More memories? Oh, yes

In my last posting, I riffed about going back to my alma mater — Fresno State — for the first time in decades. I was doing research in the campus library last Friday, and being there — on campus, that is — generated a whole lot of memories.

Well, I went back again today for more research, and, of course, that led to more remembrances that had been hidden away for decades.  So here they are — and if you decide to read them, I bet they’ll generate at least a smile or two.

Again today, I bought lunch in the student union and ate outside on the patio — something I did countless times during my four years on campus.  I thought about how my buddies and I had been there a half-century ago, in the exact same spot I was in today. But I also thought about what we had done inside the student union.

The main floor was then — and still is now — set up as a comfortable study area.  It was cool and quiet then — as it was today, when I walked through.  And, yes, students were there — as I had been, so many times — studying for finals.

But that floor could also be the site of raucous activity — as it was the night my buddy Albert and I went to see the legendary songwriter-performer Lightnin’ Hopkins electrify the giant crowd with his masterful guitar-playing.  Man, we were yelling and applauding.  Unforgettable.

Besides being home to the restaurant, the bottom floor of the union houses the campus bowling alley.  I walked into it, and because no one was bowling this noontime, I almost — almost — wanted to give it a try.  Again. You see, when I was an undergrad, I took a bowling class one semester (we had to take four semesters of PE back then).  I do believe that by the end of that semester, I was up to a 103 average or so.

I had much better luck with the golf class I took one semester.  Our teacher — Andy Anderson — was an old PE instructor playing out the string.  He was avuncular, and he was a delight.  I remember the only advice he ever gave us was to swing “smooth and smooth.” Well, at that time, I had been playing golf for at least 10 years, and, honestly, I was pretty good.  He saw that, and often had me “out front” of the class, demonstrating my own “smooth and smooth” technique.

When I wasn’t showing my college classmates the fine art of golf, I spent much of my time inside the speech arts and journalism buildings.  Journalism was where we learned how to write for print.  Speech arts was where we learned how to write and perform for broadcast. It was also the home of KFSR (Fresno State Radio).

When I had arrived on campus, I had no clue what I wanted to do.  My parents had wanted me to go to Cal Berkeley for a law degree. No chance.  No interest.  I wanted, maybe, to become a geography teacher like Mr. Bicknell at Hamilton Junior High. But then came the day — in my freshman year at Fresno State — when I walked by a door in speech arts that had a sign reading, KFSR.

And that was, as I recall, an electrifying moment.  Yes, I’m serious.  Here I was — having been a transistor radio “nerd” for years — having listened to the great rock radio stations KYNO and KMAK in Fresno during the week and the legendary weekend-long “NBC Monitor” on KMJ — here I was, in front of a radio station where I could make a mark and maybe a career.

So I became a disk jockey.   On my first day on the air — a Thursday afternoon 4 to 6 slot — I opened my mike and croaked (because I was scared gutless, you see — and I’d already sweat through my pullover and my underwear ) — “You’re on the go with Dennis Hart!”  It was horrible.  I was horrible.

But I loved it.  And I got better.  And then I started taking broadcast programming and journalism classes from this teacher named Bill Monson.  Bill had “been there” and “done that” in Armed Forces Radio.  He knew how to produce and write programs, including newscasts.

I did well in his first class — very well — so he called me into his office and told me something no one else ever had:  That I could “make it” in broadcasting.  And with that, he became my mentor, and eventually — along with his wife Polly — became  Sharon and my best friends for decades.  Yes, Bill got me into the “biz.”

Months after my disastrous first day on KFSR, I became Chief Announcer.  Then Sports Director.  Then News Director.  I spent hours each day at that station.  All for free. All for fun. Immense fun.

I got to announce Bulldog football, basketball and baseball.  Before baseball games, my fellow announcers and I would go to a wonderful restaurant on the southwest corner of Fresno Street and Shaw Avenue about a mile from campus.  I wish I could remember its name — but, brother, do I remember its food. Great sandwiches.  Wonderful, cold coleslaw.  And the frostiest glass of beer in Fresno.  (Yes, we had one beer — but only one — before the games.)

And announcing those baseball games at Beiden Field, live on KFSR, on those warm spring nights in April and May — unforgettable.  None of us ever wanted those games — those seasons — that time of our lives — to end.  It was that good.

Of course, there were other things taking place on campus at Fresno State then — and I got to cover them as news director.  We had a series of campus riots, similar to what was happening all across the nation — protests against the Vietnam War.  During one of those melees, a group of protesters invaded the speech arts building and started down the long hallway, past Bill Monson’s office and right toward the KFSR newsroom.

The rioters smashed everything in sight — including the half-glass door to Bill’s office. He jumped underneath his desk and hid.  There were three or four of us in the newsroom — and they were coming right at us.  We slammed the thick door shut — and put our bodies against that door as the rioters tried to demolish it to get to us. The door held — and we had a memory that would live as long as we did.

A few days later, another riot broke out during a demonstration in front of the North Gym on campus.  Hundreds of students were there, and fists and blood soon began flying.  Karen Humphrey of Channel 30 was a few feet off to my left, with her photog, Scotty Sherlock, beside her.  The fights began right in front of them.  In perhaps the greatest maneuver I’ve ever seen, Scotty — with his CP-16 camera on his left shoulder — grabbed Karen with his right arm — and lifted her out of harm’s way just as the violence broke out.  Man, was I impressed.

Karen later went on to become mayor of Fresno.  I hope she thanked Scotty for his actions that day.

Well, that’s almost enough about KFSR. Yes, I could write about the water-balloon fight that I had with Gary Copeland in the newsroom one Friday night.  Oh, what the heck.  I will.

Gary was one of my news guys. I was the news director.  We just decided to — well, have a water-balloon fight.  I found out, decades later, that the fight had become legendary in Gary’s family — something they remember to this day.

Gary went on from that night of wet fun to marry the young lady I helped introduce him to, and he became an outstanding and beloved broadcasting teacher at the University of Alabama. He was two years younger than me.  He suddenly and incomprehensibly passed away at the age of 60.  None of us could believe it then, and we still can’t.

One more story: When I was sports director at KFSR, I created something called the “Pigskin Pickers” contest.  I’d call up all the TV sports anchors in town and ask them to make picks on five or six of the weekend football games that were upcoming.  I’d record them as they made those picks.  They all loved it, and so did I, because I got to attend the fledgling San Joaquin Valley Sportscasters and Sportswriters lunch meetings that took place every Monday at the Hacienda.  Yes, I got to hob-knob with the town’s “big boys.”

I think you get the idea.  I loved my college years. I adored Fresno State.  It’s where I found my career, and that led to “finding” Sharon — because once I got my first TV job as a reporter at Channel 30 — she was a news story that I covered.

It truly was the best of times when I was a student there.  Thank you, Fresno State — for giving me so much fun, not to mention a career — and for giving me all these memories.