Age 18, June 1968, post-graduation

first clue to mystery: the unpaid bill
 

Famous baseball player Yogi Berra once exclaimed it is never over till it's over.  Sage advice.  I had assumed the Senior Prom was the concluding event of my high school career, but I was wrong.  On a Monday night in June two days after the Prom, my mother met me at the door when I came home from work at the grocery store.  I knew she was upset by the expression on her face.  When I asked what was wrong, she handed me a bill from St. John's.  $350. 

I turned white.  $350 was a lot of money back in those days ($3,000 in 2020 modern-day terms).  With a sense of dread, I asked, "Is this bill what I think it is?"

My mother nodded silently.  Although my scholarship spared the burden of tuition, my mother was responsible for schoolbooks and lunch meals.  Frowning, I asked, "Mom, when was the last time you paid this bill?"

"October."

I was completely taken aback.  We had barely spoken the entire past year in the House of Horror, also known as Little Mexico.  Consequently I had no idea my mother had not been paying this bill.  Obviously she had ignored the bill ever since my father stopped paying child support back in October.  I knew Mom was broke, but I didn't know she was this broke.  Sensing the seriousness of the moment, I asked, "Did they threaten you?"

My mother winced.  "Of course they did, Richard.  All the time.  In fact, two weeks ago some nasty man on the telephone had the nerve to warn me you would not be allowed to participate in the graduation ceremony.  He was so harsh, it sounded like he was serious."

I gasped in alarm.  "What did you just say?"

My mother averted her glance.  She was too embarrassed to look at me.  "The man on the phone assured me you would not be allowed to graduate with your classmates unless the bill was paid in full prior to the ceremony.  He insisted this was not a bluff."

When my mother said this, I became incensed.  Considering my mother had no idea whether the man was bluffing or serious, she should have at least warned me so I too could evaluate the threat.  Is my mother incapable of doing anything right?  As it stood, I had participated in the ceremony blind-folded to the possibility of being removed by a security guard.  Holding my temper in check as best I could, I replied, "But, Mom, I did participate.  No one said a word to me."

"I know," she replied.  "I took a gamble the bill collector was just bluffing."

Considering my feelings of inferiority, it would have been an extinction-level event for some security guard to come over and ask me to leave the premises.  I could just see myself being led away as everyone nodded there goes the Creepy Loser Kid, the token poor boy of St. John's.  This was unacceptable.  Only my idiot mother would take the chance of setting me up for further humiliation without a word of warning.  Livid, I abruptly put the bill in my pocket and stomped upstairs to my room.  The next morning I drove to the SJS business office and cleared the debt using grocery store money.  As I handed over the check, I asked myself who would have the authority to call off the bill collector.  Probably Mr. Salls.  Who else had the right to remove the strongest incentive to force my mother to pay up?  Perhaps Mr. Salls had intervened to save me embarrassment at the Graduation Ceremony.  If so, then I should be grateful.  Sad to say, I had graduated assuming Mr. Salls hated me.  He had been gruff when he handed me Ralph O'Connor's phone number, angry but silent during the gym equipment interrogation in his office, and curt at graduation.  Assuming he carried a grudge over cheating on the German test, Mr. Salls had every right to be disgusted with me.  Probably he let me off the hook at Graduation just so he could get rid of me.

With a deep appreciation for irony, I had a grim smile as I left the office.  They say be careful what you wish for.  I had longed for some way to be special at my school.  Today I had gotten my wish.  I was probably the only student in SJS history to clear the final bill out of his own pocket in order to graduate.  This curious moment served as the perfect bittersweet ending to High School Hell. 

My ignoble status as the poor kid who did not belong at a rich kid's school would haunt me for years to come.  I doubted I would be missed.  Who could blame them?  Tormenting Mr. Salls and Mr. Murphy with one irritating headache after another, no doubt I had worn out my welcome. 

However, when Mr. Murphy berated me for my 'glaring absence of gratitude' during Murphy's Curse, he was wrong about me.  Underneath my miserable exterior, I nursed a burning desire to express my gratitude to the school.  Hopefully Mr. Salls knew me better than Murphy and was able to see I also had a decent side.  Today I had paid my financial debt.  Someday I hoped to repay my immense spiritual debt as well.  Deep down I was as loyal as any student who ever graduated.  I understood the kindness of the SJS faculty was the only reason I survived my difficult childhood relatively intact.  St. John's had given me a fighting chance and I would never forget that as long as I lived.  As I left the premises, the color of my blood would be Red and Black in perpetuity.

Following my morning visit to the St. John's business office, I had another appointment.  As I drove to meet my friend Walter Freeman, I was deep in thought.  By my count, I had dodged five bullets during my Senior year.

•  Mr. MacKeith had looked the other way when I was caught out of bounds in the Faculty-only restroom.

•  Mr. Salls had looked the other way when I was caught cheating.

•  Coach Lee had looked the other way when I was caught stealing.

•  Mr. Murphy was determined to suspend me, maybe even expel me, but had mysteriously failed to follow through.

•  Someone had looked the other way to allow me to graduate despite my mother's enormous debt.

What was the meaning of all this?  Something did not add up.   I suppose if I had given this train of thought more time, I might have solved the Mystery right there.  However I had something more important to attend to.  That morning I had called my friend Walter Freeman to ask if the offer to move into his garage apartment was still good.

Walter was a classmate and a friend at St. John's.  I met him when he started SJS in the 7th grade.  Walter had two brothers and three sisters.  All six kids went to St. John's, so they ranked right behind the Ballantynes for the largest family.  His father was a meteorology professor at St. Thomas University.  Walter's family lived comfortably, but they were certainly no competition for the wealthy River Oaks crowd.  For that reason I suspected all six children received partial scholarships.  Although we never talked about it, I imagine Walter felt some of the same social discrimination I did.  Over the years I would meet up with Walter and his older brother Jack to play sports on the weekend.  Walter's parents were really nice to me, so I felt welcome in their home.  I had spent a lot of time hanging around their house over the years.  In particular the Freeman home served as a mental health retreat on days when I just couldn't take it anymore over at Little Mexico.

Recently St. Thomas University had offered Dr. Freeman a house closer to campus as part of his employment package.  However, since the family would not be moving in until the end of summer, both the house and garage apartment would stay unoccupied for three months.  By offering me the garage apartment for the summer, I could keep an eye on the place.  This was perfect.  The apartment was within walking distance of my grocery store job.  After all the din and racket at Little Mexico, the absolute quiet took some getting used to, but I would try my best.  I took a long breath and grinned.  Gee, what would I do for entertainment without Little Mexico? 

As for my curiosity regarding the unpaid bill, I was so excited to escape the House of Horror, I forgot all about it.  So why did it take me 40 years to solve the Mystery?  The answer is simple enough.   Once I moved to Walter's garage apartment, I did my best to forget about my difficult Senior year at St. John's.  It is tough to solve a Mystery when you don't realize there is a Mystery to solve. 

solving the mystery, second clue

1968: who is Ralph O'Connor?
 

So how did the truth finally come out?  Slowly.

Every year I spent at Johns Hopkins, I got another clue that I was missing something.  As we shall see, my Epic Losing Streak with women that started at St. John's continued at Johns Hopkins.  Due to my miserable luck with women, I decided to take a siesta.  This left me with a lot of free time on my hands. 

Back in high school, I had substituted basketball for dating.  Now I did the same thing here at Hopkins.  I played at least an hour of basketball five days out of seven as a way to deal with the loneliness and frustration.  Without basketball, I can't imagine how I would have retained my sanity during Freshman year. 

Each afternoon as I laced up my basketball shoes, I would remember when Mrs. Ballantyne once told me she didn't date much in college.  Instead, she played a lot of tennis.  With a grimace, I realized her words were starting to make a lot more sense.  Here I go following in her footsteps again.  My decision not to date in college was one parallel to Maria Ballantyne I would have preferred to avoid, but it is what it is.

Every day I went to play basketball, I was fascinated to note the basketball gym was named for Ralph O'Connor, my Hopkins benefactor.  Every time I passed by his name, I speculated Ralph O'Connor had to be pretty important.  Not only did Johns Hopkins display his name prominently on their sports complex, the school had given me a college scholarship based on his word alone. 

Before entering the gym, I would nod to the name 'Ralph S. O'Connor' emblazoned at the entrance and thank him again for arranging my scholarship to college.  Mr. O'Connor was my hero.

Ralph O'Connor had given me the greatest gift of my life, a college education.  His Act of Kindness affected me greatly because I was a complete stranger to him.  To put things into perspective, my $16,000 scholarship would be worth $135,000 in 2020.  Which is another way of saying this was quite a gesture.  

I often wondered who Ralph O'Connor was.  Why would a stranger give so much money to a kid he did not even know?  He had to be important to get Hopkins to give me a full scholarship on his word alone.  It was not until the Internet came along that I would learn his full biography, but I received a fascinating insight in 1970.

The Hopkins campus newspaper reported a Texas businessman named Ralph O'Connor had used his Hopkins alumni connections and Houston business connections to arrange a lacrosse game between Hopkins and Navy at the then-famous Houston Astrodome. 

At the time, Johns Hopkins was the national lacrosse champion and Navy was their biggest rival.  Mr. O'Connor was quoted in the paper as saying he arranged this game because he wished to popularize the sport in the state of Texas.  Until now, only Eastern colleges took lacrosse seriously, so O'Connor wished to act as a pioneer. 

The article added that Ralph O'Connor (Johns Hopkins '51) had enlisted his good friend Dr. Denton Cooley (Johns Hopkins '50) to help promote the game.  Dr. Cooley, the eminent heart surgeon, persuaded several fellow heart surgeons to help him sponsor the game.  Once Dr. Michael DeBakey, Cooley's famous rival, agreed to help, the funding was secure.  The Big Game was on.

Although I was disappointed when the Navy Midshipmen downed Johns Hopkins 9-6, in the larger scheme of things the game was a huge success.  Co-sponsored by the Texas Heart Association here in Houston, the Hopkins/Navy game attracted over 18,000 fans.  That impressive total set a single-game attendance record for lacrosse that stood for 20 years.  Indeed Mr. O'Connor accomplished his goal.  The famous 1971 game has been credited with bringing lacrosse to Texas.  However, I was mystified.  Mr. O'Connor was very well-connected.  After all, Cooley and DeBakey were the two most famous doctors in America.  So who is Ralph O'Connor? 

solving the mystery, third clue

1968: Doug and Charles
 

In September of my Freshman year of college I ran into a boy named Doug.  I forget his last name but it may have been Bailey.  Johns Hopkins was not a large school, 2,000 undergraduates, so it was inevitable our paths would cross eventually.  I thought I recognized Doug and I was right.  Doug was a member of the 1966 St. John's graduating class. 

I was in the 1968 Class, so Doug was two years ahead of me at St. John's.  I asked Doug what brought him here to Hopkins.  When he said that Mr. Salls had been extremely influential, I rolled my eyes.  I wondered if Mr. Salls had used the same corny line on Doug he had used on me.  "In my opinion, this school is a perfect match for your talents."

Surprised to discover a fellow St. John's graduate, I asked, "So what do think about Hopkins?"

"Oh, it's okay.  Too bad there aren't any girls here.  I feel like I'm on a deserted island."

Doug definitely got that right.  I was not having any more luck than he did.  Noting how shabbily he was dressed, obviously he took his deserted island metaphor seriously.  My next question was somewhat sarcastic.  "So, Doug, are you planning to look for a girlfriend?" 

"Are you kidding?  At this place?  All I ever do is study.  What else is there to do?"

I nodded.  My sentiments exactly.  We chatted for a moment longer, then Doug said he had to get to class.

Not long after that I ran into a guy named Charles Kuttner.  Charles was a member of the 1967 St. John's graduating class.  Charles was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him.  Charles quipped, "Boy, it's getting pretty crowded up here with St. John's Rebels.  Have you seen Doug yet?"

I said yes and we briefly exchanged polite small talk.  I didn't ask Charles about his love life because he hadn't shaved in a month.  He was so grubby, that spoke for itself.  After we parted, I found myself thinking it was really odd to see two other boys from St. John's here at Johns Hopkins.  Kind of a small world, yes?

Since Doug and Charles were ahead of me at SJS, I did not know them very well.  However I did happen to know they were mediocre athletes.  Since St. John's was a small school, every able-bodied boy made an effort to support the school by going out for a sports team.  However, those who had no chance of making a team were required to take the mandatory Physical Education class three times a week.  As we recall, my blind left eye had prevented me from playing contact sports, so I too was forced to participate in P.E.  This is why Charles, Doug and myself had participated together many times in Phys Ed class.  They were total klutzes straight out of central casting in 'Revenge of the Nerds'.  Another thing I knew was they were not particularly popular.  I knew that because they sat with their respective outcast group during lunch time just like I sat with my own outcast group.  In other words, we were three peas in a pod.

Here at Hopkins, their appearance was terrible.  Doug and Charles did not shave, they dressed in shabby jeans and torn tee-shirts.  In additin, their hair was longer than mine.  I understood the reason they looked so bad was the absence of women.  Without a single woman in sight, why should any of us care how we looked?  The lack of women was a real curse.  Now that I thought of it, why would any boy in his right mind come to this place?   And that's when it hit me.  I would have bet the farm those two boys were here on scholarship just like me.  They had to be!

The only reason for a Texas boy to come all this way would be a scholarship.  Looking at these two guys was like looking in a mirror.  I recalled that back at St. John's, they occupied the bottom of the social totem pole just like me.  We all fit the profile... low self-esteem, never talked to girls, hung out with the eggheads, studied like dogs.  Furthermore, now that Charles and Doug no longer wore the disguise of a St. John's uniform, my instincts told me they didn't come from money either.  It occurred to me that they had probably been on scholarship at St. John's just like me.

Not for a moment did I believe it was a coincidence that three St. John's boys were here at Johns Hopkins.  I suspected all three of us were in great debt to Ralph O'Connor.  This guy was richer than King Midas.  Who on earth is Ralph O'Connor? 

solving the mystery

2009: the return of Maria Ballantyne
 

The Mystery began in 1968.  The Mystery was solved in 2009 by none other than the illustrious Maria Ballantyne. 

I love my story about 1968 meeting Mrs. Ballantyne in the parking lot.  It remains the closest thing to a religious experience I have ever experienced.  In my heart I was never able to shake the feeling that Mrs. Ballantyne was sent by someone special to put me out of my suffering.  Nor did I believe that 'someone' was a human being.

At the time I believed our meeting had been arranged by a hidden hand.

Assuming her visit was an act of Divine Intervention, this experience became the foundation of my belief in God as well as Fate. 

Oddly enough Mrs. Ballantyne had disappeared after our parking lot conversation.  I really wanted to ask what had brought her to my grocery store that day, but I did not see Mrs. Ballantyne again during the final two months of the school year.  Oh well.  Once I graduated, she was gone forever (or so I thought). 

As it turned out, I did meet Mrs. Ballantyne again.  She drifted in and out of my life five more times.  After a very pleasant visit in 1978, Mrs. Ballantyne promptly disappeared for 27 years.  We would meet again in 2005, 2009, 2010, and 2015. 

Although we only met six times total, due to the importance of each visit, I am totally convinced that Maria Ballantyne was my Soulmate.  Mrs. Ballantyne functioned like a winding stream due to her curious habit of briefly crossing my path at totally random times.  I would be busy doing something when out of nowhere she would pop into my life, hand me a significant message, then vaporize again just like a Fairy Godmother.

For our purposes, let's focus on the 2009 visit.  I hope you don't mind, but I am going to keep the details of how we ran into each other vague so I can save the full story for Gypsy Prophecy.  Suffice it to say I have just received a surprise visitor and we find a convenient couch for a long talk.

Mrs. B was 89 at this point, but her mind was sharp as ever.  She reached for my hand and smiled warmly.  There was a definite fondness between us as we began to chat.  Or should I say Mrs. B began to chat?  She always did 98% of the talking.  Mrs. Ballantyne immediately brought up the issue of Katina's Jones Scholarship, a source of considerable misery for me in 1968.

Mrs. Ballantyne repeated exactly what she had told me 40 years earlier.  Mrs. B reminded me how she was constantly scrounging for any financial aid assistance she could find to make ends meet.  It was hard to explain to people who looked at her beautiful River Oaks home that her family was strapped for cash.  She added the task of sending seven children to expensive private schools and colleges was overwhelming.  So why was she talking about this now?  Although I had never said a word about it to her, I think at some point Mrs. Ballantyne had guessed how upset I must have been at the time when her daughter got the award instead of me.  I suppose she wanted to make sure I harbored no ill will.

She was so apologetic, I swear I wanted to hug her!  "Good grief, Mrs. Ballantyne, what are you worried about?  You cleared this up in the parking lot 40 years ago.  You had seven children and money was tight.  Without scholarships, your children had no way to attend St. John's and then college.  It all worked out.  Two weeks after we met in the parking lot, I got lucky when a man named Ralph O'Connor handed me a scholarship.  All's well that ends well." 

Mrs. Ballantyne smiled and said she was grateful that I understood.  She was such a sweetheart!  Now Mrs. Ballantyne began to reminisce about the St. John's years.  She started by saying, "Back in the old days I knew you without knowing you".  She was referring to the 4th and 5th Grade when my book locker was next to the Commons Room where she met her friends for afternoon tea and coffee.  I had been so fascinated with Mrs. Ballantyne's outsized personality that I would stop and stare at her like she was a movie star.  Apparently my hero worship had not gone unnoticed.  Mrs. Ballantyne said she occasionally noticed a young boy who always seemed to be studying her from a corner of the room.

"Was that you, Rick?"

Turning red, I sheepishly admitted it was.  I was embarrassed.  I had not realized I had been that obvious, but then I guess kids always think they are a lot sneakier than they turn out to be.  I should have known better.  I don't think Mrs. Ballantyne ever missed a thing. 

Mrs. Ballantyne continued.  "When I was trying to place where I knew you from there in the parking lot, I did not realize you were the same person as my secret admirer from long ago.  However, when I got home that night I put two and two together and wondered if you were the same boy.  What I did know is that I felt very drawn to you in the parking lot.  That might explain why there was such an immediate depth to our conversation."

"Did you ever wonder why I watched you all the time?"

"I have a hunch, but why don't you tell me?"

"I was a little boy, 10 years old.  My parents had just gotten a divorce and my mother fell to pieces.  She went off the deep end and married this guy who had just gotten out of prison.  He was a horrible man.  He drank heavily and beat my mother.  I was an only child and I was scared to death by my mother's instability.  When I saw you, I wished fervently I could have a mother like you instead of her."

Mrs. Ballantyne smiled, but did not comment, probably to spare my feelings.  What I wanted to add was why I thought it was remarkable that of all the people in the world to come to my rescue during my Senior year crisis, it was her.  However, that was way too sensitive a subject, so I stopped there.  When I failed to continue, Mrs. Ballantyne resumed talking.

"Over the years, I liked to look and see if my secret admirer was anywhere around.  I never knew your name or what grade you were in, but I knew that some unknown boy liked to watch me.  However, I did not realize until after our parking lot talk was finished that you were probably the same person.  That got me thinking tonight.  I seem to recall there was a high school boy who never failed to glance at me in the hallway.  Was that you?"

For the second time I turned red with embarrassment.  I was stunned to discover Mrs. Ballantyne had noticed my interest in her had carried over into high school.  For many years I had longed to talk to her, but was too shy to actually approach her.  Every now and then we would pass each other in the hallway going in the opposite direction.  I would glance at her in an effort to draw eye contact, but not once did she acknowledge me.  Now for the first time I realized she had noticed.  I was impressed.  Mrs. B had quite the poker face.

"When you passed me in the hallway during high school, I never realized you were the same boy who had watched me in the Commons Room.  But I did notice you.  Although I did not know anything about you, I could tell you were in pain.  I could see it in your sad face.  I suppose that is how I finally recognized you in the parking lot.  I was certain I knew you from somewhere.  When you told me in the parking lot about feeling like an outsider looking in at St. John's, you reminded me so much of my own difficulties growing up.  I had compassion for you because I too led a secluded and stressful life as a teenager."   

With her next comment, Mrs. Ballantyne flipped my world upside down. 

"I can still remember the day I asked my friend Charlie what he knew about you."

My ears perked up.  "My friend Charlie..."  Oh my God!   I stopped breathing for a moment.  Did I really hear what I thought I heard?  "Charlie" was the name Mr. Salls went by with his friends. 

"Not long after I ran into you at Weingarten's, Charlie and I were sitting in my living room.  I don't remember why, but he may have dropped by to pick up his daughter Elissa who was best friends with my daughter Marina.  I decided to ask him about you."

My eyes grew even wider.  Her living room?  I had suspected that Mrs. Ballantyne and Mr. Salls knew each other, but I had no idea they were this close.  During my St. John's days, Mr. Salls and Mrs. Ballantyne were like Olympic Deities to me, Zeus and Hera sitting on their throne.  Consequently it was difficult for me to visualize them as normal people.  I would have never guessed that Mr. Salls and Mrs. Ballantyne were close friends.  However, it certainly made sense.  I had seen them side by side many times in the SJS hallways.  Their friendship was quite a revelation.  Not only that, Mrs. B had just revealed they had talked about me. 

"You might be surprised to know that Charlie had it just as rough as you back when he was a kid.  I think that is the reason he kept a close eye on you."

I was astonished.  I was 59 years old as we spoke on the couch, but suddenly I was that same little kid again.  My poor heart was thumping so hard it nearly popped out of my chest. 

"Mr. Salls kept a close eye on me?  I never knew that."

"Absolutely.  He knew all about your problems.  Charlie told me that you were an excellent student.  Then he added that he often worried about you.  He explained your history at the school to me, then remarked he had heard from one of your teachers that your home situation was pretty miserable."

I assumed Mrs. Ballantyne was referring to Mr. Curran, the English teacher I often confided in.  This was news to me.  I had no idea that Mr. Salls had taken an interest in me.  I assumed he had been furious with me throughout my Senior year.  In fact, on Graduation Night, I was convinced he hated me due to the cheating incident.  Now I was starting to wonder if I had misjudged him. 

Mrs. Ballantyne continued to speak very warmly about Mr. Salls.  After mentioning he had passed away in 1985, she said how much she missed him.  I listened with fascination as Mrs. Ballantyne described her friend to me.   

Mrs. Ballantyne called "Charlie" a "softy" and marveled at "how down to earth he was".  Mr. Salls seemed like such a stern man to me.  I was certainly scared to death of him.  However, when Mrs. Ballantyne spoke, she revealed a warm side to my Headmaster that I was never privileged to see. 

With that gruff, gravely voice and fierce demeanor, Mr. Salls seemed pretty tough on the outside.  However, Mrs. Ballantyne knew Mr. Salls as a kind man who cared deeply about his school and took his responsibilities to his students seriously. 

I had to laugh.  Who would have ever guessed Mr. Salls was a softy!  However I already knew he was "down to earth" from my own observation.  There was nothing phony about Mr. Salls.  For that matter, "down to earth" was the same phrase I often used to describe Mrs. Ballantyne.  That probably explains why the two of them got along so well.  They were the unpretentious ones in a world of wealthy, self-absorbed people.  Given their humble origins, it was only natural they would be drawn to one another.  But how did they discover their similar background?  Very odd.

I marveled at the things Mrs. Ballantyne told me during our conversation.  This was the first time anyone had ever said a word to me about the man behind the mask.  I wondered why it had taken me 40 years to discover Mr. Salls did not hate me after all.  I listened in stunned silence as Mrs. Ballantyne returned to the subject of the Jones Scholarship.  She mentioned Mr. Salls had spoken to her during the year about his plan to give the scholarship to Katina. 

"Mr. Salls understood it would be difficult for Katina, the daughter of a prominent physician, to obtain a scholarship due to her father's considerable income.  There was no guarantee Vanderbilt was going to help Katina.  More likely they would insist on loans.  Since Mr. Salls had control over the Jones Scholarship, why not give it to Katina to defray some of her expensive college tuition at Vanderbilt?"

Mrs. Ballantyne paused for a second to make sure I was following carefully.  Trust me, I was following carefully.  Nor was I breathing as she revisited my ancient wound.

"Mr. Salls was certainly quite the wizard mastermind.  He made sure everybody was covered!  He took care of Katina, he took care of you, and no doubt behind the scenes he took care of many other deserving St. John's students as well."

I froze upon hearing those words.  "He took care of you..."  How had Mr. Salls taken care of me?  Did this mean what I thought it meant?  My mind was spinning.  

"I have a question.  Do you think Mr. Salls arranged my scholarship to Johns Hopkins?"

"I do not know this for sure.  Charlie was careful to keep details like that to himself.  However, based on how he helped my children, I suspect he did all kinds of favors that no one knows about.  He was secretive because he did not want it known that he tried to help whenever he could.  If parents knew the full story, he worried they would knock down his door asking for similar favors for their own children.  But yes, if I were to guess, he had his fingers all over your college scholarship."

I was incredulous.  "But why would he do that?  I didn't deserve his help, certainly not after the stunts I pulled.  Did Mr. Salls bring up the issue of my discipline problems?"

"Actually he did mention that you got into a considerable amount of trouble.  But he didn't go into any detail.  Why don't you tell me about it?"

I explained the cheating incident on the German test and how I thought Mr. Salls had punished me by giving Katina the Jones Scholarship.  Then I talked about how Mr. Murphy had told me I deserved to be expelled.

"That sounds pretty harsh.  What did Mr. Murphy say?"

"I called it Murphy's Curse.  He said I was incorrigible and predicted I would fail badly someday because I had never learned to keep my big mouth shut."

Mrs. Ballantyne grinned.  "Did he really say that?"

"Yes, ma'am.  And he had good reason to say so.  I am truly ashamed of how badly I behaved in my Senior year.  At one time or another I was caught cheating, stealing, trespassing and fighting with another student.  I was probably the worst headache in the history of St. John's.  Just ask Mr. Murphy.  I often disobeyed his orders to get my hair cut.  And I was insolent more times than I care to reveal.  I lost count of the number of times Murphy sent me to Penalty Hall on Saturday morning, but it had to be double figures.  Nor did it stop there.  You have no idea how many times Murphy threatened to suspend me and I am positive he ran the idea past Mr. Salls.  That is why I graduated thinking Mr. Salls was disgusted by my behavior.  Now you tell me Mr. Salls was actually my best friend.  And you know what, I think you're right.  Mr. Salls must be the reason Mr. Murphy was not able to wreak his vengeance on me."

Mrs. Ballantyne frowned.  "Why were you so convinced Charlie disliked you?"

"You have no idea the extent of the hostility I felt towards Mr. Murphy.  And I am sure the feeling was mutual.  We argued all year long.  But here's the thing.  I am positive Mr. Murphy reported my rotten behavior to Mr. Salls on a weekly basis.  I wince when I imagine what Mr. Murphy said about me."

"What do you suppose Mr. Murphy said?"  

"I imagine it sounded something this," then changed my voice.

"I gave Archer a hundred chances to straighten up, but he refused to listen.  There are 220 students in the Upper School and no one talks to me like him.  This kid is the proverbial bad apple.  His behavior is totally unacceptable.  It sets a terrible example to other students to see how he behaves and I do not understand why you tolerate it.  I know his type.  He's going to say that no one ever cared about him.  I'm sorry, but I don't buy it.  It is impossible for me to care about a boy who is that selfish.  I say its too late to cure him with loving kindness.  What he needs is firm, consistent discipline and he never got it here.  My recommendation is that Archer be suspended."

"Yes, I know, Mrs. Ballantyne, and thank you.  But I also wish I could find a way to repay him for keeping me glued together.  If anyone can understand what I mean, it would be you.  On the day I graduated, I was a very disturbed young man.  You have no idea the depth of the problems I faced in college.  Although I managed to graduate from college without getting into any trouble, I suffered terribly from my emotional problems.  The loneliness was unbearable at times.

My memory of St. John's is what kept me going.  St. John's taught me to compete.  St. John's taught me to persist.  Based on my time at St. John's, I knew I had talent.  During my darkest days at Hopkins I clung to that thought like a life ring in the ocean.  Every time doubts of my value or my ability crept into my mind, I reminded myself that for nine years at St. John's I held my own with the best and brightest. 

Yes, I am successful now, but during my difficult college years, St. John's functioned like the North Star.  I knew if I could just find a way to solve my problems and gain some confidence around people my own age, I had a lot to offer.  But first how I was ever going to quit hating myself and the rest of the world so much?  During college, my problems seemed insurmountable." 

Mrs. Ballantyne nodded sympathetically.

"Considering how bitter you were, it is amazing to me you didn't end up in Montana writing a manifesto to justify why you decided to bomb innocent people.  I am so grateful you turned out differently than these young fools today who think their problems can be solved by hurting others.  Boo hoo hoo, so life is tough!  Get over it!  Instead these morons go to a school and murder defenseless children.  What does that accomplish?  Considering your troubles, how did you manage to come out okay?"

"I would never hurt St. John's like those monsters at Columbine.  I would not dream of it.  Like you said, St. John's gave me a fighting chance in life.  Hard work, persistence, ambition, desire for achievement.  St. John's taught me that.  Quitting was not an option.  It was the men who ran the school who made the difference.  Mr. Chidsey gave me a scholarship, Mr. Curran invited me to his home for long talks and now I find out that Mr. Salls trusted there was more to me than my awful behavior.  That probably explains why he took such a gentle approach.  Yes, I was a bitter kid, but not towards St. John's.  I loved my school with all my heart."

Mrs. Ballantyne nodded.  "I wish so much Charlie could be here today to hear you say that.  He would be so pleased to know he did the right thing to go to bat for you when you kept getting into trouble.  However, Charlie was not the only person who kept track of you."

"What do you mean?" I responded.   

"Charlie gave me the feeling that several people kept a close eye on you throughout your years at the school.  A good teacher always knows more than they let on, but they learn to keep a poker face about it.  In your case, I think Charlie Salls and several other instructors cared about you more than you ever knew.  However, they went out of their way to conceal how worried they were.  You were dealing with highly talented men and women who made St. John's a very special place.  They were deeply committed educators who believed their role went beyond merely imparting knowledge.  They wouldn't be any good at their job if they couldn't see how disturbed you were. 

People like Mr. Salls, Mr. Chidsey and Mr. Curran reached the conclusion that for you to make a contribution later in life, someone needed to intercede on your behalf.  Since your parents weren't getting the job done, they decided to handle things their own way.  Unfortunately Charlie was in a tough spot.  He could not show public favoritism in any way.  Nor could he hand you a crying towel.  That wasn't his nature.  He was a very reserved man who preferred to operate completely out of sight.  But there can be no doubt that Charlie cared deeply about you.  His actions make that clear."

"As always, Mrs. Ballantyne, I appreciate you.  Without what you told me tonight, I would have never realized Mr. Salls was the most important benefactor of my entire childhood."

Mrs. Ballantyne gave me a big smile, then Mrs. Ballantyne glanced at her watch. 

"I've enjoyed this talk, but it's getting late.  One more thing before I go.  You remind me so much of my brother George sometimes.  He said the exact same thing about Texas A&M giving him a fighting chance and look what he accomplished.  Good for him and good for you.  You know what, I have an idea.  Why don't you write a book about your years at St. John's?  You have quite a story to tell."

I smiled.  "You know what?  I might just do that someday."

My senior year blind spot
 

After Mrs. Ballantyne left, I thought long and hard about what she said.  Mrs. Ballantyne made it clear that Mr. Salls was far more aware of my home situation than I ever realized.  That surprised me greatly.  Face to face, over a four-year period Mr. Salls never once indicated any special interest in me.  That said, Mrs. Ballantyne suggested Mr. Salls made a point to watch out for me.  If that was the case, then all sorts of things began to make sense for the first time. 

Who let me off the hook when I cheated on my German exam? 

Who let me off the hook when I stole that gym equipment? 

Who gave me the German achievement award despite a serious accusation of cheating on the German test? 

Who allowed me to graduate despite an enormous unpaid bill?

Who kept a pit bull like Mr. Murphy from suspending me despite repeated snotty behavior?

Who else could it be?  Who else had that kind of authority?   It had to be Mr. Salls.

Mrs. Ballantyne's words kept flashing across my mind in bold letters.

"He took care of you..."

So now I asked myself how I could have missed this.  Not once in my Senior year did I think Mr. Salls had anything to do with arranging my scholarship to Hopkins. Not once in the past 40 years did I bother to revisit the clues that suddenly made sense for the first time.  Was it Mysticism?  Perhaps.  But there were also definite Realistic Reasons why I had been misled during my Senior year. 

mystery solved: my unknown benefactor
 

Do I have proof?  No, but I have a great deal of circumstantial evidence.  I believe each year Mr. Salls would recommend a student.  If the student was needy, Mr. O'Connor would turn around and make sure Hopkins would grant a scholarship.  Mr. Salls and Mr. O'Connor had probably done this with Doug in 1966 and Charles in 1967.  So who would their candidate be for 1968?  According to Mrs. Ballantyne, Mr. Salls already knew my precarious financial situation before my Senior year started.  I assume he picked up the phone and called his good friend Ralph O'Connor.  I imagine the conversation went something like this...

"Listen, Ralph, I have a very good student who is perfect for your school.  This young man has been with us for nine years and I know him well.  He has good grades, good SAT scores, and studies hard.  I am positive he can handle the academics at Hopkins.

In addition, this boy works his tail off.  I have information from Ed Curran, one of our teachers here, that this young man is really worried about college finances.  In fact, he has been working a grocery job after school for the past two and a half years due to trouble at home.  In all my time at St. John's, I have never heard of a student going to these lengths.

Confidentially, this boy has the most screwed up parents of any student we have ever had at this school.  There is no way this boy can afford to go to your school without a scholarship.  Do you think you can help him?"

Now that the veil of confusion had parted, I realized Mr. Salls had been involved from the start with my scholarship.  Imagine my chagrin to realize it had taken me 40 years to figure this out.  Until now, I never once guessed that Mr. Salls had secretly chosen to solve my financial crisis with help from his generous friend.  I also gained a further appreciation of Ralph O'Connor's clout at Johns Hopkins.  Over the years Mr. O'Connor had donated well over a million dollars to the school.  My guess is the school was more than happy to issue a scholarship to Rick Archer based strictly upon Mr. O'Connor's recommendation. 

How about a brief glimpse into the future?  The day would come when I became a Headmaster in my own right.  Granted a dance school is not quite the same as a college preparatory school, but with 1,400 dance students streaming through my doors per week, I had my fair share of headaches and challenges. 

Over the course of my 32 year career, an estimated 400,000 to 500,000 Houstonians visited my studio for dance lessons.  At one point, I believe we were the largest dance studio in America.   Along the way my dance school created a lot of happiness.  In addition to creating a vast network of friends, the studio helped foster 400 marriages as well.  Today at least 1,000 kids owe their lives to their parents' dance lessons. 

None of this would have been possible without the 1968 intervention of my Headmaster, E.K. Salls.  This has been the story of how a Simple Act of Kindness on the part of a very special man gave me a fighting chance to make something of myself despite a very troubled childhood. 

RICK ARCHER'S LIST OF SUSPECTED SUPERNATURAL EVENTS
DURING HIS SENIOR YEAR IN HIGH SCHOOL
 

Suspicious

Cosmic Blindness

Serious

Suspicious

Suspicious

Serious

Ultra-Serious

Ultra-Serious

Suspicious

Suspicious

Serious