The Day I Met Bill Churlik
When Sharon, Pennsylvania, native Bill Churlik started his freshman year at Newberry College, I was a sophomore. I didn't know what to make of him at first, with his shaggy beard and his expansive manner, which would have made Alan Hale, Jr., or John Rys Davies look like a wallflower. In those days, beards—especially shaggy ones—were taken as a social and political statement, and not the kind that a College Republican such as I would happen to like.
When Sharon, Pennsylvania, native Bill Churlik started his freshman year at Newberry College, I was a sophomore. I didn't know what to make of him at first, with his shaggy beard and his expansive manner, which would have made Alan Hale, Jr., or John Rys Davies look like a wallflower. In those days, beards—especially shaggy ones—were taken as a social and political statement, and not the kind that a College Republican such as I would happen to like.
I later learned that Bill was a Republican himself, and he wasn't all that crazy about his beard either. He had grown that beard to hide a scar he'd received as a result of a mortar explosion in Vietnam.
As it turned out, both Bill and I had been stationed along the My Tho River in Vietnam. We had vague recollections of having seen each other in Vietnam on one occasion, but that's another story, which I hope to commit to another page someday.
An Unconventional Condiment for a Hamburger
The G. I. Bill of Rights paid for about two thirds of my tuition to Newberry College. I had to work for the rest of it, and my father paid some as well.
For awhile, I had a part-time job in the college canteen. In addition to selling snacks, I also had to cook hot dogs, hamburgers, and I think a few other foods. At slower times of day or night, I worked alone.
Late one night when I was the only person in the whole place, a loud, and obnoxious drunk came in and demanded a hamburger. Nothing I did satisfied him and he even threatened violence if I didn’t get it for him in a hurry.
Of course, you can’t hurry cooking. The customer has no choice but to wait until the hamburger is done. It’s also unwise to irritate a short-order cook.
When the obnoxious drunk wasn’t looking, I put a booger in his hamburger. Even as he cursed and grumbled, I was able to give him service with a smile.
