The Days Forward

West Point Class of 1969

Suzanne Rice

Vignettes from Ancient Times – 1976 – 1977 and 1992

     It is truly unfortunate that my most interesting stories about life in the hotel business can’t be put in writing. The really good ones involve famous people, hotel owners, entertainers, mistresses, and members of the oldest profession. But for the sake of privacy, the following vignettes involve only me in my early days as a GM in Sheraton hotels in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Birmingham, Alabama. Certainly, the statute of limitations has expired by now, as I left Sheraton in 1992.

     After serving my five-year commitment in the military, I was fortunate enough to secure a position as an assistant to the general manager at the Sheraton Dallas Hotel. Basically, it was a management trainee role. I was equally fortunate to have one of the most senior and best training GMs in the Sheraton Corporation. I worked in every department, even taking over for the executive housekeeper for a little while due to the expected opening of the position.

     After about a year and a half in this role, the day before Labor Day, I received a call from human resources at Sheraton’s headquarters, asking me to “babysit” the Sheraton Tulsa Airport hotel until a permanent GM could be assigned. The GM was leaving the next day, by “mutual agreement.” It wasn’t unusual for Sheraton to give you a day’s notice to move to a new assignment. It happened again eleven years later, when I moved from Palm Springs, California, to Bangkok, Thailand, but that is a story for another day. In any event, I didn’t mind, as the job carried a temporary GM’s title and I was very pleased about that.

     Upon arriving at the hotel late in the evening, there was a farewell party in the bar to say goodbye to the GM. It’s a little unusual not to get any verbal or written handover notes, but given the GM’s history, that might have been for the better. Everyone at the party was at least “two sheets to the wind,” but I tried to be as accommodating as possible and accept what was going on.  A lady who asked me to dance turned out to be a waitress in the bar. I heard the GM was indeed very “close” to the staff and loved his grog.

     The GM departed the next day, and I began my “babysitting” assignment, assuming it would last a week or two at the most. I thought I would soon be replaced and return to Dallas. (Also, Sheraton was going to sell the hotel, as it did not fit into their overall strategy.) Well, it wasn’t until a year and a half later that they sold the hotel, and I was the GM for the duration. 

Paul Revere Rides Again

     My days of being a bootlegger started my first day on the job in Tulsa.

     Some counties in Oklahoma were what we called “dry.” The county the hotel was in was one of those counties. 

     We used to say “the Baptists staggered into the polling station to vote dry.” You could bring a whole bottle of liquor into the bar and drink what you wanted, but you couldn’t buy a single drink. Obviously, being adjacent to an international airport meant that many of our guests arrived without a bottle and expected a drink.

     Every hotel in Tulsa accommodated those guests by serving them individual drinks, and so did my hotel since its inception. Thus . . . my bootlegging days began. I would take the hotel station wagon to the local liquor store and fill it up with booze, bringing it back to the hotel to keep the bar well stocked.

     It was a misdemeanor if you got caught selling an individual drink, and the unlucky bartenders and waitresses usually got caught. Fortunately, misdemeanors were wiped out after a certain number of years. Even so, I had to be extremely careful not to get caught in the bar during one of the raids by the local police.

     All the hotels had a system to notify the others that “Paul Revere is riding again.” On most occasions, we were able to shut down our illegal operations before they arrived. But obviously, if you were first on their list, the system didn’t help. We got caught several times, and on the third ding, we lost our liquor license and had to get a new one under a different name. It was quite easy, though, as many lawyers specialized in this area.

     Fortunately, I was never nabbed, so kept my record clean. Not too many of my classmates can claim that they were bootleggers!

A Fish Story

     Early one Monday morning, I received a call from the president of Sheraton Corporation. Now, I did know him, as he was a friend of my father. However, it’s like a newbie tac officer receiving a call from the Superintendent of West Point. Why on earth would he be calling me? After a few pleasantries, he asked me if I had any fish in the freezer. I said, “Well, yes, I am sure we have fish in the freezer,” as it was on our restaurant menu. What a strange question. “Well,” he said, “You have a friend of mine’s salmon in your freezer.” It turned out that the president of Avis Car Rental had flown in the night before from Alaska. He had been on a salmon fishing trip and had brought his fish with him on the plane. Upon arrival, he asked the receptionist to put his fish in our freezer, which she did.

     In a hotel of this size and location, anything not locked up had a tendency to go missing. So, it was a strict policy to lock all freezers and refrigerators at night. The chef on the opening breakfast shift had the keys. But, unfortunately, the gentleman checked out extremely early on Sunday for his flight to New York, leaving his fish locked up in our freezer. You can imagine the ennui of a fisherman having to leave his hard-earned, extremely expensive prized fish behind.

Frozen Fish to be Transported

     This turned out to be the most expensive salmon per pound ever caught. My president advised me to put the salmon on the first flight to New York—with the appropriate means to keep it frozen the entire way—and to have a limousine waiting to pick it up and deliver it to the president of Avis at his New York office. Of course, valuing my job, I did so immediately . . . and went over budget that month.

A Fistful of Dollars

     Sheraton decided to move me from Sydney, Australia, to Birmingham, Alabama, to open the 757-room Sheraton Civic Center Hotel. It involved a complete restoration of an old hotel and a new build of approximately 350 rooms. It was quite an experience, as when I arrived there was only one other Sheraton employee (a director of marketing), and all we had was one computer. Construction was about one-third done, and we had about sixteen months before the hotel’s opening. 

Sheraton Civic Center Hotel

     Very soon after opening, we hosted a delegation from Saudi Arabia, including a prince and the king’s sister. It seems that when you have most of the money in the world and your sister needs a knee operation, you send her to one of the most famous orthopedic surgeons in the world. At that time, it was Dr. James Andrews. It just so happens that Dr. Andrews had operated on Roger Clemens, Michael Jordan, Drew Breese, Bo Jackson, Jack Nicklaus, and other celebrities.

     The visiting Arabs had twelve rooms and suites to stay in and four additional rooms for their luggage. The prince made it very clear that he was unhappy to have been given this assignment in the “backwater of nowhere.” He was always in a foul mood, as he pranced in and out of the hotel at all hours of the day and night, complete with a gold-headed walking stick.

     One night at about 10 p.m., I got an urgent call from the hotel saying that the prince wants to see me immediately. I put on a suit and headed to the hotel about thirty minutes away. When I arrived, the prince was seated in the lobby, holding court with his minions. As I approached, he rose up and threw a huge wad of $100 bills right at my chest. He said, “Here, you want money, here is money.” The Benjamins flew all over the floor of the lobby. I had no clue as to what he was referring to. My mind was racing, and my first thought was wouldn’t it be nice to punch the little dandy right in the nose. Of course, since I didn’t want to create an international incident, I decided against that option. What I thought of later is that I should have said, “Thank you, I will donate all this money to a local charity.” However, I didn’t do that either. I just remained silent until he sat back down and one of his minions explained to me that room service had failed to deliver a steak to a member of the delegation as ordered. An incident of epic proportions!

     As it turned out, room service took the order, but back in 1990, the phone systems weren’t advanced enough to list the room number of the person calling room service, and on this occasion, the caller hung up before the order taker could get the room number. It could have been any one of the delegation’s twelve rooms. The prince, having made his big show, cooled down and the incident drew to a close. Not sure what happened to the $100 bills, but I didn’t pick them up.

Moving to My Birth State

Ft. Meade, Maryland, was my birthplace, and I was born right in the window of time that made me a candidate for the West Point Class of 1969.  My father had served in North Africa and Italy during World War II, and he was stationed at Ft. Meade shortly after returning home from the European Theater.  Then I came along, in the fall of 1947.

     Our family left Ft. Meade before I was a full year old, and I didn’t return to live there until this year, 2025.  My wife and I made the move from a scenic mountain home in rural Virginia to Frederick, Maryland in order to be close to our younger son and his family.

The View from Phil’s Home in Virginia

The beauty of our Virginia home was tough to leave, but being close to our son’s family was much more important.

Scenic Beauty and Wildlife in Virginia

However, one aspect of the move gave me pause: I had a modest pistol collection, and the laws in Maryland required owners of pistols to follow various procedures that left me worried that I might miss some step and get in trouble.

     My worries go back to my PCS (permanent change of station—a “move” of the family) in 1988 from Frankfurt, Germany to the Defense Intelligence Agency in Washington, D.C.  I had taken my three most valuable (to me) pistols with me to Germany—one that my father had captured in WWII*, one that my aunt had carried with her as a Red Cross worker in England during WWII**, and one, a beautifully engraved Colt .45 caliber automatic, that a great uncle had sold to my father***.  As the .45 automatic was my service sidearm throughout my 21-year Army career, that pistol was particularly dear to me.  All three were very special to me, and that’s why I took them with me to Germany instead of storing them somewhere in the States during my three-year tour of duty in Frankfurt.

.25 Beretta from WWII*
  Aunt’s 9mm Beretta**
Colt .45 Automatic Engraved and Used Extensively by Robert C. Staley in the 1920’s and 30’s***

     The U.S. Army contracts with commercial moving firms for moving a family’s household goods from one station to another, and sometimes the contractors are not the best.  Damage was to be expected, theft was not unusual, and there was a saying in those days: “Three moves equals one fire.”  As I prepared to move back to the States in 1988, I pondered the risk of having my pistols stolen, and I decided to take them with me in my luggage.  The procedures for taking weapons in luggage on airlines are strict, but I followed them and had no difficulty.  However, customs at Dulles Airport was different.  I was in uniform and with my family, and I had two official firearm forms listing the weapons, but the customs agent confiscated all three pistols because I was missing a form that the customs agent said was required.  My protests were useless.  The customs agent informed me how I might get the pistols back by visiting a certain office in D.C.

     Fortunately, since my new duty station was D.C., visiting the office was not greatly inconvenient.  When I went to the office, on an upper floor in one of the big federal buildings in the city — after phone calls, etc. — I encountered a polite civilian who opened a safe and gave me my pistols.  He commented, “They should not have taken these from you.”  Small comfort.

     So, maybe I’m “gun shy,” but I never want to encounter something like that again.

     As we finalized our move to Maryland in March, I pondered how to find a new home for my pistols.  My children don’t want them, so I arranged for a cousin to take my collection.  He’s a generation younger than I, and he very much appreciates the firearms, which range from a rare homemade Civil War pistol to the service sidearm standard in the Army in the early 2000’s.

     We members of the Class of 1969 chose “the profession of arms.”  None of us is perfect, and our civilian masters aren’t perfect.  We have to do the best we can but make allowances for the inevitable imperfections and move on.  My way to deal with my pistol collection, and the possibility that I might inadvertently violate Maryland’s laws, was to give away the collection.  It’s still “in the family,” and it’s in the hands of the next generation.  I’m comfortable with that.

*My father “captured” the pistol when his field hospital occupied a hospital in Italy, where the retreating Axis forces had left not only patients (who were then cared for by my father’s unit) but a significant quantity of military supplies.  At the time, my father was the Headquarters Company commander of the field hospital.  The .25 caliber Beretta was the standard sidearm of certain Italian officers; this particular pistol was brand new, still in cosmoline.

**My aunt served in the Red Cross, primarily in London, during WWII.  Her Red Cross career extended well into the 1980’s and included a tour of duty in Vietnam.  Her tour of duty there overlapped with my tour of duty with the 101st Airborne (Airmobile) Division.  However, because of the distance between us (she was in the Saigon area, and I was at Camp Eagle, near Hue City) and the demands on both of us, we never got together in Vietnam.

***That great uncle was Robert C. Staley, a real old-time Texas lawman with several experiences through which he barely kept his life.  This Colt .45 was the sidearm he used most during his three careers. Uncle Bob wrote the history of each of the guns he sold to my father, and here is a verbatim excerpt from his history of the Colt .45: “The right-hand walnut grip on this gun is inlaid with GI issue eagles, plus my initials RCS and USBP in ivory.  In my younger, more foolish days, I once backed up to the piano in Mrs. Crosby’s saloon in Villa Acuña, Mexico and reaching back pried a couple ivory keys from it.  Then I made the above inlays from one of them.  At the time I did this the “USBP” of course meant United States Border Patrol.  Later–years later, and purely by chance I entered the Prohibition Service and the inlay held good–United States Bureau Prohibition.  Then, of all things, after the country went dry, and I was out of work, I took a job (until fired) with the U.S. Bureau of Prisons at La Tuna, Tex, north of El Paso, and again USBP was fully applicable.  Funny how things happen isn’t it.  It seems so damned unlikely that such a thing would occur–like it was “pre-destined.”

General MacArthur, Two-part Authentication and Army Football – 2008

     In 1957 and 1958 my family saw many Army football games at Michie Stadium. My father had classmates from VPI (Virginia Polytechnic Institute), now Virginia Tech who then attended West Point and graduated in about 1944 and were living in the Lee housing area in the late 1950s. We would come up on Saturday morning from Long Island for the parade and football game sitting in the bleachers with the “army brats“ (children of staff and faculty). I was about 11 1/2 at that time and afterwards some of the kids and I would sneak down to Flirtation Walk to harass cadets and their dates. The next morning, we would go to Sunday school with cadet instructors.

Flirtation Walk at West Point

    Pete Dawkins, class of 1959, was halfback of the 1958 Army football team prior to teaching some of us in the national security seminar as Cows and Firsties (juniors and seniors) at West Point. Bill Carpenter, class of 1960, was the lonesome end on the same team not going to the huddle between plays. Many wondered how he knew what route to run. How was he getting signals? Some hypothesized that the quarterback’s foot position had something to do with the signal.

     In 2008, the inaugural John Feagin Leadership Seminar was inaugurated named for John Feagin who was the second doctor to have attended West Point and become a surgeon. He was the orthopedic surgeon who took care of Coach K and many of us as cadets at West Point. In his honor the Feagin Leadership Seminar was established at the Duke University Fuqua School of Business. ( A Tribute to Army Docs – 1995 – The Days Forward ) Coach K, Pete Dawkins, and others were featured speakers that year.  That afternoon, some of us were in a stadium box at Wade Stadium at Duke watching the Duke football game. I asked Pete Dawkins how Carpenter, the lonesome end, got his signals.

Pete Dawkins at West Point
Bill Carpenter at West Point

     Pete told me that Coach Blaik (Blaik coached for 18 seasons at Army compiling a 121–32–10 record and Coach of the Year honors.), was musing with General MacArthur at a football practice one fall afternoon about signaling Bill Carpenter. General MacArthur responded by suggesting a two-part code. Presumably, General MacArthur had been using this in some of his wartime communications. One part of this code was the foot position of the quarterback. If it was back, it would be the first part of the code telling Bill Carpenter to look to the sideline to one of the coaches for the second part of the code that would tell Carpenter what route to run. If a foot was not back, Carpenter would run whatever pattern he wanted to run ignoring sideline signals. That’s a two-part code. The two-part code obviously worked very well for Army football in 1958. The two-part code or two-part authentication, as we now know it, goes back to at least the 1950s and General MacArthur, a fan of Army football.

General MacArthur as a West Point Cadet

The 1958 Army football team finished undefeated with an 8– 0–1 record, scored 264 points, with the defense allowing only 49 points and finished third in national collegiate football rankings. Bill Carpenter was a consensus first team player in the 1959 college football All-American team. Pete Dawkins, Army First Captain was the senior ranking cadet in the Corps of Cadets at West Point. He won the Heisman Trophy as a senior in 1958, and the Maxwell Award as the collegiate football player of the year.  He was a consensus first team All American selection. The two-part code obviously worked very well for Army football in 1958.

   Heisman Trophy
Maxwell Award

                                                                         

Watch for the two-part authentication code when Army beats Navy!

Gray Hogs Travelogue, Chapter 2 – 2018

Chapter 2 – 2018

THE CLASS OF ’69 GRAY HOG MOTORCYCLE RIDE NUMBER 2 – APRIL 2018 TO COMFORT, TEXAS AND THE TEXAS HILL COUNTRY!

     With the success of the first ’69 Gray Hog Motorcycle ride, Jack Nesbitt suggested that we consider the Hill Country of Texas as our destination for ride number 2!  Jack picked out the Meyer (Hotel) Bed and Breakfast in Comfort TX as our headquarters and hotel for the 2018 ride!  It was right on the Guadalupe River and right in the center of the Texas Hill country with many great motorcycle roads and routes!

     Of note on this ride was the fact that Colleen Smith was riding the Can Am Spyder on her own while husband Dale was on his beautiful new Indian Motorcycle!  Kudos to Colleen for riding all the way from Oklahoma and with us old guys!

     We gathered for dinner on the arrival date, April 18.  In attendance on this trip were:

Riders:

  • Jack & Mimi Nesbitt
  • Dale & Colleen Smith
  • Phil & Leti Brant
  • Gary & Donna Bogema
  • Dan & Suzy Meischen
  • Jim Calandro
  • Jim Russell
  • Bob Yaap
  • Ed Johnson ‘66

Non-riders:  Steve & Arlene Vitucci, Judy & Mike Ludlow, Sam & Barbara Granett, H & Patty Lobdell

Dinner in Comfort, TX

     Day 1 of riding (April 19) was a wonderful drive on the Twisted Sisters highways.  Lunch was at a great motorcycle hangout/bar/restaurant all by itself in the middle of the hill country!  There were about 40 Polaris Slingshots at the facility which was a sight to see.

Some of the Polaris Slingshots in Texas Hill Country

     That evening Dan Meischen had arranged for a dinner and a wine tasting at a Winery near Comfort.  We had a lesson in grape growing and making of wine by the owner.  We were then hosted for a dinner of just our group on the Winery grounds.

Wine-tasting near Comfort, Texas

More Gray Hog Fun at the Winery

     Day 2 was another beautiful day and we rode the hills of central Texas.  We stopped in Spanish Oaks (just west of Austin) and Sam and Barbara Granett hosted us to a great lunch at their community center.  We had the whole place to ourselves, and it was a great time to visit.  We returned to Comfort that night for a nice dinner in town.

The Gray Hogs in Spanish Oaks, TX

     Day 3 of riding was a trip to Fredricksburg, TX for lunch and a visit to the Nimitz Museum and hotel.  There was even a submarine at the museum!  We concluded the 3 days of riding with a group dinner. 

     Day 4 was departure day, and we all returned home!  Gray Hog Ride number 3 was in the history books and a good time was had by all!

Gray Hogs Travelogue, Chapter 1 – 2015

Chapter 1 – 2015

Background:  In 2014 Bob Yaap and Jack Nesbitt were talking about our motorcycles and rides that we had been on.  Jack suggested that we try to organize a gathering of our classmates for a destination trip of all those classmates that ride motorcycles.  We gathered a list of those we knew were still riding motorcycles and we sent out a message to the Class forum and Class blog finding out if there was any interest. 

        We were pleased with the response by many classmates that were interested.  Jack and I felt like it would be best to schedule our first classmate ride in the summer months and in the middle of the country.  Jack suggested Taos NM which was near his home in Ruidoso NM and provided great roads for riding motorcycles.  Jack secured the Taos Inn as our headquarters/accommodations for the trip and the date was for August of 2015.

     One side story of our survey of interest was that of classmate Dale Smith and his wife Colleen who live in Oklahoma City.  Dale told Jack that he would be interested in joining in on the ride.  Jack asked him what kind of motorcycle he had.  He answered that he didn’t have one yet, but he was looking forward to getting one!  We’re not sure if he had ever owned one, but come August of 2015, Dale and Colleen arrived in Taos on their 3-month-old Can Am Spyder.  They have been on all 4 of our rides so far, organized and planned our 2019 Northeast Oklahoma ride and now Dale owns 4 motorcycles and Colleen rides the Can Am Spyder by herself to the gatherings!

     We decided to call ourselves the Gray Hogs (Harley Davidson Motorcycles are respectfully referred to as Hogs in the Motorcycle community)!  I had my granddaughter who is an artist develop a logo and we ordered shirts, hats, patches (most motorcycle riders adorn their riding vest w/ patches of where they have been, unit patches from military units, etc.) and polo shirts.  Here is the coin minted for the ’69 Gray Hogs!

Gray Hogs ’69 Coin

’69 Gray Hog 1st Motorcycle Rally/trip to Taos NM August 20 – 23, 2015

We gathered at the Taos Inn for drinks, meeting and dinner on August 20th at the Taos Inn. In attendance from ’69 were:

  • Jack & Mimi Nesbitt-Riding a Can Am Spyder
  • Dale & Colleen Smith – Riding a Can Am Spyder
  • Dan & Suzy Meischen – Riding a Harley
  • Phil & Leti Brant-Riding a Harley
  • Jim Russell – Riding a Honda
  • Jim Bachta – Riding his 70’s vintage BMW
  • Pete Miles – riding a rented Harley
  • Bob Yaap – Riding a Polaris Slingshot
  • Ed Johnson ’66 – riding w/ Bob in the Slingshot

Roger Balog hosted us on day 1 to a nice barbecue at his 2nd home in Red River, NM

Gray Hog Motorcycle Riders Get Started

     Day one-Aug 21  We did a nice loop around the towns of Taos, Angel Fire and Red River.  Angel Fire is a scenic valley with a Ski resort and a nice Vietnam War Memorial.  We toured the Memorial which was originally built by Dr. & Mrs. Westphal in honor of their son David, who was a 1st Lt and killed in Vietnam in May of ’68.  The Memorial is now run by the VA and is a must see, particularly by Vietnam vets visiting the area.  Pictures of our group are shown below. The West Point Class of ’63 has a plaque honoring their classmates who fell in Vietnam.

Gray Hogs at Angel Fire Memorial

A Pause At Angel Fire

     From Angel Fire we drove to Red River NM and were hosted to a wonderful barbecue by classmate, Roger Balog at his beautiful cabin.  On the way back to Taos Jim Bachta’s vintage BMW motorcycle had the clutch cable break.  No clutch…no shifting…no go!  Not Jim!  He figured if he got the RPM’s just right, he could shift without a clutch.  Difficult, if not impossible to do on newer bikes!  Jim did it masterfully and made the 50-mile ride to the hotel safely. 

Gray Hogs At Roger Balog’s Cabin

Red River NM Stop

 

     On day 2 we drove down to Santa Fe to spend the day.  Beautiful weather and a pleasant day in a unique town.  One highlight was the local church that had a circular staircase that was not supported by a center pole!  Quite the engineering fete and a great story of its construction. 

Visiting The Loretto Chapel in Santa Fe, New Mexico

The Floating Staircase in the Loretto Chapel

     We had a group dinner in Santa Fe and we were joined by Jack & Becky Gloriod who drove (their car) down from Colorado Springs.  Jim Bachta and Jim Russell were unable to join us as they were trying to track down a clutch cable for a 45+ year old BMW.  With no luck in finding the cable they decided to depart Taos early.  Bachta drove approx. 400 miles back to Colorado Springs on his ‘clutchless’ BMW with Jim Russell traveling as his wingman.  Bachta said it wasn’t that hard as most of the ride was on the freeway!  Regardless, he is a true motorcyclist to say the least!

Jim Bachta’s “Clutchless” BMW

     On day 3 we had an easy short ride to Rio Grande del Norte National Monument.  It was a deep river chasm in the middle of the NM desert! 

Deep River Chasm in the New Mexico Desert
Gray Hogs at the Bridge Overlooking the River

     We returned to the Taos Inn for a group dinner the last night!  On the next morning, we all departed for our individual homes!  The first ’69 Gray Hog Motorcycle ride was in the history books, and it was a big success for all!

To see videos of the Gray Hogs, click this link: Gray Hog Motorcycle Riders – YouTube