Edit:
Yep, true story.
His name was Bill Wms.
Orig. from Akron, OH.
The Honda had a Hunt's tomato can, with nail holes, stuck in the exhaust to make it street legal. Every couple of days it got real exciting when the can blew itself off. Our motor pool also consisted of a rusty split window Beetle (Don's) and a newish gold Thunderbird convertible (belonging to Sandy - a rich girl from Pasadena) That thing was less than knee high, and 10' wide, in my memory.
We bought some more of that cheap white paint and once again we tried to color it with tubes of pigment from the store. It didn't work - I stayed up all night painting our porch in the dark, turned out pink, powder blue, pale lavender & pale yellow. Bill came home from night shift at sunrise & laughed. The Covina, CA, newspaper & our friends said it looked like a circus wagon.
With our posters and black lights and folk music coming through the door in our front room, the kids flocked to our house. Traffic flowed by every evening to look at the town's first Hippies. A guy from the ACLU stopped by to let us know that we had picked most the conservative town around to do this. (we had some hecklers, but not much) We met with the juvenile officer and set some rules for the house. No drugs or alcohol allowed, and everyone must clear out by 9pm week days, 10pm w/e. Told the kids to bring their parents around. Got a bunch of posters from a rich guy in LA - which we gave away along with free underground papers. (those things sell for big $$ now)
With the help of the Digger News and the LA Free Press we hosted the areas first Love-In in the city park.
You can probably look all this up if the Covina newspaper has archives,1967. I was on the front page one time. Bare foot, shirtless & Tanned kid sitting on the porch playing my Martin guitar - having a cup of joe at sunrise!
Always my fav time of day.
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This was a time when many were looking to avoid the draft. As a military bratt I had no issues with military service - but I really wanted to be a medic after I was drafted. The Army does not let you choose.
So, I read up on the situation and by some miracle I was able to get my local draft board to listen to reason:
"You want us to change your draft status to 1-AO, a conscientious objector who will serve in the regular Army, but without a weapon? Kid, do you realize almost every medic is going to combat in Vietnam?"
"Yes sir. But I know I'm ripe for the draft - I just want to be trained as a medic. I've worked in a hospital - I'll be a good Army medic."
That evening the board had just dealt with a few doz U.Mass/Amherst students crying about the loss of their 2-S deferments due to flunking their courses. This helped my cause a lot. I was the last one to be interviewed.
The board pres. looked around the room at the members - one old guy had known a CO medic in WWII & he spoke in my defense. No one had any objections. "OK, kid, you got it. Good luck!"
So, in a very few months I went from cooking in Haight/Ashbury, to starting a Hippy house and a love-in in So. Cal., to kissing my new wife goodbye in the Kansas City airport, as newly minted Medic. Headed for the games in sunny S.E.Asia.
Mom cried, My Dad, the Colonel, gave me his WWII & Korea advice: "Keep your head down, Son."
(before my Dad passed - he told me that he was a little worried there for a few years {my hitch-hiking, Hippy period} but that I turned out OK. And I apologized for being such a worry to them both.)
The finest people I've ever worked with. Some of the huey pilots were barely out of their teens. No offense to other era Vets - but Vietnam seemed like it was fought by teenagers.
Mrs. Stig says I've worn out more than a few Angels.
Perhaps. But I'm ATGATTing & trying to ride responsibly every day, now.
Stig
