Out & About KY Style… Bits n’ Pieces

Over the years I’ve experienced some interesting, and sometimes funny happenings I have encountered all the way back to my college days, first at Western Kentucky University and then the University of Kentucky.

Gary West is an author and News Journal columnist.

Anyone who has ever written anything probably has a story to tell of the experience. Writing a story about someone or something usually requires a bit of research. This can often turn out to be more interesting than the original subject matter. It can be compared to taking a trip to see something special only to discover more interesting things to see and do along the way.

With this in mind I’ve put together some memories beginning my freshman year in 1961, at Western Kentucky University. I was launching my journalism studies under Miss Frances Richards. She taught the only J-class there. She earned her masters degree with my grandmother several years earlier, so I had developed a good relationship with my teacher.

The day came when she informed the class we would be writing an editorial. “This is your opinion of the subject,” she said. “Anything you want to write about.”

Enjoying sports as I did, I decided to write my opinion that Western Coach Ed Diddle needed to consider retirement. He was an HOF coach, won over 1,000 games and had become the biggest legend in the school’s history.

My reasoning was simple. With two back-to-back 5-16 seasons, I thought it was a no-brainer to at least broach the subject in my editorial. I actually thought I had presented a good case.

Not so fast my friend.

The following class Miss Richards called on me to come to her desk.

“Gary, do you like being in school here at Western?” she asked.

“Of course I do,” I answered. “My dad brought me here in 1954 to see my first Hilltopper game. I love this school. In fact my nickname in high school was Western because of my name.”

“Gary, you can’t say these things about Coach Diddle. I suggest you give the assignment another try,” she directed while tearing my editorial into pieces and tossing it into the big metal trash can beside her desk. “Say hello to your grandmother when you see her.”

At UK I became heavily involved with the school paper, The Kentucky Kernel. In 1965 I was assigned as one of the daily sports editors. In other words I was responsible for the sports page one day a week.

I was told that in order to attend basketball practice, I needed to get Coach (Adolph) Rupp’s okay. I don’t know when I’ve ever been more nervous just calling the former coach on the phone. It was so bad for me I recall actually hoping he wouldn’t be in his office. No such luck. His secretary immediately connected me to him.

Coach Rupp sir, my name is Gary West, sir, and I’ve just been named daily sports editor at the Kernel, sir. And sir, I’d like to come to your practice, sir.

“That’s all right young man,” he said in the Kansas drawl as only he could. “But, don’t do what one boy did to me a few years ago. He asked if he could come to practice. I said yes you can. Well, he brought his whole fraternity with him.”

Being a basketball junkie, in 1966, Western was playing Eastern, only a few miles from Lexington where I was in school.

The Hilltoppers were loaded: Clem Haskins, the Smith brothers, and Wayne Chapman. Eastern was, too.

The game was a sellout in Richmond, but hey It was a ballgame and two of my first brothers headed that way in late afternoon. None of us had ever seen a game we couldn’t get into, sellout or not.

Finding friends who were students proved unsuccessful in locating three tickets. But we were not going to be denied. Locating a side door open to the Coliseum we quickly found our way to the men’s restroom. I took one stall while they each found one. It was well over an hour until doors were unlocked for the crowd to pour in. Then it would be an additional hour before the game started.

With my feet on top of the commode, whenever school employees checked the restroom for people like me, it was all clear. It was quite a wait just standing there and in complete silence. Finally, when we smelled the popcorn we were out of there. We were on a mission to see that game . . . and we did.

Everyone old enough remembers where they were on November 22, 1963, when word quickly spread that President John F. Kennedy had just been assassinated in Dallas. I was on my way to class strolling across UK’s campus when someone came running out of the journalism building screaming, “My God the President has been shot.” Suddenly the world stopped as we knew it. Everyone on the sidewalk stood in silence, not knowing if it was a joke or not. Crude jokes were heard from those not believing it. “One person ran up to me saying,” Now, I can date Jackie.” I know he later regretted it. Going to class was no longer a focus of mine, but getting back to my fraternity house was. Once there it seemed like the entire frat house was crammed into our downstairs T.V. room. Disbelief was everywhere and soon lots of tears followed.

This was a time before cell phones even existed. None of us had ever heard of one. I had to call home, but our end-of-the hall phones were in use. Others had the same idea.

Many of us headed back to our home towns.

Kentucky and Tennessee were scheduled to play football the next day. It was to be the last game of the season in a year of unfulfilled hopes for Kentucky. With a record of 3-5 it would have probably been better had the game been cancelled.

It was played.

Several of us drove back to Lexington from E’Town for the game. Our ride was somber, to say the least. We were just looking for something to take our mind off of just losing the President of the United States.

No one I know to this day remembers much about the 19-0 loss to Tennessee. I don’t remember seeing cheerleaders jumping around encouraging us to stand up and cheer. Normally each band would have strutted their stuff at halftime. Instead, I recall both bands joining together to play either our National Anthem or God Bless America. It seemed very appropriate.

While most UK fans sat in the Stoll Field stands to the bitter end, a bazaar thing happened.

Back in the day the two rivals played for a symbolic beer barrel. The winner kept it on their sidelines behind their bench. Kentucky had won 12-10 the year before, so the barrel set near a short wall separating the field from the crowd.

As the horn sounded ending the game, the Tennessee cheerleaders were on an all-out sprint from their side of the field to retrieve the beer barrel. At almost the same time one of our Sigma Chi pledges who happened to be a freshman team All-American on the UK Kitten team, reached over the rail, lifted the barrel and raced up the steps as the crowd for the first time all day had something to cheer about. At the top of the steps he handed the barrel off to another pledge, Charlie Fields from Ashland, Kentucky.

Now carrying the fifty-five pound wooden beer barrel, he was soon out on the Avenue of Champions, the main street in front of Memorial Coliseum and the football field, with six or seven orange dressed cheerleaders in hot pursuit.

What happened next was what I described as a near-miracle. The huge crowd that had emptied out of the stadium onto the street, parted to let pledge Fields through, and then quickly filling in behind him. The move blocked the UT cheerleaders from catching Fields, who short-cut his way through yards, parking lots and parks on his way to safety at the Sigma Chi House.

He made it, slipping in a side door where he placed the barrel in a “janitors closet,” and locked the door. Ten minutes later the Tennessee yell leaders came through the front door looking for their rightful trophy. We, of course, didn’t know anything about it.

The next day, Sunday, several of us E’town guys wrapped the barrel in a blanket, loaded it in a trunk and headed to Hardin County to show off our prize.

We kept it there for a few days, brought it back to Lexington, and when the basketball season rolled around made a big deal of presenting it to UT at halftime.

There’s no excuse, get up, get out and get going! Gary P. West can be reached at westgarypdeb@gmail.com.