It was a simpler time.
I was a junior in high school when I best got to know Mr. Harvey Trowbridge. He was one of the most informed, intelligent guys I ever met. His soft demeanor and kind word was a comfort to those who knew him. It was a particularly good thing for students in his classes that were rather intimidating, given the subject matter.
He demanded work. But he was never unreasonable about it.
I’m ahead of myself. When I write about this kind of subject matter, I have a difficult time reigning myself in.
Let’s start here. I learned this past week that Mr. T died. I heard he had a heart attack. My heart ached when I heard this news. The last time I saw him was at the pharmacy in New Salisbury pre-mask this year. We greeted each other with reminiscent vigor.
When my Dad was coaching football at North Harrison, Mr. Trowbridge filmed the games. It was 8 mm or 16 mm film. All I know was Mr. T would film the games and Ron Synder, one of the coaches, would take what Mr. T filmed that Friday night and take it to someone in Louisville to process it. My Dad and I would pick it up on Sunday afternoon on Virginia Avenue in Louisville. That is what I remember. I wish I still had some of those reels. We didn’t think like that back then. Pictures were few. Video was not yet. I can still very vividly, though 38 years ago, remember some of the film of football games Mr. Trowbridge produced. I’m sure whatever he was being paid to do the filming barely covered his gas to get to an away game. He was glad to do it, as he was the one who could better than anyone else.
In 1984 I was in Mr. T’s first period Computer Programming class. In that classroom was a bunch of unwieldy large Radio Shack computers that took floppy disks the size of a medium pizza box and the computers made grunting sounds we had never knew existed before then, and those sounds are around no longer. The room looked like a training ground for NASA scientists compared to what we type words on today.
It was a simpler time.
Mr. T was a whiz with those things compared to the rest of us. Where he got that kind of training I don’t know. It was quite specialized then and North Harrison was very fortunate to have him around. He worked at North for a long time and retired from there.
Mr. T and I had a few moments of disagreement for sure. But we always got over it and found a better common ground.
As I said, he filmed our games. By 1984 we had graduated to video. Of course Mr. Trowbridge was there with tripod in hand ready to record our games with no trip to Louisville to process film needed.
We were playing Mitchell and I kicked an extra point that solidly hit the cross bar and seemingly was return fire toward the line of scrimmage and about 18 players from both teams hit the ground trying to be spared from this scorching pigskin that was making a return trip West toward me. Needless to say, there was never so much laughter before or since in the stands at a North Harrison High School football game.
This, from the yearbook, shows a ball on a mighty low trajectory and this might of been the one.
We beat Mitchell 33-0. I missed two extra points.
Now, when I walked into Mr. T’s classroom on Monday morning he was ready.
“Well, if it isn’t the old cross bar kid!” he exclaimed, with a large grin on his face.
I failed to grasp as much humor as he did. I walked up to his desk and said something I won’t repeat here. It was not very nice. I thought he was going to choke on his tie. He didn’t. Nor did he send me to the office. He could have. But, we had an understanding. That is what I so liked about Mr. T. He could dish it out. He could also take it. And he knew me well enough to know when I was being serious and not. Whatever mutual respect we had for each other before that day, well, it grew as great deal.
I suppose that is why a few months later that year, in December, it was my turn.
The night before I had gone coon huntin’, remember that “coon huntin'”, with Mick Rutherford and Marc Gayheart. It was December. Gets dark early. Figured we’d be back home before 10 PM. Marc had a new dog, Dan. He was eager to see if Dan would tree. Dan’s treeing ability did not show itself that night. His ability to run off to the point where we had “lost” him did show. Long story short. My head hit the pillow about 3 AM and I was going to walk into Mr. Trowbridge’s room in a few short hours.
I walked in, I sat right in front of him on the first row, and plopped down in my desk chair. Wearing my traditional blue flannel shirt, this time a button was uneven and I looked a tired part.
“My, don’t we look rather disheveled this morning,” he said.
“Yeah, me and Mick and Marc went coon huntin’ last night. We lost a dog and it was early this morning before I got to sleep.”
I can still hear it….
“Your parents allowed you to go coon hunTING on a school night!?”
I looked at him and said not exactly. “We didn’t go coon hunTING, Mr. Trowbridge. No one we know goes coon hunTING. We don’t plan on going coon hunTING. I said….we went coon huntin’ last night.”
He just looked at me and laughed and said, “Danny, as early as it is, that was a good one.”
I smiled and told him thank you.
It was a simpler time. Want proof?
Another yearbook picture. One might go to jail for this now on school property. So much for SKOAL Bandits.
Thank you for being you, Mr. T. You were one of the good guys. I won’t forget you. How could I?
Speaking the rights…
Danny Johnson