Monday, March 19, 2007

There is No Place Like Nebraska

I made it home to Ord and Mother went with me to find a room in Lincoln for my first year at the University of Nebraska. My room was about two miles from campus but the cost was reasonable - $5 a week. My roommate was a law student and the owners of the home were a retired couple named Smrha, a Czech name.

The walking to class kept me healthy but it meant staying all day until my last class. I began stopping at a pool hall on the way home from class and found my small town skills did not hold up in my first try at nine ball.

The game was played for money and I lost the three or four dollars I had with me. I was still moping around after all the winners had gone. The owner must have felt sorry for me and asked if I wanted a job.

I took the job, at 60 cents an hour, and had a little spending money for the rest of my time in Lincoln. My folks and I had agreed before I left for college that if I could graduate in three and a half years instead of four, it would be better for them financially since I could be self supporting sooner. Consequently, I was not expected to hold a job while in school but the pool hall work did not deter my time goal.

When Grandpa McCormick asked Mother how I was doing at school, she told him about the pool hall job. He said, “You must be mistaken. It must be a bowling alley.” A pool hall to him was a den of iniquity and no grandson of his could ever work in such a place. In fact, the law prohibited the sale of beer in pool halls at that time in Lincoln so a lot of my work, aside from racking balls, was making malted milk shakes for the customers.

As far as finances were concerned, once a month I would go to a bank in downtown Lincoln and cash a check on my parents Ord account (they had provided for this arrangement) to cover room rent and food.

Some 20 or 30 years later, in talking to Mother, she said I spent a lot less than they expected. She put half of her wages at the Ord Quiz in my account. I guess giving me the responsibility to be conservative (I had no idea of my parents’ financial capability) proved to be a wise choice.

Since I was a transfer student, I didn’t get rushed like most freshmen but I was not really interested in the Greek fraternity scene. I did get invited to one party for potential pledges where they provided Dutch Master cigars, good food, and a feeling of elitism. I was not invited back, however, and I finished my college career as an independent.

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