1967, Lowry Air Force Base in Aurora, Colorado (a Denver suburb). I was there to attend Air Force Intelligence training. One of my roommates was there to train as a Precision Measurement Equipment Laboratory Technician.
He was Bernard B., a hayseed of German ancestry from a farm in Northwest Texas, near Umbarger...Buddy Holly country. He could play an expert guitar but he couldn't dance. I was something of a naive youngster myself and we both had a humor streak that was slightly left of center so we became fast friends.
There was a famous country and western club in Aurora called the Zanzibar (which was later made famous in the Clint Eastwood movie, "Any Which Way But Loose"). It was also fairly popular as a spot where a whitewall haircut Airman might have a few dances and a date with a local babe. Ben, six-four or thereabouts, didn't know how to dance so I taught him a few steps of the Foxtrot which we later learned could be easily adapted to "The Cowboy Shuffle". This presented a fairly comical picture for the rest of the Airmen in the dorm and likely for patrons of the Zanzibar as we later tried to hoof it with others.
One evening we had hit the Zanzibar with no success but weren't ready to call it a night so we stopped at a small bar further down East Colfax street. The bartender was pretty friendly and there weren't many people in the place so we raised hell and joked with her until closing. As we walked toward Ben's car in the parking lot, we noticed a Jaguar convertible blinking it's lights at us. We approached; I got there first and noticed it was the bartender. I asked, "What's up?" and she said, "Not you. Him." They took off and I drove Ben's car home that night.
It turned out she bought the Jag off an insurance settlement after her husband died. She also had a young son. Not long thereafter they got married and Ben was assigned to Wheelus Air Force Base in Tripoli, Libya. We lost touch for a while but a couple (few?) years later I heard from Ben. He had come home one day to catch the bartender in an affair with a senior NCO. While he was arguing with the NCO, the bartender went at him from behind and Ben kicked back. Later that day they both filed assault charges against him.
The next day he found himself in front of the Judge Advocate General, a Colonel B - they too argued and Ben told him to "kiss (his) ass" whereupon the judge smashed his cigar down in his ashtray and said, "Sergeant, I could have every stripe on your shoulder!" Ben asked if that meant he could go back to Texas and start "farmin" again and the Judge said, "Yes." Ben responded, "Then no problem!" The Judge said he wouldn't do that because of Ben's "great service record."
As a result, Ben left with an honorable discharge after a four year stint. He returned to the Amarillo, Texas area and became a helicopter electronics technician at a plant there. He also spent a fair amount of time working out his anger on the streets by engaging in many fighting adventures.
He got pretty bored with that life so he went to college at Texas State University, San Marcos where he majored in German. It was noteworthy that he also served as an orderly at a mental institution. He worked there with a Japanese pal and fellow student named Yoshio. Among other things, they learned to pretend to be martial arts experts so they could scare the patients into thinking they would be in big trouble if they didn't behave. Ben and Yoshio were so poor they lived in a tent on the river for six months of that time - no problem though as that lifestyle was thought of as fairly fashionable during the late 60's and early 70's.
Ben graduated Phi Beta Kappa and was accepted into the Law program at the University of Texas, Austin. After graduating, he received a Fullbright fellowship and spend a year completing comparative studies in German and American Law in Heidelberg, Germany. Next, Ben took up private practice in San Antonio, Texas where he remains actively engaged today. It is noteworthy that over the years he has hosted and trained several hundred law interns from Germany... much about law and much about how to survive margaritas on San Antonio's famous Riverwalk.
Shortly after arriving in San Antonio Ben met a Biology major and former Peace Corps volunteer, Cindy and they were later married. Cindy is one of the very few people on the planet who can accommodate Ben's self-styled adventures in law, music, frequent business travels to Germany and his love for dogs.
Fifteen years ago, almost to the day, he noticed a Jack Russell terrier on the street in front of the old San Antonio courthouse. He saw the dog wanting to get back into a car and as it drove away someone in the back waved goodbye. Ben drove up and noticed the dog sitting there in a blue and white bandanna looking pretty distressed so he opened his door and said, "Jack, let's go home."
Ben had to get out to pick Jack up who at that point had just laid on his back with his feet up in the air. After about a week of walking with him in the morning and evening and coming home to eat lunch with him Ben had to go to Amarillo as his Mom was deathly ill. He returned a few days later and Jack acted like it was Christmas morning. For the remainder if his life, Jack followed Ben around from room to room in their home every day, even in his last months when he would fall down and sometimes drag his back feet.
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My friend Ben and his dog Jack
April, 2010 |
As he got older Jack would sit with Ben for a while, then go sit with Cindy. Often, they would see him playing with a tennis ball by himself, throwing it in the air, catching it and throwing it again. When they walked, Ben would just follow Jack where he wanted to go, and often there was a little female dog as his destination. One day after about 4 blocks the encountered a cute little dog. He sat about 15 feet from her, and slowly...a foot or two at a time moved closer to her. Finally when he got right next to her she growled at him - he ran back to Ben in fright and disappointment and they went on.
Jack quickly became a full blown family member. Over the years Ben and Cindy bred him, keeping some of Jack's children and grandchildren, ultimately accumulating a half-dozen or so terriers in their sprawling Olmos Park home.
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Every November, the San Antonio Beethoven Choir sings, some trombonists play and some prayers are said for the 135 German, 4 Italian and 2 Japanese soldiers buried at Fort Sam Houston. They all died in Texas POW camps in 1944 and 1945. Ben gives the accompanying speech in tribute to these soldiers. To honor Ben and thank him for his service, the chiefs at Fort Sam have offered to bury him in that same old section.
Last Saturday, on the fifteenth anniversary of his Mother's passing and of his discovery of Jack, Ben called to tell me that he finally had to have the good old dog put to sleep. He figured Jack had made it to eighteen years of age. He said he was going to have Jack cremated and they were going to be buried together at Fort Sam Houston one day. Knowing his capacity for love and loyalty as I do, I believe him.
I am proud to call this old Hayseed from Umbarger, Texas my friend and I will be swilling a glass of wine or two in Jack's memory.
Note: this will be the first (maybe the last)
