Tomorrow I visit my classmates in Cle Elum! What are the odds that I’ll be able to finish this Cle Elum Memories series before I head out? I still have 15 anecdotes to share.
Maybe I’ll truncate painfully. And maybe not. We’ll see!
In No Particular Order
One thing I often think about when I remember living in Cle Elum is the fact that the skies overhead are so light-pollution-free that it’s possible to see a gazillion stars in the sky at night. During a great majority of the year in Cle Elum, you can go outside, place a sleeping bag underneath you, and stargaze, losing yourself in the wonder of the cosmos. I have never lived anywhere else where you can do that. And I miss it! I truly do.
When you’re gazing at the stars, you realize how small you are in the great scheme of things and yet how magnificent it is that we humans can truly ponder and appreciate what’s up there and what’s right down here.
Stargazing is something all generations did before electricity came along and now, in order to stargaze, you have to drive far out of town or vicariously watch on programs like COSMOS. Most first world humans don’t have the nightly ability to see many stars with the naked eye, and I think we are worse of for it, as a result.
Abdul Abulbul Amir
The only time in my life I ever saw (or, I should say, HEARD) my mother drunk was one night after Mom and Dad returned from some event in Ellensburg or Cle Elum. Mom came home very drunk. She didn’t make it into the house. She sat down on the front lawn and sang every single verse of Abdul Abulbul Amir, a song I had never heard before. She sounded so happy! (Slurry as hell, but happy!)
I think that’s the last night she drank because she didn’t remember a minute of the night the next day, and that scared her. (Her brothers were all alcoholics, and her husband was, and when they said they couldn’t remember some nights, she thought they just were so ashamed that they didn’t want to remember them.Then it happened to her, and she swore off, which was easy for her to do because she wasn’t addicted. She was an occasional social drinker.)
Meeting DeForest Kelley and Leonard Nimoy
I was living in Cle Elum the first time I met DeForest Kelley and Leonard Nimoy.
I met De in Wenatchee WA during the Apple Festival Parade on May 4, 1998. I have written entire books on what happened as a result of that first meeting, so I’ll point you to those if you don’t already know how it all turned out: https://amzn.to/40b5zy5
I took these pictures. I’m not in any of them. These are other fans…
I met Leonard Nimoy in Seattle during a Variety Club Telethon during the time he was portraying Paris on MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE.
De was gracious and interactive. Leonard was gracious but business-like. After meeting them both, I gravitated more toward De, and the rest is (my personal Hollywood-and-beyond) history!
Sonny Liston/Cassius Clay (Muhammad Ali) Fight
The only time I skipped school was the night Sonny Liston was scheduled to fight Cassius Clay (later Muhammad Ali) in 1964. Dad and I both wanted to watch the fight on a huge monitor LIVE at the Seattle Center but, to do that, Mom needed to get me out of school under a more legitimate reason than “Jack is going to take Kris to Seattle so they can watch two men beat the hell out of each other.”
So, we came up with a plan: at a certain hour, she would come get me and we would explain to the teacher that I had called Mom because I wasn’t feeling well suddenly, so Mom was going to take me home and put me to bed.
When Mom showed up, we simply could not lie to the teacher, so we said nothing and Mom just absconded with me. I’m sure the teacher assumed we had a darned good reason — perhaps a dental appointment or cramps — and she didn’t inquire. So, we got away scot-free without having to lie.
Dad probably wanted Liston to win, but I wanted Clay to win because he was so “purty” and so cock-sure of himself. He looked like a winner. Liston looked like a killer. I’m not a big fan of killers, especially when they’re looking at the Golden Boy the way Liston looked at Clay! (Spoiler alert for those of you not in the loop. Clay won!)
But, boy, when May 1968 came along four years later, it was “No, you’re not skipping school to go see Bobby Kennedy!” (Mom was a Republican back in the day when being a Republican was respectable). So, I missed my one and only chance to see one of my favorite politicians of all time up close and personal (just a week or so before he was assassinated in Los Angeles).
MAKING OUT
One time I walked into Laurel’s bedroom unannounced while she and Phil (my nephew Phil’s eventual dad, perhaps a decade later) were making out. They were fully clothed but fully engaged in a heavy petting session when I walked in. I quickly turned on my heels and exited as quickly as I had come. Not long after, Laurel came by and asked me not to tell Dad or Mom. I promised her I wouldn’t say a word!
PHIL WAS A DARLING “BROTHER” TO ME
Phil McNiven Jr. was a wonderful “brother” to me despite the fact that he was sparking with Laurel and eventually married Jackie. He was the guy who always stood up for me whenever Dad treated me like crap (which he did a lot, because we didn’t see eye-to-eye on most things and he called me stupid because of it). Phil would stop by my room to tell me not to believe anything negative that Dad ever said to or about me. He told me I was a wonderful person and not to let anyone else ever tell me differently.
Laurel was a Tyrant
My sister Laurel was a tyrant. Usually whenever Mom and Dad would go out, they would leave Laurel (the eldest) in charge of Jackie and me, and Laurel took “taking charge” to extremes.
I remember one time when Jackie was excitedly waiting all day long for Hollywood Palace to come on at 8 that night so she could see Debbie Reynolds perform on it. She talked about it endlessly, almost breathlessly, in eager anticipation. It was well known and understood that Jackie was going to be enjoying her favorite actress on Hollywood Palace that night at 8 p.m. sharp.
Mom and Dad went out that night, so Laurel was in charge. At 7:55 she announced, “Jackie, go to bed.”
Jackie fairly shrieked, “I’m going to watch Debbie Reynolds on Hollywood Palace tonight!’
Laurel said, “No, you’re not!’
Well, like Lenny in OF MICE AND MEN, that was my Last Straw. I took my eyeglasses off and literally threw them on the kitchen counter. Laurel could see how enraged I was. You better believe that Jackie got to watch Debbie Reynolds on Hollywood Palace that night!
Another time (Dad was aware of Laurel’s bossiness) I got into a near fistfight with Laurel over some contentious trifle. We ended up flying off the porch and onto the ground, where I straddled her and was about to smash her face in with my fist (while Dad watched and didn’t interfere) when I suddenly came to my senses and realized that I didn’t want our argument to end this way. I stopped and got up.
It was enough. I think that’s as close as we came to a fistfight ever again.
MAN ON THE MOON – JULY 20, 1969
Just a month and two weeks after I graduated from high school. John Glenn took his famous “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” I went outside at 7:39 that night to look up at the moon (it was still daylight outside in Cle Eum at that time but the lunar orb was visible in the sky) to deeply ponder and appreciate, “There are two men standing on that moon right now.” I will never forget it. I took a picture of the moon with my camera, but when I developed the image, the moon appeared to be so much smaller than the moon had looked in the sky when I took it that night, I was deeply disappointed. Still, I had that pale yellow dot in an image to document the hour!
CLE ELUM BEES — I hope they don’t come in 3’s!
One sunny afternoon I was riding one of our horses and Ben Kraft was riding behind me on the same horse.
Suddenly, a bee stung the horse and she reared up. I fell backward off her and landed on the ground on top of Ben, knocking him unconscious!
Unaware that I could injure him by trying to stand him up, I kept lifting him up and crying out, “Ben! Ben!”
He regained consciousness fairly quickly but it was about the scaredest I have ever been…
Until the day, years later, in Cle Elum when my nephew Phil got stung by a bee and went into anaphylactic shock. Thanks to my quick thinking and my recent Warner Bros. Emergency Services First Responder/Disaster Recovery training, I knew we had to get Phil to the ER asap, so after my dad’s car died as we drove him in, I flagged down a car driven by a Zrebiec who was on her way to Mass. She drove Phil the rest of the way, saving his life.
The ER doctor said if he had arrived as little as two minutes later, there is nothing they could have done to save him…
Near Rape
In Cle Elum, one of our ranch hands, Eddie Hughes (he was Welsh) tried to rape me one night. It happened in the old stagecoach stop home.
Mom and Dad were out, and I guess Laurel must have been in Germany by then. Eddie and I were watching some TV show (sitting in different parts of the living room, not close together). When the program ended, we both stood up. He headed for the door and opened it as I turned off the TV.
I said, “Goodnight, Eddie,” and he closed the door and took hold of me saying, “I haven’t said goodnight to you yet.”
I tried to step back, and repeated, “Good night, Eddie!”
He grabbed me tighter, so I put my hands and arms out against his chest to keep him as far away from me as I could.
Now, you have to understand. This guy was strong as an ox. He could have lifted Jackie and me (and we were pretty hefty) off the ground at the same time. So I sensed immediately that I was in a pickle. There was no one around to call out to.
I said, “Eddie let me go.”
He just stood there with a sickening half-smile on his face, waiting for me to either surrender to his intentions or to tucker out sufficiently so he could go further unilaterally.
I remembered then, “This guy has a bad knee. If I kick it, he will let go.”
But, as a young teenager, I felt kicking an older guy was rude. (Jeez!) And I didn’t really want to hurt him, or to risk escalating what was happening. I just wanted the situation to END… ideally, peacefully!
He was intent on holding me firmly until he got his way. There was no doubt about it
So, suddenly, I jumped straight into the air and then collapsed immediately to the floor. He lost his grip on me, and I skedaddled!
When he finally left, I locked the doors and trembled for hours.
I didn’t tell Mom or Dad about the incident for two or three days. But because I was so afraid Eddie would try again, I finally told them what happened.
They grilled me thoroughly to make sure that nothing more occurred than what I had told them. I assured them it hadn’t.
Dad fired Hughes as soon as he found out and I could finally breathe normally again.
TEARING DOWN THE OLD STAGECOACH STOP
I will regret forever that we allowed someone to tear down the old stagecoach stop. It would be a Historic Site these days.
The fellow who tore it down for Dad said he would do it for free if he could keep anything inside it that he found during the demolition. Dad agreed to that. What the guy found included old newspapers that had been used as insulation inside the walls, coins, arrowheads and a cornucopia of other artifacts. I wish I knew everything he found in there. He took it apart slowly, piece by piece, so whatever he was finding was worth that degree of painstaking effort.
FINAL THREE MEMORIES
My final three memories took place in Cle Elum years after we left there.
One time I was riding shotgun behind Dad on an All Terrain Vehicle up on Teanaway Ridge. At some point along the way, I heard a speciifc bird and smelled a particular scent that gave me a happy flashback into my grandmother’s (Dad’s mother’s) back yard in Parkland, so I told Dad about it, describing her old place in Parkland to a T. It was a true flashback and we both smiled
That led me to ask Dad if he ever had flashbacks like that to when he was a kid. He said, sadly, “Yes, I do. But none of my childhood memories are happy.”
None. Of. My. Childhood. Memories. Are. Happy.
I realized then that I was dealing with a truly troubled, perhaps uniquely damaged spirit, a wounded soul.
I cut Dad a lot of slack after that exchange. He had managed to give us an amazingly happy childhood, all things considered: trips to Disneyland (when that trek from WA to LA was a bear!), holiday and birthday treasures in abundance…and so much more. Sure, he had his issues and his temper and his drinking, but I thought, “If I had been brought up the same way, I would probably have self-medicated in much the same way.”
When you know someone’s back story it becomes a lot easier to forgive them.
I forgave my Dad that day… and once again shortly before he died.I will be forever grateful that I did and that he knew I did.
I loved my dad, warts and all.
WISDOM FROM MOM AND DAD
Among the quotes I remember from Mom and Dad during my upbringing, two stand out most starkly.
One time I told Dad I couldn’t do something that he knew I was entirely capable of doing if I put my mind and heart into it (but I didn’t want to do that). When I said that, he shot back, “Can’t never did nothin’!!!”
Wow! That woke me up and I always remembered it. His comment continues to inspire me to this day.
As for my mom’s wisdom, any time I had a setback or a downturn or a heartache, she always told me, “Kris, if this is the worst thing that happens to you in your life, you’ll be lucky.” She said this so sincerely that I never took it as a kind of “oh, get over it,” or “walk it off” critique but as a genuine insight. And she has always been right… so far!
And when I was a very wee one (before Cle Elum) one time I fell down on the carpeted rug. The fall startled and scared me, but it didn’t really hurt me. I looked up at my Mom, who quickly gauged my level of injury (none). Before I could muster up a cry, she asked me, “Oh my! Did you hurt the ground?!”
Immediately, my focus went from my own discomfort to the ground! I took stock of its condition and reported, “No!” She responded, “Oh, that’s good. So nobody got hurt! Come here and get a hug!”
What a terrific response.
She was NOT a helicopter parent.
She was a practical, observant nurturer, but not a coddler.
I will be forever grateful for THAT!
And Finally … Our 10th and 25th High School Class of ’69 Reunions
I drove to Cle Elum (with my serval son kitten Deaken) for the 10th anniversary of our Class of 1969 high school reunion. It took place in a park for the most part (at least the bits I remember best did) and we had a lot of fun reconnecting. But I was made aware at that time how few of my friends were in the same year of school that I was. Val Chase (now Barrett) was and is, and I believe Barb Gladson was and is (we were in school plays together), but otherwise, the folks I reconnected with were classmates, not close friends.
So I didn’t think much about attending future class reunions until the 25th. By then I had worked in Hollywood, written several books, and I wanted to see how others had fared in the 25 years we’d been doing our own things. So I attended our 25th and discovered that Boise Adkins (who wasn’t present at the reunion and who, in school, always used to talk so fast that I rarely understood a word he said) had written a seminal textbook on diabetes, along with some other pretty freaking amazing things about other classmates. I reconnected at that one with Patty Walsh who hadn’t appeared to have aged a day in 25 years, and a few others who stopped by briefly to say hi in passing (the twins Louis and Sandy Savidge among them).
I intended to attend the 30th anniversary, too, but that was the year De was dying and I was acting as his personal assistant and caregiver, so I missed that one, regrettably.
I will attend the 55th, I expect, which isn’t very far away. I will do that because tomorrow I’m reconnecting with classmates I didn’t get to connect with much while I was in school, and yet they embraced my transgender truth when I came out in 2016 or 2017 and sent me money for a masculine wardrobe makeover along with notes of encouragement. My own family did their best to ignore my transition, so the fact that my Cle Elum ladies reached out during what would otherwise have been a sad, lonely time for me makes my heart swell with love and gratitude.
These. Are. Not. Just. Friends. But. Family. People I would choose as family had I been given the option.
I hope whatever powers there be in the cosmos bless them with whatever will make their lives as happy as their reaching out to me made mine.
