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Back to Work After the War

      Well, I got back home to Lima out on Stewart Road on May 20, 1946. And the next couple of weeks were spent swapping stories with my older brothers Marvin and Kenneth,

 

         Seeing the friends and relatives I hadn't seen in over three years was also enjoyable time spent. After a lot of yarn-swapping and visiting, I began thinking about doing something productive to earn my keep.

 

         My brother Ken was a pipefitter at the Westinghouse Plant in Lima and he was able to get me a job as a "pipefitter's helper.” I wasn't assigned to Ken but to a pipefitter's helpers pool.

 

         Sometimes I would work with a garrulous old coot named Cherry and sometimes I would be with Ladd Bollinger, a jolly coon-huntin' character with whom it was fun to work   He was full of stories, many about our fellow employees. I had to join the pipefitters union (Ladd Bollinger was the union president), pay my dues, and go to their meetings.

        

         I also went to several American Legion meetings with Ken, but that didn't seem like good nighttime entertainment to me after a hard day’s work.

 

         Working at The Plant soon taught me that I didn't want to spend the rest of my life as a worker bee in that kind of hive. After I had burned  my hand, arm or leg on every non-insulated steam pipe in the plant, I realized that an industrial installation can be a dangerous place to work. To insure my longevity, I thought, I'd better find something else to do in a less hazardous environment.

 

         A return to college was what I really wanted and, with the G. I. Bill to help with my expenses, I embarked on that course of action.

 

         After a letter or two and some phone calls, I decided to go down to OSU to talk to the counselors in the Arts College, even though the last time I did that I ended up in the Army.

 

         I told them that I wanted to switch from a pre-veterinary major to  pre-med and that I was interested in the Arts-Medicine program. 

 

         Under this plan I would take three years of a pre-med curriculum, and
IF my grades were good enough, and

IF I was lucky  enough to get accepted into a school of medicine, and

IF I passed the first year of medical school,

then THAT first med school year would be considered the fourth year of my bachelor of arts program, and I would get a BA degree.    

 

         Luckily, all the courses I had taken before I went into the Army were the same courses required in pre-med, so there would be no make-up courses needed.

 

         This, then, became my working plan. All I had to do was submit the list of courses I wanted to take in the fall quarter of 1946, sign up for the G.I. Bill, and then find a place to live.    

 

         Course-wise, to satisfy the foreign language requirement,. I would have to take four more quarters of German. There were also some mandatory English and social studies course requirements. I  would have to take more physics and math courses, too, plus qualitative and quantitative analysis, a year of organic chemistry, and some zoology and botany courses.

 

         It seemed that I would be really busy for the next two-and-a-half  years with all the didactic courses. Then I would have to do well in the MCATs (Medical College Aptitude Tests), and pray for acceptance into the 1948 freshman medical school class.

 

         It all looked like a tall order. But, what the heck --  it beat the burns, cuts and scrapes of being a "pipefitter's helper."

 

         Where to live became the next problem to solve. Having had a single room to myself during my first two quarters before the Army, I didn't want to have to put up with a roommate, and I didn't want to go the fraternity route either.  But since there were practically no single rooms in the university housing system, I would have to find some solution in private housing.    

 

         Since it has now been 60 years since those times, I don't recall how I got in touch with Rich and Kate Romaker, but they became the solution to my problem.

 

          Kate and Rich had been high school classmates of mine. Kate had been Kate Bonfiglio and Rich was Richard Romaker. And they now had become involved in the health sciences, too. Kate had gone through nursing school during the war and Rich had completed pre-med and was either in med school at OSU or was preparing to enter it when the two married.

 

         Kate's father had bought a narrow, brick two-story house at 999 Delaware, just where it dead-ended into Second Avenue. It had a nice big bedroom on the second floor where they stayed. They agreed to rent me a small adjoining single room and we would share the bath.

 

         The house was 10 or 11 blocks from the south edge of the OSU campus and, since I didn't have a car, it was a vigorous walk. If the weather was bad, I could catch the Neil Avenue street car but, all in all. it was an ideal set up.

 

         Since I had to study and Rich had to study,  it was quiet around the little house. In the winter they would frequently invite me down for a cup of hot chocolate and some cookies at around ten or ten-thirty before bedtime.    

 

         In school, I had Professor Oskar Seidlin for German. I don't know what had happened to Professor Hans Sperber, the professor I had previously had before the Army, but I did like Professor Seidlin. He introduced us to the German philosophers Hegel, Kant, Nietzsche, Schopenhauer and others.

 

         I also had the grand old man of physics at Ohio State, Professor Alpheus Smith. It was he who stimulated young William Fowler from my same Hazel Avenue in Lima, to continue in physics and to progress to win a Nobel Prize in astrophysics while a professor at Cal Tech.

 

       My old pal Juke Pike from my previous college days would get together with me frequently on Friday after classes. He was in a business curriculum and so we didn't have a lot in common scholastically.  But we had great after-hours attitude-adjustment sessions.

 

         At the Sunset Cafe and Grill on 5th Avenue, we could get a pitcher of beer for fifty cents and hot dogs for ten cents each.  We regaled each other with war stories, as he had been in the Navy and I in the Army. I'm sure we both lied a lot but we had a great time.

 

         And so, September 1946 found me out of the Westinghouse plant and back into academic pursuits. The pieces had all fallen back together and I was on my way.

 

 

 

 

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