The amazing story of how I managed to get into college, with a full scholarship, in the fall of 1972.
It was a long time ago, and I’m doing this from memory, so please forgive me if I don’t recall a lot of specifics regarding the people, places and timing of events. I also don’t remember carrying any maps and certainly didn’t have a GPS, so I’m not sure how I found my way across the country. Honestly, I probably didn’t really care at the time.
Forty-five years ago, right out of high school, I had no money and no prospects for the future. I was hoping I would get a scholarship offer to go to college, but that never happened. Even though I was 6’ 8” tall, and the Most Valuable Player on my high school basketball team, college prospects remained elusive.
I decided on a whim to go visit a longtime friend, Tony, who moved to Houston, Texas a year earlier. I had nothing but time so I decided I would ride my ten-speed bicycle to Houston to go visit him.
I found out much later that my mom & dad were very worried although they didn’t show it at the time. I was 18 and I think they were resigned to the idea, and they knew me well enough to know they couldn’t do or say anything to stop me.
Fortuitously, the day before I left, I received a check in the mail for $100 from the Women’s Club. I wasn’t expecting it, but it turned out to be a cash scholarship I applied for the previous spring.
Around the first week of September 1972, I was dropped off by high school buddies Bob & Rich near Paris, CA. So here I was, riding an undersized 10-speed bicycle carrying a bright orange backpack and a canteen full of whisky & water. It wasn’t very long before I was pulled over by a Paris cop inquiring about my status.
I rode to Hemet and as the sun set I laid out my sleeping bag for the night in front of a trailer park. I remember being awakened by the sprinklers coming on early in the morning.
Knowing that I had a long uphill slog to Idyllwild, I hitched a ride from a fellow named Don to Mountain Center. From there I rode down the mountain (4950 ft) at a very high rate of speed. Let’s just say I’m lucky I didn’t have a blowout. I proceeded to ride eastward. Once I reached I-10, I rode towards Indio, CA. Even though my nickname in high school was “Camel”, it turns out that a canteen full of whisky wasn’t much help in the California desert in September. Somewhere along the way, being tired and quickly dehydrating, I stuck my thumb out again. Bare in mind I had a bicycle, so I was limited to the type of vehicle I could catch a ride from.
Fortunately I was soon picked up by Reed, an African American man, who worked for the Bureau of Indian Affairs. We drove to Phoenix, AZ, where he had a friend that put us up for the night. It turns out this friend, Owens, was a state representative and I enjoyed listening to them talking politics all evening.
The next day we drove to Gallop, New Mexico, Reed’s final destination. He was acquainted with a pastor in town and they offered me dinner with the family and a place to sleep in the church next door. This was typical in that everywhere I went the generosity of people was amazing.
I recently found a postcard I sent to my mother from Gallup dated September 12th and it states that I also caught a ride from a professional stuntman somewhere along the way, probably before Indio. I don’t remember this person, but the contemporaneous nature of the postcard confirms that I did.
The next day I hopped back on my bike and headed eastward on I-40. As I was approaching Albuquerque, New Mexico the I-40 turned into a freeway. It was time to find another route through town. I ended up on Central Avenue and passed the University of New Mexico campus shortly after sunset. The shoulder of the road was broken up and traffic was heavy and slow. The slowness ended ended up being a good thing because I was hit from behind by a vehicle. I was able to pick myself up and walk away with just a sore knee. Fortunately my backpack and canteen took the brunt of the impact. The driver who hit me apologized and that was the end of that. No report was made and I didn’t get any information from the driver, not knowing any better and thinking it unnecessary at the time. The bike was totaled. Fortunately Bill & Paula, driving by in a van saw the accident and offered to put me up for the night. We loaded up my broken bike, but before they took me home, they wanted to go back to a party they were attending as they were just making a beer run when they saw the accident. As we were driving along a dark road through town, I saw quite a number of large automotive garages with the doors open and people standing around and sitting on cars drinking beer. Apparently this is what they did in the evenings. We stopped at one of these garages where a few other people were waiting for more beer and having a good time. We proceeded to drink beer and party for the next couple of hours. I barely remember the trip to their home, but I know I got a good night’s sleep. The next day, they fed me breakfast and drove me to the top of a hill east of Albuquerque on I-40. They offered to store my broken up bike at their parents home since they lived in a small mobile home without a garage (I eventually returned and collected the bike a year or two later).
Continuing on I decided to hitchhike to Norman, Oklahoma and visit some friends of my parents, Gary & Jan, who I had spent the summer with two years earlier. I ended up in Norman in the middle of the night and didn’t want to wake them up so I plopped myself up against their garage and waited until morning. I was still asleep when Gary went out to his car for work and saw me sleeping there. It was quite a surprise as they had no idea I was coming. I took them up on an offer to put me up for a few days. Being responsible adults, they took it upon themselves to try to appease my parents and get me into college with (hopefully) a basketball scholarship. Gary knew of a newly opened junior college in Moore, Oklahoma and he arranged an appointment with me to see the school’s basketball coach. Moore is about ½ way between Norman and Oklahoma City. It turns out that they didn’t have an extramural basketball program and therefore didn’t offer any scholarships, but he new the basketball coach at Oklahoma Christian College (OCC) and paved the way for me to meet coach Bill Villines. While I was waiting to meet the coach at OCC, I unofficially tried out for the basketball team at the University of Oklahoma in Norman. I say unofficially because they got in trouble later for it. Apparently there was an NCAA rule that prohibited them from allowing tryouts after the semester started, or something along those lines.
Finally the day came to visit the campus and meet coach Villines at Oklahoma Christian College. OCC being a small school belonged to the National Association of Intercollegiate Athletics (NAIA). School had already been in session for a couple of weeks but they didn’t have tryout restrictions like the NCAA. After a brief interview, coach Villines asked me to go out onto the basketball court and shoot around a little bit. After a few minutes he offered me a full sports scholarship including room and board!
As it turned out a 6’8” high school MVP didn’t mean much in southern California, but it was is a big deal in Oklahoma. I spent the next day signing up for classes and writing my parents letting them know that I made it to college after all.