Larry with Charlie Hoyt on the Piano

This past week I received a call from my oldest daughter, Megan. She and Patrick were thirty miles from West Point and were on their way there for a visit. She wanted to go visit the place where her old Dad had been incarcerated for 4 years. I really think she is still trying to figure out what caused me to be the way that I am, kind of grumpy and mean. She is such a nice person and I wish everyone could get to know Megan, because she can definitely lighten up your day just by being around her. It is obvious to me that she inherited most of her personality from her Mom and not her grumpy old Dad. Anyway, this phone call got me to thinking about my old Alma Mater.

"Hail, Alma Mater dear, To us be ever near, Help us thy motto bear Through all the years."

One of the things that I enjoyed about West Point was getting away from there during my Senior year on Saturday nights and going to Poughkeepsie (we didn't have privileges to leave the post until our senior year). A few of us had discovered a place called Frivolous Sal's Last Chance Saloon, which became a regular hangout during my senior year. It was probably what most decent folks would call a "dive" and was situated in an old movie theater. The Last Chance was an extremely friendly place that seemingly always had live music. The music was a blend of jazz, folk and a little rock. Pete Seeger often played there and the atmosphere was always lively, which was a more than welcome relief from the dull and mundane life of a Cadet. We were very fortunate to get to know the owner, who always greeted us by name and often bought us a beer. He jokingly told us that it was nice to have some clean cut All-American boys come by to give the place an air of respectability. I just remember how nice he treated us every time we came in.

"Let Duty be well performed, Honor be e'er untarned, Country be ever armed, West Point, by thee."

As the years fly by and I grow older and older, I often wonder how I ever managed to put up with four years of that place. Don't get me wrong, I was not disenchanted with the place 100 percent of the time. I do have fond memories of many old friends and there were times when I actually enjoyed myself. I can remember that first day at West Point almost as if it were yesterday. In late June of 1971, my folks drove me out to my prison for the next 4 years and dropped me off at the Thayer Gate. Then, I boarded a bus for a trip into the most chaotic day of my life and thus began my sentence. For the next eight weeks I was constantly harassed by upperclassmen and I kept wondering just what have I done to deserve this. The end of the summer brought the academic year for us Plebes and now we had the harassment and the academic responsibilities combined. Physically and emotionally, the place beat you up day to day and I wouldn't place a bet on any one person making it through. Something powerful has to motivate a person to take that kind of abuse for four years and I'm not sure what really motivates people to do it.

"Guide us, thy sons, aright, Teach us by day, by night, To keep thine honor bright, For thee to fight."

Academically, I was totally unprepared for what lay ahead of me and by the second month of my first year, I was in danger of flunking out because of calculus. We took calculus 6 days a week (one would think that would be enough for anyone to catch on) and each day I fell further and further behind. Fortunately, I had an instructor who took me under his wing and tutored me to proficiency. Besides being an extremely patient and determined individual, Major Peterson, had to have been a genius and one of the world's greatest teachers to have saved me from failing at calculus. Four years later, in January of 1976, I ran into Major Pete as I was signing into Headquarters Company of the 172nd Arctic Light Infantry Brigade at Fort Richardson, Alaska. I was reporting for duty as a Redeye Section Leader in an Infantry Company and Ol' Pete talked me into transferring immediately to his Air Defense Battalion, which was a NIKE Hercules surface-to-air missile unit. Sweet move, if I were a Catholic, that man would be top of my list for Sainthood.

"When we depart from thee, Serving on land or sea, May we still loyal be, West Point, to thee."

I did fairly well with the remainder of my classes, but it was a long four years nonetheless. Most college kids and grads couldn't imagine going to school 6 days a week, or not being able to skip any classes, or wearing a uniform to class which was subject to inspection, or getting up for breakfast every morning at 0600 (that's six in the morning), or standing in formation and marching to the dining facility for every meal, or curfews and lights out at certain hours, or having to constantly keep your room clean for inspection, or marching in a parade on Saturday after class, or a million other things that were so much more prison-like than college-like. It is so strikingly different than going to a regular college that it is extremely difficult to even try to compare the two.

"And when our work is done, Our course on earth is run, May it be said, "Well done; be thou at peace."

After Megan and Patrick left West Point last week, she called and told me about their visit. Evidently one of the tour guides had explained something about "walking the area", which I'm pretty sure doesn't take place on most college campuses. This was punishment for violations and infractions of the laws we lived under at the Academy. She asked if I had ever "walked the area". Well, yes I did, on numerous occasions. Most of my punishment tours were just for minor violations, but I confessed to her that I did get hit with a major violation one time and as silly as it may seem, it was written up, and I quote, "Date dancing in a lewd and distasteful manner". If this event hadn't cost me my privileges for a couple of months, plus a lot of hours of "walking the area", it would have been amusing. It happened while I was attending one of our weekend dances and I had asked a girl, whom I had never seen before and have never seen since, to dance. Big mistake, I paid for it dearly and I never even caught her name. By golly, she was quite a dancer though.

"E'er may that line of gray, Increase from day to day, Live, serve and die, we pray, West Point, for thee."

Winter at West Point may be the gloomiest place on earth; at least it seemed like it for those 4 years. If it weren't for some really good friends and classmates, I'm afraid that I would have given up and tried something else in life. However, somehow I finally made it through and graduated with my Class of '75. I've been asked if I had it to do all over again, would I do it again. I don't know. If I had known back then what it was going to be like, my guess is that I probably wouldn't have gone. A young buck with so much energy and enthusiasm for life would have probably balked at an opportunity to be locked up for 4 years. Now the energy and enthusiasm have both been eroded considerably and as I contemplate my history at that place, I'd say, heck yeah, why not. The opportunities I've been given, the places I've been and the people I've met because of being sent up the river for 4 years, definitely made it worthwhile.

I was very saddened to hear of the passing of an old friend, Larry Plover, who died just a week ago. Back when a Saturday night away from West Point was a valued commodity, it was nice to land somewhere that was friendly and relaxing. After a week of nothing but pure regimen, it was nice to hear unrehearsed music and have a beer with some friendly people. Larry Plover was the founder and owner of Frivolous Sal's Last Chance Saloon and just an awful nice guy. He gave his world an 'air of respectability'. "Well done; be thou at peace."