As mentioned earlier, I had some problems with my roommate's friends as a freshman at Anderson College. Thankfully, I had some great suitemates. Our suite consisted of 4 bedrooms and a bathroom. Three of the bedrooms had two beds, and one room was a private room. Lenny, Louie, Steve and Mike were my friends. Louie walked around nude a lot, as he was a hippie. Lenny was into music. Steve was studying religion. Mike was going to be a doctor. Steve and Mike took me fishing once near the school. We didn't catch much, but I did see a snake. One Sunday afternoon, we were bored, so we decided to form a band. Steve played the recorder; Lenny played the kazoo; and Mike played two garbage cans like drums. We called ourselves The Walter Durst Orchestra, and I sang two songs that I had written--"Hey Mr. Sun" and "Albert Frankenstein". The first was just me and Steve. The second had everybody. We had a short rehearsal, and then we did it, and I recorded it on cassette. The tape exists somewhere. During the second song, it got so loud in Steve's room where we were taping that I had to literally put the microphone down my throat in order to be heard. We had fun.
Louie had a friend named Jeff who was a basketball player. Jeff had a fast car, and he would take us going out into the country to drive fast. It was like "The French Connection". I was in the back seat and scared for my life, but having fun too. A year later, another guy took the same road with two girls. He wrecked. He survived, but the two girls were killed. I'm glad Jeff didn't wreck.
There was a concert at Clemson that Louie, Jeff and I wanted to attend. It was Goose Creek Symphony, Canned Heat and Mountain. I adored Woodstock, and they bestowed upon me the hippie name of "The Woodstock Kid". Canned Heat and Mountain played at Woodstock. When Canned Heat came out to play, they told the audience that half of the band got lost in the mountains coming here. They were good anyway. Mountain was loud. Goose Creek played, and there was a lot of dancing and Boone's Farm Wine was passed around, along with some other stuff. I didn't partake, but I really like the music. It was my first real concert to attend. Afterwards, I was supposed to meet up with Louie and Jeff to go back to school. They had met a couple of girls, and we all went back to the girls' apartment. I stayed in the living room, while they hooked up in the bedrooms. I finally left and tried to find a place to stay for the night. There was a hotel on campus called The Clemson House. I only had $3 on me, which would not cover a room, but the desk clerk let me sleep on a sofa in the lobby for $3. That was fine until the next morning, when the janitor came in to clean. When he cut on the TV in the lobby to watch a gospel show, I woke up and made some noise. I frightened the janitor. I am sorry whoever you were.
I had missed my ride back to school, so I began to hitchhike. It was 20 miles back to Anderson, and it was Sunday morning. I had walked a couple of miles, when a car came along, and picked me up. It was 3 high school kids in a Cadillac. I talked with them for a while and found out that they had stolen the car from one of the kids' grandmother. At that point, I didn't want to be in the car with them, if they got stopped by the police, so I asked them to let me out. They did, and I walked the rest of the way back to school. Fun times.
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Saturday, August 8, 2015
The Radio Hour
My best friend, as I left for college, was Sonny. He was in the KPBC's youth group. He and I had a lot in common with music and girls. When I went off to college, I wanted to write to him, as he was back home and two years younger than me, but I decided to do something different. So, The Walter Durst Radio Hour was born. It consisted of a cassette tape. He and I sent tapes back and forth to each other. The tapes had music and other things on them, and we shared a lot of our feelings on them, because we knew that no one else would listen to them.
My "radio station" was WOW, which stood for Walter Oh Walter. His was SOS, which stood for Sonny Oh Sonny. I did intros and it was just like a radio program. At times, the tapes would be 90 minutes, and sometimes 30 minutes (for financial reasons). There would be commercials that I would write, and a lot of music. When my grades weren't doing too good, my parents would take my stereo away, so the shows would have a lot of stuff taped off of the radio. I have one tape today that I kept from Sonny, because it had a lot of Bread music on it. Years later, Sonny gave me some tapes that he had kept of me. Most of the time though, we would tape over the tape that we sent to each other. There are probably a lot of gems that were lost.
After about a year, I expanded the shows to go to other people. They were produced exclusively for them. Such as Ellen and Karen, BJ, James, Jimmy, and a few others, but the bulk of them were between Sonny and me. Even when I went to seminary in 1976, they continued. Here is one intro from then, as I remember it:
And now, from studio room 235 of Ft. Worth Hall at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Ft. Worth Texas, it's the Walter Durst Radio Hour. Idea by Walter Durst; Written by Walter Durst; Directed by Walter Durst; Produced by Walter Durst; and Jived by Walter Durst. The Walter Durst Radio Hour is broadcast on WOW, which stands for Walter Oh Walter and sent to station SOS, which stands for Sonny Oh Sonny. The Walter Durst Radio Hour is brought to you by the wonderful folks at Irby's Pies with one flavor--Peach, and by the Postal Service. The Walter Durst Radio Hour is also heard in Poland, Zambia, Albania, Lesotho, Tibet, Madagascar, and it is the official radio station of Outer Mongolia. And now, here's Walter Durst.
It went something like that with some variations, depending on the location. I would do scripts at first, but then I just winged it. It was creativity run amok. I miss those days.
My "radio station" was WOW, which stood for Walter Oh Walter. His was SOS, which stood for Sonny Oh Sonny. I did intros and it was just like a radio program. At times, the tapes would be 90 minutes, and sometimes 30 minutes (for financial reasons). There would be commercials that I would write, and a lot of music. When my grades weren't doing too good, my parents would take my stereo away, so the shows would have a lot of stuff taped off of the radio. I have one tape today that I kept from Sonny, because it had a lot of Bread music on it. Years later, Sonny gave me some tapes that he had kept of me. Most of the time though, we would tape over the tape that we sent to each other. There are probably a lot of gems that were lost.
After about a year, I expanded the shows to go to other people. They were produced exclusively for them. Such as Ellen and Karen, BJ, James, Jimmy, and a few others, but the bulk of them were between Sonny and me. Even when I went to seminary in 1976, they continued. Here is one intro from then, as I remember it:
And now, from studio room 235 of Ft. Worth Hall at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Ft. Worth Texas, it's the Walter Durst Radio Hour. Idea by Walter Durst; Written by Walter Durst; Directed by Walter Durst; Produced by Walter Durst; and Jived by Walter Durst. The Walter Durst Radio Hour is broadcast on WOW, which stands for Walter Oh Walter and sent to station SOS, which stands for Sonny Oh Sonny. The Walter Durst Radio Hour is brought to you by the wonderful folks at Irby's Pies with one flavor--Peach, and by the Postal Service. The Walter Durst Radio Hour is also heard in Poland, Zambia, Albania, Lesotho, Tibet, Madagascar, and it is the official radio station of Outer Mongolia. And now, here's Walter Durst.
It went something like that with some variations, depending on the location. I would do scripts at first, but then I just winged it. It was creativity run amok. I miss those days.
Friday, August 7, 2015
Mrs. Pryor
In my first semester, I had to take Botany. It was a required course. I was never good in Science or Math. Thankfully, Math was not a required course. But, Botany was. My teacher was Mrs. Pryor. She was a bit on the heavy set side, and wore glasses. She also had a very thick Southern accent. I was not used to that kind of accent. I came from a more urban setting, where most of the people talked normal. Mrs. Pryor didn't talk that way. In Botany, you study about cells. Mrs. Pryor pronounced that word as "sails". She confused me. Why were we learning about sails? What did that have to do with Botany? I almost failed her class, because I didn't understand what she meant. If you teach, please have good diction.
Thursday, August 6, 2015
S Mart
There was a store in Anderson called S Mart. It was located near a shopping center on the outskirts of town. The store sold mainly women's clothes which were made at the Stone Manufacturing plant in Greenville. Some of the clothes were factory seconds.
I needed a part-time job after school, so the Dean of Students got the job for me. He was an older man named Dr. Lawton. He was also very kind. My job there was the Director of Maintenance. I was the only employee doing that job, which is why I was the Director. The store had several employees, mostly all women. The manager of the store was a man, who must have been ex-military, because he was very strict. My duties consisted of mowing the grass outside of the store; sweeping the inside of the store; and whatever else.
I also found that his business practices weren't quite kosher. There was a woman in the stockroom whose job was to sew designer labels into the clothes. She had labels from Belk, Neiman Marcus, JC Penney's, and other stores.
I had been working there for about 10 days, when my manager told me that I needed to wax the floors after closing. He showed me the large vat of wax in the stockroom. I had never waxed a floor before, and he didn't give me any direction. So after the store closed, I went to work. I have never been very good at reading directions, and apparently the directions on the vat said to mix the wax with water. I didn't see that, and I pumped the wax from the vat into a container and poured it onto the floor. Yes, it smelled, but I thought it was supposed to smell like that. I took the mop and spread it out over the floor. I completed the task and went home. The next afternoon, I reported for work and expecting a pat on the back for a job well done. That didn't happen. The manager was livid. He fired me on the spot. It seemed that they couldn't open the door to the store that morning, because I had put so much wax on the floor that the door was sealed shut. So, they went to the loading door at the back of the store. The smell was so bad that it made some employees sick. The manager said that the floor was so sticky that it was hard to walk, and he asked me if I had cut the wax with water. Of course I hadn't. They had to take all of the clothes out of the store and clean them, and then strip the wax off of the floor. They were closed for several days.
I went back to the store to get the money for the last few days, and the manager refused to pay me. I reported that to Dr. Lawton, and he took me out to the store. I was due money for 10 days of work. After some discussion between him and the manager, I was paid a portion of what I was owed. For a few months after that, I would see the manager around town. He would never speak to me, but his face would get real red, as if his blood pressure was going up. He scared me.
S Mart closed up a few years later. They were investigated for the sewing of the labels. I wonder how the investigators found out.
I needed a part-time job after school, so the Dean of Students got the job for me. He was an older man named Dr. Lawton. He was also very kind. My job there was the Director of Maintenance. I was the only employee doing that job, which is why I was the Director. The store had several employees, mostly all women. The manager of the store was a man, who must have been ex-military, because he was very strict. My duties consisted of mowing the grass outside of the store; sweeping the inside of the store; and whatever else.
I also found that his business practices weren't quite kosher. There was a woman in the stockroom whose job was to sew designer labels into the clothes. She had labels from Belk, Neiman Marcus, JC Penney's, and other stores.
I had been working there for about 10 days, when my manager told me that I needed to wax the floors after closing. He showed me the large vat of wax in the stockroom. I had never waxed a floor before, and he didn't give me any direction. So after the store closed, I went to work. I have never been very good at reading directions, and apparently the directions on the vat said to mix the wax with water. I didn't see that, and I pumped the wax from the vat into a container and poured it onto the floor. Yes, it smelled, but I thought it was supposed to smell like that. I took the mop and spread it out over the floor. I completed the task and went home. The next afternoon, I reported for work and expecting a pat on the back for a job well done. That didn't happen. The manager was livid. He fired me on the spot. It seemed that they couldn't open the door to the store that morning, because I had put so much wax on the floor that the door was sealed shut. So, they went to the loading door at the back of the store. The smell was so bad that it made some employees sick. The manager said that the floor was so sticky that it was hard to walk, and he asked me if I had cut the wax with water. Of course I hadn't. They had to take all of the clothes out of the store and clean them, and then strip the wax off of the floor. They were closed for several days.
I went back to the store to get the money for the last few days, and the manager refused to pay me. I reported that to Dr. Lawton, and he took me out to the store. I was due money for 10 days of work. After some discussion between him and the manager, I was paid a portion of what I was owed. For a few months after that, I would see the manager around town. He would never speak to me, but his face would get real red, as if his blood pressure was going up. He scared me.
S Mart closed up a few years later. They were investigated for the sewing of the labels. I wonder how the investigators found out.
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Hazing
What is the difference between bullying and hazing? I don't think there is much difference, especially to the person that is being hazed. That was what my first semester was like at Anderson College. My roommate was a good guy, but his friends were mostly all rednecks. I didn't get along with them very well. I associated more with the hippies and the creative folks. They just liked to drive souped-up cars and drink beer.
One night, I was asleep, and I heard my name yelled out real loud. I woke up fast to see a large knife headed toward my chest. Just before the blade went into my body, the guy turned the knife around and the handle hit by chest. They all thought it was funny. I about had a heart attack. Another time, they dragged me out of the room and tried to stuff me down the trash chute. I screamed, and they stopped. Another time, they grabbed me by my wrists and hung me over the 2nd floor balcony. Had they dropped me, I would have broken both legs, but they pulled me up. Another time, they moved all of my furniture and bed into the hallway of our suite and locked the dorm door so I would have to sleep in the hall. That one at least had some creativity because the furniture was pretty big. They seemed to enjoy thinking up new ways to make my life miserable. A meeting was held between them and the Dean of Men, and the hazing stopped.
One Sunday night, I was riding back from home with my roommate in his car. He was driving very fast up I-26, when we came upon an elderly woman driving slower than us. I remember asking my roommate what would happen to us if she looked in her mirror and saw us on her bumper, and she panicked. He said that we would just fly right over her car. That was comforting.
I got involved in a couple of clubs around campus. One was the Church Vocations group. I was thinking about going into church work. Another was the Baptist Student Union. The third, and the one I enjoyed the most, was Ivy Leaves. That was the name of the literary magazine for our school. It came out once a year. I was majoring in English, and I wrote a lot, so it was a natural fit. I kept busy after class, because I just didn't want to have to go back to my dorm room. I also went to a church, Boulevard Baptist, every time it was open. And, I read books for a blind student named James. He was black, and still is. He was also very smart and made straight A's.
He wanted to go to my church, so I led him the three blocks from school to the church one Sunday morning. When we got there, the ushers told us that James could not come into the church. I was insulted that this was because James was black. We argued with the ushers, and they said we could come in if we sat in the balcony. The next Sunday, James invited me to his church, which was all black. They welcomed me with open arms.
One night, I was asleep, and I heard my name yelled out real loud. I woke up fast to see a large knife headed toward my chest. Just before the blade went into my body, the guy turned the knife around and the handle hit by chest. They all thought it was funny. I about had a heart attack. Another time, they dragged me out of the room and tried to stuff me down the trash chute. I screamed, and they stopped. Another time, they grabbed me by my wrists and hung me over the 2nd floor balcony. Had they dropped me, I would have broken both legs, but they pulled me up. Another time, they moved all of my furniture and bed into the hallway of our suite and locked the dorm door so I would have to sleep in the hall. That one at least had some creativity because the furniture was pretty big. They seemed to enjoy thinking up new ways to make my life miserable. A meeting was held between them and the Dean of Men, and the hazing stopped.
One Sunday night, I was riding back from home with my roommate in his car. He was driving very fast up I-26, when we came upon an elderly woman driving slower than us. I remember asking my roommate what would happen to us if she looked in her mirror and saw us on her bumper, and she panicked. He said that we would just fly right over her car. That was comforting.
I got involved in a couple of clubs around campus. One was the Church Vocations group. I was thinking about going into church work. Another was the Baptist Student Union. The third, and the one I enjoyed the most, was Ivy Leaves. That was the name of the literary magazine for our school. It came out once a year. I was majoring in English, and I wrote a lot, so it was a natural fit. I kept busy after class, because I just didn't want to have to go back to my dorm room. I also went to a church, Boulevard Baptist, every time it was open. And, I read books for a blind student named James. He was black, and still is. He was also very smart and made straight A's.
He wanted to go to my church, so I led him the three blocks from school to the church one Sunday morning. When we got there, the ushers told us that James could not come into the church. I was insulted that this was because James was black. We argued with the ushers, and they said we could come in if we sat in the balcony. The next Sunday, James invited me to his church, which was all black. They welcomed me with open arms.
Monday, August 3, 2015
The Dining Hall
I have always liked girls. Some of them I have loved. My first girlfriend was Page in the first grade. Then came others along the way. It was like the old song "For All the Girls I Loved Before". I think some took pity on me as I grew a little older, but the fact remains that I am straight. I always have been. Not to put down gay folks. I have a lot of friends who are gay. I have had two roommates who are gay. But, I prefer women.
One thing I have found in my life is that there is a misconception that all creative people are gay. They are not. There is a misconception that everyone who does Theatre is gay. They are not. It is a label that I have had to deal with. Why am I 62 years old and never been married? Some would assume it is because I am gay. I am not. I was brought up in a very strict household, and my parents instilled in me that I should be careful in my relationships with girls. For the most part, I was. But, that didn't mean I was gay. It meant that I respected my parents. I know I may be stepping on toes here, or maybe you may read into this, when there is nothing to assume. When I was in high school, I didn't have much time for girls, until I was around 16-17. I was having too hard of a time trying to pass school; shoplift things; being under the care of a psychiatrist; and being bullied. I had very low self-esteem, which changed when I met my new friends in 1970. Girls came back on my radar.
So, in the Fall of 1971, I entered Anderson College in Anderson, SC. As I wrote earlier, it was a junior college and about the only place I could go with my low SAT's and with some pull from my father. I had been there a couple of days. I went to the dining hall for supper one night, and the line was pretty long. I stood behind a boy and two girls, and they were talking. The boy said that he knew that a gay guy was a new student. The girls wanted to know what he looked like. He said that the guy was thin with glasses, and his name was Walter. He then turned around and looked at me. The girls laughed. He smiled. I could have died. I turned around and walked out of the dining hall. No apologies from those who had wronged me. No apologies from anyone who had started the rumor or repeated the rumor. The fact was that it wasn't true. I knew it. My friends knew it. I know you would say that I should have stood up for myself. Yeah, I guess so. But, I didn't. I did prove those people wrong as time went by, but that moment showed me what it is like to be talked about and hearing it. All of the improvement that I had made in the past year about self-esteem and character went out the window, because of those ugly comments. I didn't know if I should keep going or just end it all. I decided not to embarrass my father, because of all the strings he had to pull to get me into this college.
A few days later, I had a chat with the president of the school--Dr. Rouse. He had known my father for many years, and was instrumental in getting me accepted into Anderson. He asked me how things were going, because I was away from home. It was the longest time I had been away from my parents, and the school was 130 miles from Columbia. I didn't have a car. I told Dr. Rouse that I thought of AC as being at camp, only longer. He told me that was a good way of looking at it, and that I should stay strong. I guess he had heard the rumors too. Something was said between Dr. Rouse and Mr. Landreth, who was the Dean of Men. They told the students not to spread rumors about me, because they were untrue. Mr. Landreth's motto was "I say what I mean, and I mean what I say." He did. I stayed. It got better, sort of.
One thing I have found in my life is that there is a misconception that all creative people are gay. They are not. There is a misconception that everyone who does Theatre is gay. They are not. It is a label that I have had to deal with. Why am I 62 years old and never been married? Some would assume it is because I am gay. I am not. I was brought up in a very strict household, and my parents instilled in me that I should be careful in my relationships with girls. For the most part, I was. But, that didn't mean I was gay. It meant that I respected my parents. I know I may be stepping on toes here, or maybe you may read into this, when there is nothing to assume. When I was in high school, I didn't have much time for girls, until I was around 16-17. I was having too hard of a time trying to pass school; shoplift things; being under the care of a psychiatrist; and being bullied. I had very low self-esteem, which changed when I met my new friends in 1970. Girls came back on my radar.
So, in the Fall of 1971, I entered Anderson College in Anderson, SC. As I wrote earlier, it was a junior college and about the only place I could go with my low SAT's and with some pull from my father. I had been there a couple of days. I went to the dining hall for supper one night, and the line was pretty long. I stood behind a boy and two girls, and they were talking. The boy said that he knew that a gay guy was a new student. The girls wanted to know what he looked like. He said that the guy was thin with glasses, and his name was Walter. He then turned around and looked at me. The girls laughed. He smiled. I could have died. I turned around and walked out of the dining hall. No apologies from those who had wronged me. No apologies from anyone who had started the rumor or repeated the rumor. The fact was that it wasn't true. I knew it. My friends knew it. I know you would say that I should have stood up for myself. Yeah, I guess so. But, I didn't. I did prove those people wrong as time went by, but that moment showed me what it is like to be talked about and hearing it. All of the improvement that I had made in the past year about self-esteem and character went out the window, because of those ugly comments. I didn't know if I should keep going or just end it all. I decided not to embarrass my father, because of all the strings he had to pull to get me into this college.
A few days later, I had a chat with the president of the school--Dr. Rouse. He had known my father for many years, and was instrumental in getting me accepted into Anderson. He asked me how things were going, because I was away from home. It was the longest time I had been away from my parents, and the school was 130 miles from Columbia. I didn't have a car. I told Dr. Rouse that I thought of AC as being at camp, only longer. He told me that was a good way of looking at it, and that I should stay strong. I guess he had heard the rumors too. Something was said between Dr. Rouse and Mr. Landreth, who was the Dean of Men. They told the students not to spread rumors about me, because they were untrue. Mr. Landreth's motto was "I say what I mean, and I mean what I say." He did. I stayed. It got better, sort of.
Sunday, August 2, 2015
First Kiss
I had been a part of the Kilbourne Park Baptist Church youth group for about six months. We did everything together. One night, we went over to a girl's house for a party. She was not in the inner circle of my friends, but she had a nice house. It was decided to play a kissing game, like spin the bottle. The game needed an equal number of girls to guys. There was one more boy there than girls, so somebody had to not participate. That was me. I guess it was because of my acne and shyness that I didn't participate in the game. So, they all went into one area of the basement to play the game, and I was in another part of the basement, listening to records. One of the girls was named Pam. She was the prettiest girl in our group, and I liked her a lot. It was kind of like "Beauty and the Beast". As I was listening to "Magic Carpet Ride" by Steppenwolf, she came over to where I was and kissed me on the cheek. She ran back to the others and said, "I kissed Walter!" Everyone laughed. I turned red. It was my first kiss.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)