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I came across an old picture of a group of boys in T shirts on the campus of the University of Alabama in the summer of 1957, and memories flashed back and forth across my old memory bank just as clear as the day is long.  (Long as in a summer day).  Those 17 year old boys were members of City 1 of the 1957 Alabama Boys State sent to Tuscaloosa from all over the state.

I might have  figured I would weave the University into this narrative, so I’ll finish up that aspect right now.  With me and all the other fellows for that week were three fellows who, the next year, played their football with The Bear and the Crimson Tide.  They were end Tommy Brooker from Demopolis, halfback Billy Richardson from Jasper, and halfback Roy Shoemaker from Mobile.

Since that warm summer of 1957 I have been a fan of Boys State, and that has been solidified by my presenting checks as Commander of the Marengo County American Legion to young men going from local schools to Boys State each summer for many years.  I expect they still wear those white T shirts with “Alabama Boys State” imprinted across the front. Hope so.

Then, as now, this gathering of young men in every state, every year is designed for them to have fun, to meet new folks, to play sports, to learn responsibilities of citizenship, the ABC’s of politics, functions of each office from city Mayor to Governor, and to actually elect boys to fill those slots during the week, culminating toward the end of the week spent at the capitol. One of my City 1 buddies was elected as governor, and many years later, he and I met up in court as lawyers on opposite sides of a legal matter. Glad to get reacquainted after so long a time.

Back there in ’57 there were some real life dramas, such as the night I got to telling jokes and funny stories to boys on my floor. We were hooting and laughing to beat the band.  Big Cliff Harper, the director, came up, and quieted us down one time, but the next time he ordered us to come down the stairs to his office on first floor.  Here came about ten of us in our multicolored underwear, at which time Mr. Harper told us he could figure out some suitable punishment for us, or we could each take one lick from his belt, and go to bed.  We all, as one, bent over, received our lick of honor, and obediently headed to the bunk beds, but still with a chuckle in our throats.

About the middle of the week, it came time for each city to select one boy to get up on stage, pick a subject out of a hat, and speak on it.  That was to be an extemporaneous speech.  Now, since I had proved to be a good story teller, I was elected from my city to get up there, but this boy from Linden had never even heard that word, and had no idea that when I picked a subject I was to talk about it with all the knowledge I had on that subject.  Well, bless Pete if my subject didn’t end up being to comment on Russia’s nuclear missile program, about which I had no clue.

Now, I remember looking out at that large crowd of fellows and some adults, and the first words out of my mouth were, “Well, those Russian fellows got these great big ol’ bombs.”  For some reason or ‘nother, the crowd got to laughing, and so I caught on, and commenced to making up stuff about Russia and all, amongst increasing laughter.  Got by with it.

Lesson learned:  Politicians ought not to take themselves too seriously.