WE MEET AGAIN

2009

Maria Ballantyne shares a story
 

Christie Ballantyne graduated three years behind me at SJS.  In January 2009 Christie asked for a series of private lessons to learn Swing dancing.  The lessons included his wife Yasmine as well as his sister Katina and her husband Gil Jackson.

One night I had a surprise guest.  Gil and Katina could not make the lesson, so Mrs. Ballantyne came instead.  Seeing the look of surprise on my face, Mrs. Ballantyne had the biggest grin.  Recovering quickly, I exclaimed how happy I was to see her and gave her a big hug.  Sitting on a couch, Mrs. Ballantyne watched as I spent the next hour teaching Christie and Yasmine. 

During that time, I think various memories related to our 1968 parking lot meeting passed through her mind.  I say this because Mrs. Ballantyne was practically bubbling over with things to tell me when we finally got a chance to speak.  Towards the end of the lesson I asked Christie and Yasmine to practice on their own so I could go chat with my illustrious guest.  They were kind enough to give us time for a lengthy conversation.  As I sat next to her on the couch, Mrs. Ballantyne reached for my hand.  I was so happy to see her.  There was a definite fondness between us. 

Now we began to chat.  Or should I say Mrs. Ballantyne began to chat?  She always did 98% of the talking.  Mrs. Ballantyne brought up the issue of Katina's Jones Scholarship.  She repeated exactly what she had told me forty years earlier in the parking lot.  Mrs. B said the task of sending seven children to expensive private schools and colleges was overwhelming.  She was forced to constantly scrounge for any financial aid assistance to make ends meet, adding how hard it was to convince people that her family was often strapped for cash.   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.  I get it.  Without scholarships, your children had no way to attend St. John's and then college. Everything you told me that day made complete sense."

Mrs. Ballantyne smiled and said she was grateful I understood.  Knowing how much I had counted on getting the same scholarship that went to Katina, I think she felt kind of guilty.  However, I told her not to worry, everything worked out just fine. 

Mrs. Ballantyne replied, "Back in the old days I knew you without knowing you". 

I assumed she was referring to the 4th and 5th Grade when my locker was located next to the Commons Room.  This was the area where she met her lady friends for afternoon tea and coffee.  This was a daily feature at St. John's.  I was so fascinated with Mrs. Ballantyne's outsized personality that I would stop and stare at her like a movie star.  Apparently my hero worship had not gone unnoticed.  Mrs. B 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. B ever missed a thing. 

"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 young 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?"

Mrs. Ballantyne changed the subject.  She started by saying, "Back in the old days I knew you without knowing you".  Mrs. B was referring to the 4th and 5th Grade when my locker was next to an area known as the Commons Room.  This was where she met her lady friends for afternoon tea and coffee.  I had been so fascinated with her outsized personality that I would stop and stare like she was a movie star.  Apparently my hero worship had not gone unnoticed.  Mrs. Ballantyne said she occasionally noticed a young boy who seemed to be studying her from a corner of the room.

She gave me a grin and asked, "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.  I felt very drawn to you in the parking lot, but I wasn't sure why.  I have long wondered 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 fervently wished I could have a mother like you instead of her."

Mrs. Ballantyne smiled, but did not comment, probably to spare my feelings.  I think she noticed the tears in my eyes.  I wanted to add 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 personal.  Fearful she might laugh at me for suggesting God might have guided her to me, I stopped there.  In Hindsight, I wish I had said something.  I would have been fascinated to learn her reaction.  However, 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, like I said, I did not realize until after our parking lot talk was finished that you were probably the same person.  That memory is what got me thinking tonight.  I seem to recall there was a high school boy who never failed to glance directly 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 continued into high school.  Every now we would pass each other in the hallway going 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. Ballantyne 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.  You thought I didn't notice you, but I did.  Although I did not know anything about you, I could always 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.  When you took my groceries to the car, I was certain I knew you from somewhere.  Then I noticed you had on the St. John's uniform, so I took a chance and asked.  When you told me how you felt like an outsider looking in at St. John's, you reminded me so much of my own problems growing up.  I had great compassion for you because I led a lonely and very stressful life as a teenager."   

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

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

My ears perked up.  "My friend Charlie..."  Oh my God!  Did I really hear what I thought I heard?  My Headmaster's full name was Elwood Kimble Salls, but "Charlie" was the name his friends called him.  

"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 wider.  Her living room?  I had suspected that Mrs. Ballantyne and Mr. Salls knew each other pretty well, but I had no idea they were this close.  This was quite a revelation.  I was stunned to discover my two childhood heroes were best friends in their private life.  My heart began thumping so hard it nearly popped out of my chest. 

"As we sat on the couch, 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 how he had heard from one of your teachers that your home situation was pretty miserable."

I was astonished.  This was the first time I realized that Mr. Salls had taken a personal interest in me.  To be perfectly frank, I made an ass of myself in my Senior year.  In addition to the cheating episode, I was in trouble all year long with an administrator named Mr. Murphy.  He was constantly chewing me out over infractions such as lateness to class, being out of uniform, and failure to get haircuts promptly when ordered.  Feeling resentful, I never failed to argue.  I probably set a record that year for most visits to Detention Hall.  Although I had no direct contact with Mr. Salls, I assumed he knew what was going on.  No doubt he was fed up with me, especially after the cheating episode.  However, as Mrs. B spoke of Mr. Salls' warm regard, I was starting to wonder if I had misjudged him. 

I listened with fascination as Mrs. Ballantyne described her friend to me.  Although Mr. Salls passed away long ago, she carried a deep fondness for the man.   Mrs. Ballantyne called "Charlie" a "softy" and marveled at "how down to earth he was". 

When Mrs. Ballantyne spoke, she revealed a warm side to my Headmaster I was never privileged to see.  I had to smile.  Mr. Salls had always seemed very stern, very remote.  I was certainly scared to death of him.  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 the students seriously. 

I had to laugh.  Who would have ever guessed Mr. Salls was a softy!  However, from my own observation I agreed he was "down to earth".  There was nothing phony about Mr. Salls.  For that matter, "down to earth" was the same phrase I 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 full of wealthy, self-absorbed people.

I marveled at the things Mrs. Ballantyne told me.  This was the first time anyone had ever said a word 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.  

Mrs. B went on to explain why Mr. Salls was interested in me.  Apparently his childhood had been remarkably similar to mine.  This comment absolutely floored me.  As an aside, Kim Salls Jr, son of Mr. Salls, contacted me in 2015 after reading my Internet story about his father and Mrs. Ballantyne.  By sharing intimate details of his father's difficult childhood, Kim confirmed everything Mrs. Ballantyne had told me during this meeting.  I was amazed to learn Mr. Salls was an only child who lost his father to illness and had worked after-school jobs to help his struggling mother. 

Kim Salls added that his father regarded his scholarship to Harvard as the luckiest break of his life.  Coincidentally that was the same thing Mrs. Ballantyne had said about her own college scholarship.  Considering the same went for me, how weird was this situation?  It was unnerving to realize how much I had admired Mr. Salls and Mrs. Ballantyne all those years without the slightest idea they had struggled in childhood just as much as me.  It was like some intuitive part of me recognized kindred spirits.  Given their humble origins, it was only natural they would be drawn to one another.  But how did they discover their similar background?  Maybe they were drawn to each other by a similar intuition.  I could not help but notice how the three of us appeared to share a strong spiritual link.

During my St. John's days, Mr. Salls and Mrs. Ballantyne had been 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 now it made sense.  I had seen them walk side by side many times in the SJS hallways.  In fact, Kim Salls told me the Salls family and Ballantyne family had neighboring beach homes in West Galveston.  Surprise after surprise after surprise.  

When Mrs. Ballantyne returned to the subject of the Jones Scholarship, it was time for the biggest bombshell of all.  She mentioned that Mr. Salls had spoken to her about his decision to give the award to Katina. 

"Mr. Salls understood it would be difficult for 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 paying attention.  Trust me, I listened intently as she revisited this ancient wound.

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

I froze upon hearing those words.  "He took care of you..."  "You"... meaning 'Me'.   My mind began spinning.  "What do you mean, Mrs. Ballantyne?  How did Mr. Salls take care of me?"

"He arranged your scholarship to Johns Hopkins."

 Seeing my mouth drop to the floor, Mrs. Ballantyne exclaimed, "You didn't know that?"

Too stunned to speak, I slowly shook my head to indicate my bewilderment.  Finally I spoke.

"Mrs. Ballantyne, I had no idea Mr. Salls had anything to do with my Hopkins scholarship."

Mrs. Ballantyne smiled.  "Charlie knew about your father from things your teacher friend Mr. Curran had told him.  He anticipated you were going to have trouble getting a scholarship, so he took matters into his own hands and called his old friend Ralph O'Connor..."

Unfortunately, that is where the conversation ended.  Christie and Yasmine had been kind enough to give us almost 30 minutes, but now they came over to say it was time to go.  Mrs. Ballantyne and I rose from the couch.  After a long farewell hug, I felt great regret as I watched her leave.  Typical Mrs. Ballantyne.  As usual my much-admired friend had shared some truly astonishing revelations only to leave me hanging with a million unanswered questions.

2009: mystery solved

My senior year blind spot
 

Thanks to an off-hand word from Mrs. Ballantyne, I realized Mr. Salls and Mr. O'Connor had planned my scholarship together. 

After my visit with Mrs. Ballantyne, I thought long and hard about what she said.  I saw Mr. Salls every day for three years in German class.  Not once had he indicated any special interest in me.  That said, Mrs. Ballantyne had made it clear that Mr. Salls was aware of my home situation and made a point to watch out for me.  That surprised me greatly.  If that was the case, then all sorts of things began to make sense for the first time. 

Now I knew why Mr. Salls had insisted I apply to Johns Hopkins at the start of my Senior year.  When Mr. Salls realized I was not at all interested in this school, he more or less ordered me to apply.  I remember exactly what he said.  "Please do this as a favor to me."

After agreeing to follow his request, I left his office infuriated.  I did not want to go to a men's school and I did not want to waste my grocery store money on a needless application.  Now I understand why Mr. Salls had insisted.  He had secretly arranged for me to receive a scholarship, but it wouldn't do me much good unless I got accepted at Hopkins ahead of time. 

Why didn't I catch on back when it mattered?  I cannot begin to explain how stupid I felt now that Mrs. Ballantyne had explained what was going on behind the scenes.  It bothered me no end to realize I had missed such an obvious clue.

Given that Mr. Salls knew I was in precarious financial trouble before my Senior year even started, I suppose he picked up the phone and called his good friend Ralph O'Connor. 

"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 my veils of confusion had parted, I could see that Mr. Salls had his fingers all over my scholarship.  Imagine my chagrin to realize it had taken me 40 years to figure this out.  Thank goodness Mrs. Ballantyne had opened my eyes.  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.  Given that Mr. O'Connor was the leading donor in the history of Johns Hopkins, the school was more than happy to issue a scholarship to Rick Archer based upon his recommendation. 

One by one the tumblers fell into place.  Now I knew why Ralph O'Connor was satisfied with my 5-minute explanation of my financial problems.  Mr. Salls had already filled him in, so all I did was confirm what he already knew. 

Mrs. Ballantyne's words kept flashing across my mind in bold letters.  "He took care of you..."

Now I knew why Mr. Salls had overlooked my cheating mistake.  With that on my record, there was a good chance Hopkins or Mr. O'Connor would have refused to extend the pre-arranged scholarship. 

Now I knew why Mr. Murphy's threats to suspend me for repeated disciplinary infractions never came to pass.  Here again Mr. Salls did not want that on my record, so he told Murphy to stand down.

Now I knew why Mr. Salls had given the Jones Scholarship to Katina.  He was saving a much larger scholarship for me. 

I was very pleased to finally get answers to situations that had bothered me for all these years.  However, in the process, now a new mystery appeared.  How could I have missed all of this? 

2009: mystery solved

MURPHY'S CURSE
 

Sensing the seriousness of the moment, I asked, "Did they threaten you?"

My mother winced.  "Of course they did, Richard.  Several times.  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 say?  Repeat that, please."

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, why did she fail to inform me?  Holding my temper 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 that the bill collector was just bluffing."

I shook my head in consternation.  Is my hapless mother incapable of doing anything right?  What if the bill collector had been serious?  She should have warned me so I could evaluate the threat.  As it stood, I had participated in the ceremony unaware that I risked being removed by a security guard.  Considering my Senior year had been one prolonged nightmare, it would have been a fitting end 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.

This was unacceptable.  Only my idiot mother would take the chance of setting me up for humiliation without a word of warning.  Livid, I grabbed the bill and stomped upstairs to my room.  To be honest, I thought the threat was real.  In that case, why was I spared?  Or maybe there was a better question.  Who had the authority to countermand the threat?  Mr. Salls, of course. 

Alone in my room, the thought that I had been spared upset me terribly.  For the past several weeks, I had been unable to get 'Murphy's Curse' out of my mind.  Let me explain.  As the pressure mounted during my Senior year, I turned into a sullen, hostile kid.  I became a serious discipline problem.  No one could tell me what to do, no one could reach me.  Over the past two years, I had engaged in weekly arguments with Mr. Murphy, Dean of the Upper School.  We fought over rules such as the length of my hair, running in the hall, late to class, out of uniform, etc.  Most of all we argued about my surly attitude and my glaring lack of respect for him.  Due to my mother's inability to keep a job, long ago I had been granted a full scholarship.  Mr. Murphy had a hard time accepting the worst kid in the school was attending for free.  Looking back, I can definitely see his point. 

Mr. Murphy finally reached the point where he could no longer contain his disgust.  On the eve of graduation, Mr. Murphy pulled me aside.  Staring darts at me, he delivered the sternest lecture of my life.

"Richard Archer, your continued insolence is disgraceful.  You think disobeying me is amusing, but I have something to tell you.  You have brought dishonor to this school.  Your continued disregard for the rules is unforgivable.  Let me add your ongoing impertinence towards me has demonstrated a total lack of respect for my authority. 

If I had my way, you would have had your scholarship revoked long ago.  You don't deserve it.  In my opinion, you should have been sent packing years ago.  You do not belong here at this school.  Your lack of discipline makes it clear that you do not respect the gift that has been given.  You should be ashamed of yourself for your glaring absence of gratitude.

Mark my words, I predict you will one day regret you failed to learn your lesson.  You will leave here thinking you are too superior to follow the rules, but I have news for you.  Someday you will learn the hard way that you are not as clever as you think.  You will argue with the wrong person and it will cost you more dearly than you can ever imagine.  At that time, you will remember me."

Mr. Murphy's warning struck home.  I was so shaken by his venom, for the first time all year I did not talk back.  Instead I watched in subdued fear as he stomped off.  Truth be told, I was stunned at how badly Mr. Murphy's wrath had hurt me.  Sad to say, the man was right.  My behavior had been unacceptable.  Painful as it was to admit, I was a very badly damaged young man.  So why didn't they punish me as I deserved?  It made no sense, but time after time someone had let me off hook, probably Mr. Salls. 

Here is what scared me.  Given how disturbed I was, how would I have reacted if Mr. Salls had let Murphy lower the boom?  Spare the rod and spoil the child.  I shuddered to think.   It seemed very strange that a school known for its ironclad discipline had treated me with kid gloves.  Nevertheless, given how fragile I was, in my heart I decided the leniency had probably been the right choice.  At that moment, I broke down and cried.  Why had Mr. Salls given me such a break?  At the time it seemed so out of character for him.  There could be only one answer.  I believed Mr. Salls knew me better than my nemesis Mr. Murphy.  Mr. Salls knew that I was actually a decent kid, albeit a deeply unhappy one.

My gaze returned to the unpaid bill.  Now that I had officially graduated, the threat was gone.  More than likely, St. John's would have great trouble collecting.  As they say, get in line.  Tough to squeeze blood out of a turnip.  Was I responsible for paying this bill?  No, not legally.  This was my mother's problem.  However, how could I ignore the fact that St. John's had given me the finest education imaginable "for free"?  I felt morally obligated to set things right.

The next morning I drove to the SJS business office and cleared the debt using my grocery store savings.  I winced as I watched 140 hours of grocery store work go down the drain.  With a deep appreciation for the irony of the moment, I had a grim smile as I left.  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.  No doubt I was 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 a poignant 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 imagine they were glad to be rid of me.  Who could blame them?  Cheating on a test, tormenting Mr. Murphy with my belligerent arguing, surely I had worn out my welcome. 

However, when Mr. Murphy berated me for my 'glaring absence of gratitude' during his nasty  'Murphy's Curse' reprimand at the end of the year, he was wrong about me.  I was as loyal as any student who ever graduated.  Underneath my rebellious exterior, I nursed a burning desire to express my gratitude to the school.  Today I had paid my financial debt.  Someday I hoped to repay my spiritual debt as well.  The only reason I survived my difficult childhood somewhat intact was due to the guidance of many well-meaning St. John's teachers.  St. John's had given me a fighting chance.  For that reason, the color of my blood would be Red and Black in perpetuity.