The "A Sad Day For Music In The City Of Lancaster" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Opened the Facebook page titled "Remember When In Lancaster" and began reading the entries for the past few days.  One entry which I came upon was a photograph that read..."Anyone remember the Crystalaires from Lancaster?"  A black and white photograph accompanied the sentence.  The Crystalaries were a group from Lancaster, Pennsylvania and were the hottest act in town back in 1959.

Then on May 25 of that year, while coming home from a gig in nearby Reading, PA, they were involved in a horrendous automobile accident.  The headline in the Lancaster Intelligencer Journal the following morning told the story; "7 In Rock & Roll Combo Catapulted From Car By Crash."  An explosive crash on the Oregon Pike in Manheim Township shortly after midnight killed three members of a teenage rock-and-roll band when they were catapulted from one of the cars.  Four other members of the band were seriously hurt.  The dead were identified as: Kenneth Gray, about 15; Louis Wilson, 19; and Lawrence Speller, 17.  All three suffered fractured skulls and died instantly.  Those injured were Harold Keys, 17; Lewis Burross, 16; Robert Ray; and Ralph Speller, 19.  The driver of the other vehicle, Logan Carpenter 49, had serious lacerations to the head and face.  The boys were driving south on Oregon Road to Lancaster when it went off the side of the road and while the driver was trying to gain control of the car, it went across the road and hit an oncoming car.  Speed was to blame in the accident.  The car exploded and burst into flames.  The promising career of these seven musicians ended in a ball of flames.  The Crystalaires were members of the local Crispus Attucks Recreation Center.  A short time before the accident they had taken first place in the Hempfield Sertoma Club amateur contest.  The manager of the combo was William Zimmerman of 414 N. Queen St.  The evening before the crash they had held a rehearsal at the rear of his home.  They were planning on a benefit dance the following month at the Stahr Armory with the proceeds going to the Lancaster County Society for Crippled Children and Adults.  Kenneth Gray, the youngest member of the band, had recently joined as a vocalist.  19 year old Lewis Wilson was married with three children ages 24 months, 11 months and one week.  Lewis was also a member of the Hamboners which made four appearances on the national amateur television show, The Ted Mack Amateur Hour, in 1953 and 1954.  Ralph Speller would have been eighteen the next month.  On May 29th another headline read "Driver Is 4th To Succumb in Rt. 222 Crash". Harold Keys, 17, died at 5:30 pm.  The fourth death made the accident the worst traffic accident in the past four years in Lancaster County.  Harold was not a member of the Crystalaires, but had volunteered to drive the band to Reading for an audition and to arrange for future bookings.  Harold was a sophomore at Lancaster McCaskey High School and worked part-time at a shoe-shine parlor and sang in the Bethel AME Church choir.  

The Crystalaires

This tragic accident took the lives of a group of talented young musicians.  Earlier in the evening the group had been informed by their manager that King Records, from Cincinnati, Ohio had offered them a record deal and wanted them to come to Chicago to re-cut "Nobody Nowhere" for national release.  In July of 1960, Stan Selfon of Stan's Record Bar in downtown Lancaster released the 2nd version of the tune on Sound Souvenir No. 1.  

Stan's Record Bar in downtown Lancaster, Pennsylvania

The money raised would go to the families of those killed in the accident.  It is not known how many of those recordings may still survive and record collectors drool at the site of one of these rare gems.  The photo that accompanies the released record ( as seen above)  is not the original group which lost most of its members, but the reformed Crystalaires. Only 2 of the latest group were members of the original group.  The two survivors were Robert Ray and Eddie Speller.  The same Eddie Speller who was a member of St. James Episcopal Church and was one of the Three Kings of Orient in the Christmas Pageant every here.  He, along with Dr. James Martin and my dad Paul marched down the aisle singing their respective verses.  And, boy could Eddie sing!  Who knew what might have been, had all of the original members weren't killed that tragic night.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "The Jersey Shore: One Last Look...Could It Really Happen?" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Picked up a copy of the "Seven Mile Times" during a recent visit to Stone Harbor, New Jersey to eat at our favorite Italian restaurant, Marabella's Family Restaurant.  Leafing through the newspaper when I saw the headline on page 64 that read, "One Last Look - Behind the Walls of Villa Maria by-the-Sea."  

Nun's Beach located in front of Villa Marie on Seven Mile Beach.

It was five years ago that I wrote a story about the Nun's Beach Surfing Compe- tition and our visit to Villa Maria.  As I read the article it told the story of the coming  destruction of the 80-plus year old landmark in Stone Harbor.  This house on the waterfront is so beautiful and I image it must be heartbreaking for the nuns to even think about tearing down a piece of Stone Harbor history.  

Villa Marie by-the-Sea

This place has been a "home" for many nuns in the past, but after reading the fiscal hardships that face the order, I can see why they might have to come to the conclusion of demolition and building a much smaller building.  The tradition of the sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary spending the summer months at the shore began seven miles north of Villa Maria in 1913 in Sea Isle City.  

View of the Villa Marie in the 1930s.

The family of Sister Kathleen Rowan offered the use of their spacious summer home in Sea Isle to be used by the order.  The spiritual invigoration provided by the summer escape to the shore by the order made them realize they should look for a larger place along the shore.  

Another view of Villa Marie in 1955.

They eventually purchased the Hotel Carlton in Cape May Point and that was home for the sisters for almost 20 years.  But, storms caused problems with that site and in 1936 they began to look at Stone Harbor.  They found a site adjacent to 111th and 112th Streets for $2,000.  Can you imagine buying a property on the beach for that price today!  But, it was a time of instability and during the Great Depression.  

Picture Postcard of Villa Marie by the Sea in Stone Harbor, N.J.

Groundbreaking took place February 2, 1937 with the nearest home being on 96th Street.  Villa Marie, with a construc- tion price of $125,000, became the second largest structure in Cape May County, behind the Flanders Hotel in Ocean City, NJ.  

Groundbreaking for Villa Maria on February 2, 1937.

When ground was broken it impacted many people who obtained a much needed job.  

Garden with Stations-of-the-Cross.

During the winter of 1937 as many as 300 workers worked on the project.  It was a "godsend" to the community.  Initially the house had only small rooms and a chapel with offices, dining room, kitchen, laundry and assembly hall.  Hey, you're at the beach!  That's all that's needed!  Today there are 185 rooms.  It was considered a miracle that the construction took only 118 days.  The funding to maintain Villa Maria comes from each convent in the order.  The sisters were given the chore of maintaining the building.  

Lancaster Catholic High School art teacher
designed this T-Shirt for Nun's Beach competition.

They did every chore from painting to cooking to maintenance and cooking.  Villa Marie houses about 130 sisters who  typically attend ten-day retreats.  Six days are devoted to liturgy, meditation and prayer while the other four days are free to socialize with family and friends.  The final decision hasn't been finalized as far as destruction of the Villa Marie.  Perhaps they have plans to rebuild another retreat that is less costly to maintain, but will still allow them to enjoy the rejuvenation they experience while visiting the shore every year.  I'm sure many await their coming decision.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "The Train Stops Here! - Part II" Story

It was an ordinary day.  My story today is a follow-up to yesterday's story about the Orphan Trains that ran the rails from 1854 to 1929 delivering orphan children to new homes throughout a few eastern cities and the Mid-West.  In 1953 the United States began surveying railroad lines to the Pacific.  Posters, flyers and advertisements were sent to Europe telling of the virtues of coming to America to get "free land."  Soon millions arrived on the shores of America, many with children they could not support.  Many children became orphans due to the situation, thus the need for the Orphan Trains that would take children from the east coast to points west.  I have read story after story of many of those children and what became of them.  Some stories were heartbreaking while others were inspiring.  Today I will re-tell a few of those stories so you can see what happened to those children who were orphaned and placed on the Orphan Trains, taking them to families they knew nothing about and who may or may not have their best interests in mind.  Can you imagine being a young boy or girl who was abandoned by their parents and sent by train to a new town miles away to never see mom and dad ever again.  Many didn't fare well, while others not only survived, but thrived in their new settings.

Charles Frederick
This little boy stepped off the Orphan Train in Rockford, Illinois with just the clothes he had on his back.  He spoke only German, but he had a card pinned on his jacket displaying his name and his age as 6 years old.  By day's end he was loaded into a covered wagon with other children who had been shipped west with him from New York City.  The orphan children were headed to Durand, Illinois where they would be parceled out to farm families.  

Charles Frederick

These children were no more than indentured workers.  Some of these kids were lucky and "given" to families who adopted them and treated them with love.  Charles was not one of those lucky few.  To his adopting family he was no more than someone to work on the farm.  Years later, Charles' son Franklyn told his dad's story to the world.  Charles went to the Lennons, a family that had come from Ireland in the 1850s and farmed 160 acres north of Durand.  The boy worked hard and attended a one-room school off and on for four years.  Frederick said his father never felt loved by the Lennons.  When Charles was 17 he ran away and ended up working for farmers around Shirland and Harrison and later to Rockford.  He married in 1911 and two years later moved to a house in Loves Park where he lived for 47 years.  His first job was at a tannery; later working for a lumber company.  In 1960 he and his wife moved to California.  He died at the age of 80 in 1962.  Charles may have been mistreated, malnourished and overworked, but his son never heard him talk about that.  Some children on the Orphan Trains must have certainly been abused, but it is estimated that half those orphans that were relocated lived a good life.

Paul Young
This story doesn't seem to start so good since Paul Young arrived in Clyde, Kansas on Friday, October 13, 1911.  Paul arrived from the east with 15 other children and adult placement agents B.W. Nice and Anna Laura Hill.  

Paul Young Clithero

The two adults were to arrange for good homes for the children.  Paul was "the tiniest little lad of 2 years with the auburn hair and the freckled nose."  Boyd and Louise Clithero of Concordia had motored to Clyde to attend the placement meeting and returned home with little Paul.  The family owned a grocery store in Concordia and gave Paul their family name and from that time was known as Paul Clithero.  Paul lived next to little Norman Lewis and they became best friends.  But, a year later Boyd, Louise and Paul moved to another part of town.  Paul was heartbroken, but he still got to see Norman from time to time.  He eventually attended Concordia High School and performed vocal solos for area clubs.   Paul and Norman's biggest adventure together was in 1927 when they decided to head down a local river in a canoe.  The canoe hit something in the river and sank.  They swam to shore and made it safely back to Clyde. Paul eventually served in the US Navy.  He never married and died in Leavenworth, Kansas on July 5, 1963.  He is buried in National Cemetery in Leavenworth.

Alice Bullis Ayler
One of the last three children to ride on one of the "Orphan Trains" in 1854 was eleven year-old Alice Bullis Ayler.  During the 1920s the citizens of New York City were enjoying the Jazz Age while an estimated 30,000 homeless children were wandering the streets, begging, eating out of garbage cans and sleeping in the alleys.  Alice, a resident of Oklahoma City recalled that she was orphaned at the age of nine.  Prior to that she and her mother and siblings were living in a tent in an upstate New York forest, surviving on "green water and berries."  

Alice Bullis Ayler (top right) and her family.

Alice was the oldest of five who had a younger sister sho suffered serious mental damage from successive bouts of whooping cough and diphtheria.  Alice's nickname was Toots, but her twin sister couldn't pronounce that name so they called her "Choo Choo!"  Her siblings were eventually sent to a home near the Empire State Building while she went to the Goodhue Estate on Staten Island.  She can still recall her siblings pleading..."Don't go away, Choo Choo!"  The Goodhue Estate treated her well and she was able to attend school.  A year or so later she was placed on an Orphan Train headed to Kansas.  The Stock Market crash had occurred the year before and the drought that would produce the Dust Bowl was just beginning.  She seemed to be caught in the middle...too old to be adopted, but not old enough to be on her own.  She was moved from family to family as a "hired hand without pay."  At the age of 17 she went to work for J.C. Penney and moved out on her own.  She married her high school sweetheart when she was 20.  They moved to Oklahoma City in 1950.  She had a son, but adopted a daughter to give her the love she never had as a child.  Her daughter Ann enrolled at the University of Central Oklahoma, but seemed to be so unhappy.  Alice tried her best to help her by reading psychology books, talking to doctors and trying to figure out some way to help her.  Sadly Ann died at the age of 39.  One of Ann's doctors told Alice she should enroll in college to complete the work she was hoping her daughter would one day accomplish.  In 1973, she completed work on a BA and then a Master's degree in education in 1977.  The worked for the Oklahoma City schools for several years.  She said her home was like a halfway house during her years in college and in public education.  She often talks about her experiences on the Orphan Train.  Only a few hundred remain with some still searching for family ties and seeking answers to the inevitable question "why"?  

By reading more I found that Alice has recently died.  She was one of many survivors of the Orphan Trains who made a success of their life.  I'm sure that when the program was developed in the United States it was meant to be a solution for homelessness, but didn't seem to turn out that way for many caught in its web.  Life isn't always easy, but at least I was blessed with a mother and father who loved me.  I was more fortunate than many who rode the Orphan Trains years ago. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.   

The "Total Destruction of Orient Beach: Part I - Past & Present" Story

It was an ordinary day.  I recently posted a few stories telling of the destruction caused by Hurricane Irma on the island known as Sint Maartten/St. Martin.  Well, the more I heard from friends and those living on the island, the more I fear it will never be the same for Carol and myself; particularly Orient Beach on the French side of the island.  Orient Beach has long been voted one of the top 10 beaches in the world and is even known as the St. Tropez of the Caribbean; and with good reason.  The water, beach, beach bars and total atmosphere make it one of our farorite beaches. I even found a video filmed with a drone that will show you the beach and surrounding area.  I have written quite a few times of the many beach bars known as the "Five Stars of Orient" which include: Coco, Kakao, Waikiki, Bikini and Kontiki.  I recently wrote a story about the oldest beach bar on Orient Beach known as Pedros.  Well, none of those places exist anymore!!  Irma took care of that.  I'm sure the resilient people of the island will someday revive all those favorite places, but it isn't going to happen overnight.  Certainly isn't going to happen by next spring when we are scheduled to return once again.  I guess we can only hope we will enjoy the beach as much as we have in the past.  Time will tell.  Below you will see a video of Orient Beach and then photos of what it now looks like.  I can't possibly say enjoy what has become of the beach, but perhaps after our visit next year I will be able to once again post a story with the "new" Orient Beach.  It was another extraordinay day in the life of an ordinary guy.



Photos taken after Hurricane Irma struck in September.

The "The Mystery: Who Destroyed My Mailbox?" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Tuesday morning and I had just returned home after working a few hours at Grebinger Gallery.  Pulled into the driveway and all of a sudden I saw it ... or I should say - Didn't see it!  

Who Did This?

My mailbox was missing; that was until I noticed it broken, sitting along the street.  Now this isn't just any mailbox, but a mailbox that came with the house and had the same cedar siding and paint stain that my house boasts.  And ... it was big.  Stood at least 4 feet high with a sloped top on it and numbers that glowed when your car's headlights struck it.  

LDub getting his daily mail.

During Halloween season it was home to a couple of ghosts that my wife had made and attached behind the top of it.  Then, when Thanksgiving approached, one ghost wore feathers on its head while the other wore a Pilgrim hat.  Not going to happen anymore.  Someone drove past the mailbox who was either drunk or on their phone and took out the large wooden mailbox.  They had to know they hit it, but there was no note nearby with a name or an apology on it.  Should I rebuild it or just buy a normal mailbox?  The cost to reconstruct it was too much and I had no promise that it wouldn't happen again, so I opted for a normal mailbox.  The wooden mailbox has some history to it.  On the first morning after moving into our "Beach House", my good friend and Manheim Township police detective Wayne arrived to pick me up to head to the school where I taught Industrial Arts so we could work on a coffee table for him.  

Our ghosts will finally disappear!

Dawn had just broken and it evidently didn't light up my driveway as well as it should have and Wayne backed right into my mailbox.  Knocked it into the street, but with no apparent damage.  We placed it back in its hole and headed off to school. Which makes me think that whoever hit my mailbox on Tuesday had to have really slammed into it.  Knocked it totally out of the ground and snapped off the four corner supports that held it in the ground.  Woman who works across the street at the dentist's office walked over to tell me she was so sorry and will miss the ghosts each fall.  Also told me no one in her office saw what had happened.  Oh, well.  Whomever did the dastardly deed will face up to their sin someday.  Karma, you know!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. 

The "Lancaster Storm Hits Hard" Story

It was an ordinary day.  No sooner finished yesterday's story about Hurricane Irma heading towards the Caribbean than a local violent thunderstorm/tornado warning was posted on my TV screen.  

Flower pots blown over and flowers destroyed.

Warnings telling me to seek shelter in the basement or lowest floor of my home.  Stay away from windows and make sure my family and pets are safe.  I had just hit the "enter" key on my keyboard to finish my story about Hurricane Irma when I heard it.  A crack that might have been a lightening strike on the hill about 50 feet behind my home in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.  Wasn't sure what it was at the time, but wasn't going to chance walking out the back door to check since the hail was close to the size of large cat's eye marbles.  

Carol's lilies were destroyed and blown into our pond.

When the rain and wind died down Carol and I looked out the back door and found just about every one of her very large and heavy flower pots had been toppled.  The entire planting of night-blooming day lilies was history as they had been blown into the pond.  Shortly the rain ceased and we ventured out to find a large branch of one of our walnut tree, about 30 feet long, had fallen to the ground while another shorter branch had fallen onto our ceramic garden sculpture and had knocked that over.  

One-half of one of the pine trees fell into my neighbor's
flower bed and across her driveway.

After further examination, Carol yelled to me, "You may want to come up here and look at this."  Wasn't really in the mood with all the other damage, but headed to the far south side of our property where we have five rather large pine trees along the edge of our property.  Seems that one must have taken a lightening strike, hence the loud crack, and had toppled across our neighbors beautiful flower bed and her driveway.  

Branches also fell from the grouping
of English Walnut trees that stand
in a grove on a hill above our home.

The tree is at least 40 feet in height and split at the base like someone chopped it in half.  One half still stood while the other half fell.  Just what I needed to find since I am struggling once again with my surgically repaired back.  Instantly knew there was no way I could handle the job and made a quick call to a former student who fertilizes my lawn in the sumer months.  We have lived at our "Beach House" for over 20 years now, but have never experienced the destruction that this storm produced.  But, in the whole realm of things, and thinking about our friends who live in Sint Maarten/St. Martin and in the direct path of one of the biggest Atlantic Basin hurricanes in history, this was a piece of cake, as the saying goes.  My family will help me with the clean-up and all will be fine once again in a very few days.  Just hoping that will be the case in the islands after the hurricane passes, but realizing that just isn't going to happen.  You think "Global Warming" has anything to do with all these weather patterns and historic storms?  Duh!!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of ordinary guy.  

The "A Father's Unbearable Grief" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Struggling with my thoughts today as I write this story.  This past Thursday I wrote a story of a young man who took his own life while in prison for the murder of three people; his best friend and his best friend's parents.  Throughout this terrible tale which began on May 12, 2007, I often thought about the parents and siblings of the boy who committed the crime, Alec Kreider.  I can remember Alec from his time in the Manheim Township Middle School and even though I never experienced him as a student, I do remember him from photographs I took of him for the school yearbook.  But, I never got to know the parents of Alec.  I'm sure they were just like myself and my wife in that they wanted the best for their son as he grew from childhood to become an adult.  But, in this case that didn't happen.  I feel sorrow for not only the boy but his parents.  He confided in his father about a month after the murders that he was the one who had committed them.  How awful his father must have felt.  I still get chills and tears in my eyes just thinking about it.  And, to have to turn your own son into the police ... well, I'm not sure I could have done that.  But, his father Tim did the absolute right thing.  I'm sure he has thought about that every single day of his life since that fateful day of June 16th, 2007 when he told the authorities about his son.  The few days that elapsed from the time his son told him until the day he talked to the police must have been unbearable, just as that month was for Alec when he told no one of his terrible deed.  Well, today I got to visit the internet site titled "Refuse To Drown" and read the father's heart-wrenching story which led from the day his son told him of the murders till the day he was notified of Alec's death.  The Blog post tells the story of a young, troubled boy who loved animals and enjoyed spending time with his family.  What follows is the text that Tim wrote in his blog.  Tim's website: "Refuse To Drown- A Father's Unthinkable Choice" can be found at: www.refusetodrown.com and you may care to visit it.  Tim has co-authored a book about his experiences which no one should have to ever go through.  May both Tim and his son Alec be at peace now!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

On January 20, 2017, in a small quiet cell, alone and desperate, the life of my son Alec Kreider came to a tragic end. There are many who will say and believe that he got what he deserved, good riddance or it’s about time.  Alec committed a horrible crime and took so much away from an innocent family and that certainly is part of who Alec was and part of his story.  It simply isn’t the entire story. There was another side to Alec.  He was a loved son, grandson and brother.  He wasn’t always angry, desperate and lost in the wasteland of depression and anger.  He was a beautiful baby boy born with ears too big for his head and eyes that didn’t quite work right.  But he was still beautiful to us. Eventually, he grew into his ears and after a couple surgeries and eye glasses he learned to deal with his eyes.  He became a small child with a huge grin, big dimples and bright eyes behind those eye glasses.  He loved to play with legos and his nerf guns.  He played in the snow, ran in our yard and road in his big foot truck.  He was an innocent child simply enjoying life.  Like almost all small children, he was scared of the dark and “monsters” under his bed and would wake me to tell me he had a bad dream.  He loved animals and would curl up on the floor with our family dog or chase him around the house.  One time when our kids wanted to watch a “scary” movie, we rented The Creature from the Black Lagoon.  Alec was maybe 10 or so and after the movie I asked him if he thought it was scary.  He said not but when I went upstairs to tuck him in, every light in every room in the house was on. I guess it was a little scary.  He had a bright and quick mind, which at times made him a challenge.  He wasn’t one to take “because I said so” as a good enough reason to do something.  He was determined and strong willed.  Attributes that should have served him well in life.  There were so many hopes and dreams for his future and the life he would have.  The possibilities seemed endless.  As he grew older he became a handsome young man who valued honesty and integrity and he simply didn’t understand why so many things in the world were so messed up.  He so wanted things to be better and different.  One of my fondest memories is when we watched a John Pinette video together.  John Pinette was a comedian and Alec, his younger brother and I watched and laughed so hard our sides hurt.  They were big belly laughs, we were, at that time, happy, enjoying life and for the moment free of any worries or concerns.  Unfortunately, somewhere along the journey, a darkness fell over Alec. It was something he struggled with every day.  All he wanted was for the pain, hurt and anger to end.  He tried so hard but yet the darkness would not leave him.  The bright eyes of his early childhood became dim and darker.  That small child with the big dimples and the joy for life was lost deep inside the anger and desperation he felt.  He was not the “monster” so many want to simply right him off as.  He did something monstrous, but that is only part of Alec.  To label him as such and not make an effort to understand the deeper story is the easy way to discard him and his life.  Alec loved and wanted to be loved.  Alec desperately wanted his life to be different.  He had hopes and dreams for his life and future and they were lost to the darkness and where it led him.  He was hurting and unable to conquer the inexplicable darkness that was a constant part of his every day.   He didn’t understand or know why he felt the way he did and why, no matter what he did, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t able to overcome the darkness and anger.  Alec wanted, with all of his being, for his life to be different, to be free of the torment he endured and had lived with for so long.   I encouraged him constantly to not give up, to keep trying, to believe that things could and would get better.  Some days he was hopeful and other days he was hopeless.  Unfortunately, the hopelessness proved to be too much to endure.  Alec was my son, his life did matter, he was loved and he will be missed.  May he finally rest and be at peace.