I lived with my brother at 231 S Duck in Stillwater Ok, June and July, summer school at OSU. He had a class to finish and would graduate at the end. I had finished high school and just started my college education.
Eskimo Joes was the beginning of what it would become a half century later, but all it consisted of then was a two story building, somewhere near eight hundred square feet per floor, pool tables, a bar on each floor, a half dozen kinds of beer, and plastic cups each made with EJ's picture and were stacked up in different colors on the bar. That was it. No kitchen, no ten thousand square foot T-shirt sales area, it was a bar. Straight across the street was George's Stables, a beer bar that had been there for thirty years. My brother sent me down to the store to get a loaf of bread, next door to Joes. I got in the car and headed down.
I made four trips trying to figure out where the store was. I was seventeen, made a right, made a left, I was confused, frustrated, whipped around the block three times, looked up and saw EJ's, hit the gas pedal on the Volkswagen fastback when a huge, blue, polished 72 Lincoln town car made a left turn in front of me, stopped, I jerked forward, slammed on my brakes, squalled the tires, the Lincoln pulled by me, (we had missed) and I then leaned out the window, heart beating fast, lowered my left arm out the window, and let the other driver know I was unhappy by waving one finger at him. Stupid.
Oh look, there was EJ's and there was the store, pulled up, parked, forgot the matter at hand, started to walk toward the store when I heard brakes squealing again, turned, the Lincoln was parked behind my car, a gray haired, neatly dressed, very angry man was getting out of the front seat, the gun on his right hip looked big enough to make him limp when he walked, and when he stepped in front of me he held up a leather ID case and flipped open a badge and said, very loud and mean , "I'm Lt. Bill Anderson, Stillwater Police Department."
I learned a few lessons over that. I never made a hand gesture toward anyone, anywhere, for any reason, any more. I learned that my Dad had trained me to respond with Yes Sir, No Sir, Absolutely Sir. I figured out that my brother and I would look good when we both wore Stetson hats, tucked in shirts and polished our boots when we had to meet someone, and I was much better off to shut up and listen to him speak on my behalf.
Funny the lessons you learn in college.
Ralph Peck
Photo by Ralph Peck
EJ's in Stillwater Oklahoma
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