jesus and he put me to work!''.)

     My role was to carry heavy bundles of shingles up the ladder to the roof in the blazing Texas sun.  There my hispanic brothers of manual labor would separate them and nail them into place.  I made several trips up and down the ladder before I decided it would be easier to jump off the roof and end my life, rather than continue with this slow torture.  I found Jesus and announced my retirement.  He encouraged me to stay and offered me a cold “Bud-why-zer”   at the end of the day.  No, no, no…I am done.  I would rather face my father’s wrath than die on this battlefield of roofing hell.

     I walked down to my dad’s newspaper office at The Sherman Democrat and prepared to throw myself upon his mercy.  He looked up from his desk and asked what I was doing there.  I explained I quit…it was too hot, my Spanish was not that good and I truly believed the Lord wanted me to work in air conditioned surroundings.  He grunted his disgust and sent me home.

     Thereafter, the Lord commenced to work in His mysterious ways.  My friend Ed McElroy’s dad suggested to Ed and to my father I should go into radio.  He felt I would be a natural.  My dad’s friend, Bill Jaco, owned KTXO radio in the top of the Grayson State bank and I was sent to talk to him.    

     Mr. Jaco told me all radio stations had to have a first class FCC licensed engineer on duty at all times.  For a small radio station the announcer and the engineer needed to be the same person.  Even though I would not really be an engineer, I could go to Dallas and take a 6-week crash course at Elkins Institute of Radio and be taught how to pass the test.  Sounded good.     

     I went to Dallas, moved in with my uncle Phin for 6 weeks, went to school for about 8 hours a day, took the test, passed and became a certified engineer (on paper only).  If we really needed an engineer, we called a non-licensed individual who actually knew how to repair the transmitter.  Mr. Jaco hired me to work in his air-conditioned radio station, I entered the air-conditioned Grayson County Junior College and life was starting to look up for a 17 year old sissy boy who didn’t like sweltering heat.

     KTXO only had a 250 watt signal and barely covered Grayson county, but it was fun and I learned to love country music.  I worked here and a couple of FM stations in Sherman and McKinney for the next 2 years, transferred to Austin College (partially air conditioned) and was approached by the local NBC affiliate, KXII-TV in Sherman to read the evening sports and news. 

      I joined wonderfully air-conditioned Channel 12 in my junior year at Austin College.  I was reading the sports and news Monday through Saturday at 6 and 10 PM.  I initially did not do a very thorough job preparing for the evening news.  This was before tele-prompters and you had to have the copy virtually memorized so you could make eye contact with the camera.

     At first, I got along pretty well not reading over the news before going on and could wing my way, even though I butchered names like Mexia, Seguin and Tishomingo.  I would stay as late as I could with friends at Lake Texoma, race to the station in my swim suit, put on a short sleeve dress shirt, clip on tie and sports coat.  I then read the news as I was dripping water onto the floor.  The weatherman, my friend and former high school math teacher, Norman Bennett would remark, “You’re cutting it awfully close Bucky.”    

     One night I arrived at the station minutes before news time, was handed the copy, put on my clip-on tie and jacket and was on the air.  As I was rattling along, I hit a story that reported an outbreak of “VENEZUELAN EQUINE ENCEPHALITIS”.    It was reminiscent of the scene from the cartoon movie Roger Rabbit when his eyes bulged about a foot out of his head and he screamed, “AAAAUUUUUGGGGGGAAAAA!!!” (At least I only screamed it internally).  There was no way!  I looked at the camera, blurted out some gibberish and went to a commercial break.  Everyone was laughing, except my boss who threatened to kill me (not fire me) kill me, if I ever again went on the air without reading over my copy.

     I came dangerously close to getting fired a second time about 6 months after my on-air debacle.  The most revered individual in all of the Channel 12 viewing area of north Texas and southern Oklahoma was the Farm Reporter, the legendary Rudy Dockray.  Rudy had a 30 minute Farm to Market show at 6AM and again at Noon for the area farmers.  This was before computers and our “men of the soil” depended on Rudy for information on rain, crops and prices.  He was the most popular man on the air and was aloof with the rest of us.    

     The Grayson County Sheriff’s Department discovered an individual was growing marijuana in the middle of a cotton field.  The illegal drug was pulled up and Rudy found out about it.  He requested the deputies give him a plant so he could show it on the air and let the viewers see what it looked like.  His intent was to then return it to the sheriff's office to be destroyed with the rest of the crop.    

     I called the police and pointed out it was illegal for Rudy to be in possession of this drug.  It would be funny if the police came into the studio while Rudy was on the air, arrest him, handcuff him and take him off stage.  The friendly police thought it would be funny as well and in the middle of Rudy’s live show, they came on the set, cuffed him, told him he was in possession of an illegal drug and took him away.  

     I jumped on the set and filled in reading crop prices until the end of the show.  I was chuckling until I got to the control room.  The proverbial Farm to Market cow poop had hit the fan.  Rudy was livid.   The station manager was angry because Rudy was angry.  The police threw me under the bus and said it was all my idea.  My boss wanted to kill me (again).  It appeared my TV career was coming to a close.  I apologized to everyone, threw myself at Rudy’s feet and went on the air to beg the viewers for their forgiveness for mocking our beloved Farm Reporter.  Ultimately Rudy begrudgingly forgave me and I escaped being massacred.  I was reminded by my boss, I could not get any closer to getting fired than I already had.  I had best walk a fine line for the remainder of my life here at Channel 12, or I would have to find a new career and it might not include air conditioning. 

     At that time we had the Sher-Den Mall in Sherman and I became acquainted with the mall manager.  I told him of my aspirations to get in the mall business and once I graduated from Austin College, he suggested I send my resume to Melvin Simon and Associates of Indianapolis.  They had more malls than anyone in Texas and with my background in radio and TV, I might get hired as promotions director at a center…an entry level job.

     I sent in my resume, they called and had me fly for the first time in my life to an interview.  I said I didn’t care where I went, just so it was in Texas.  I had never been north of Oklahoma and was reluctant to move too far from home.  

     They hired me, ignored my request and moved me to Anderson, Indiana.  In December, 1972, I was on my way…entering at last an environment that was always air conditioned, climate controlled and usually had an Orange Julius shop around.