When I entered Caldwell High School, I carried a reputation as a fist fighter. People used to try to pick fights with me just to see how they could do, or to be able to say that they had fought Dick Sanders. I kept true to my promise to my Dad and never picked fight, only fought fair, and told him about the fights. One funny fight experience occurred in my junior year when I went to the Church to pick up Nancy from Primary. It was across the street from the school bus stop where some of the High School buses dropped students to transfer to another bus route.
Jedie Baker was a tough, very strong kid raised on a sheep farm. Though we had always had a friendly relationship, but he ran with a rough crowd. He had been showing signs that he wanted to try me out. He was known to be quite a tough fighter. He came across the road and invited himself into the back seat of my car and started to light a cigarette. I told him that no one was allowed to smoke or drink in my car and I asked that he refrain. He said a cuss word and said he was going to, anyway. I asked him to get out and to not even strike a match. He did strike the match and, before the kids started coming out of the Church, I ran around the car and pulled him out. He started swinging at me and I quickly retreated to the alley behind the Church. Soon other high school students gathered around us as we fought. He threw hard hitting haymakers (big arching swings) and I did my jab thing. He did clip me on the nose and made it bleed, much to his delight, because thus far no one had ever made a face hit on me. I looked pretty bad with blood all over but my nose would bleed just from going from cold room to a hot room, so no biggy. It didn’t even hurt. I puffed up his eyes and tried to end it faster, to avoid Primary children seeing us, by throwing a right to his chin. He was knocked down and stunned and that stopped the fight, just in time. I helped him up and we headed over to the Jr High to clean up in time to avoid the Primary kids, both of us very jovial and friendly, having just enjoyed a great fight.
The next day, as I came into my locker area at school, he was standing with his back to me talking a bunch of my friends and others describing the fight as though he had put a good beating on me. They were looking over his shoulder at my unmarked face and at his black eyes, swollen lips, nose and chin as I approached him from behind and said, yeah, Jeddie, you got the best of me, I broke my right ring finger on your jaw. He said, “Oh my (cuss) Sanders, you got me too.”
So that was the way things were when and where I grew up. I counted 14 fist fights in my school career and told Dad of all of them with good conscience that I had kept our rules. Many were very short “coming out ceremonies” for some guys and most were defensive of others. But I fully stopped when I began to be fueled by pride. I did participate in a Boxing class at BYU my freshman year. Since I had some knowledge beyond that of the coach, he asked me to be his assistant. However, I soon came to the opinion that there was a contradiction in seeking to to develop my mind while putting it at risk. I dropped out and that ended my fisticuffs. I recognize that this rendition of my fisticuffs career may, in and of itself sound boastful or prideful; however, it was required to make full my personal history. It is part of who I was and am.
High School was a lot of fun for me. I enjoyed football, even though I never got to be a starter. I was very fast but had poor peripheral vision needed to see cuts as a running back. I also seemed to lose my steam because of the lack of sleep and heavy work at home. Never the less, I still loved playing the game. Our head coach was also not well skilled in teaching and training and leading a team. In the Twin Falls game my senior year, when he wouldn’t even come into the dressing room at half time because things were not going well, our team leaders simply took over the game and made all substitutions and called all plays themselves in the second half. This yielded for us a dominant win. We had the guys but a poor coach/leader. I learned much from that lesson. He also coached track but only had a few turn out. So sad!
Now choir was my real joy. Mrs. Wagner, formerly mentioned, put on the musical, “Oklahoma” my sophomore year and I was in the supporting cast, and then “The King and I” my senior year. I shared the King lead with Ernie Scott. We each performed 3 times. It was so fun and rewarding. We sold out each show and got rave reviews. I loved the practices, the comradery and all about it. I must mention that Mrs. Wagner’s husband was formerly a tenor in the NY Opera and she was formerly an accompanist for the same. He had retired and was teaching voice at the College of Idaho in Caldwell and also taught many of us voice lessons.
Our choir won all of the State and regional competitions and I also participated in a barbershop quartet that won first place awards. So fun!
I have often noted that following HS I never played another lick of pad football but throughout my life, I have really found joy in church choirs and other productions, even on my Mission.
I must mention some of my special teachers. #1, Mrs. Eleanor Peterson, “Ma Pete”. She was my Jr year English teacher, an older woman and known to be very demanding and stringent. We didn’t start out very well. As she called role the first class she called for me as Walter Sanders. I politely said, “Here, and I prefer to go by Dick.” She straightly replied that, “In my class, you will be referred to by your first given name.” I protested, insisting that Dick was my preference and how I was generally known. She then arose and escorted me to the Principal’s office where we both discussed our concerns. The Principal suggested to Mrs. Peterson that my request did not seem unreasonable and asked her to comply. She said fine and we returned to class and she never held it against me.
Her class was very hard, especially for me with so little time to do homework. She required a 1-2 page theme each week, plus major papers each semester, while being required to memorize significant parts of “Beowulf” which we were required to recite to the class upon her command while standing by our desks. Many hated her and her class, it was so hard and there was no way to slough through it. Two of our class mates were so mad that they did a terrible thing, put sugar in her car gas tank, destroying the engine. I saw her cry as she declared that it would not deter her from trying to prepare us and teach us to be scholars. That moment I determined to follow her ethic. I gave her my best.
As a new freshman at BYU I tested for “A” English class and it was a breeze. What she taught me blessed me all of my BYU days and enormously in Law School. When I came home for Christmas my freshman year, I took her a dozen roses and expressed my profound appreciation. She cried a bit and, playfully called me Walter and thanked me. I did not know until then that she had been a widow for many years. Thank you dear Ma Pete.
Another was Mr. Robert Day, an exchange program English teacher from England. He taught us college prep English. He told us some stories about the war. He was bombardier of the first bomber shot down by a jet plane, survived and escaped from prison of war camp, and now was teaching a class in Caldwell, Idaho. In our first class I had a black eye from football practice so he called me “Tiger”. He wasn’t as hard as Ma Pete but was hard in his own way. He focused a lot on literature and major book reports and research papers, short and long. He was great and a friend to our class, all serious students. He didn’t mind if we called him “R.D.”
On April Fools Day, we decided trick him. Wade Thomas brought a rubber pad that looked like barf. Carl Swenson began to moan and lay his head down and acted sick. RD suggested that he should go the nurse’s office but Carl said he would be OK. When RD turned around, Wade dropped the barf pad on the floor by Carl and Carl pretended to puke. RD immediately hustled Carl to the nurse’s office and sent the janitor to attend to the problem. Some of us spit on the floor and spread it around to look authentic. The janitor sensed that something was going on and gave us the eye. When RD returned we said we had already cleaned it up. He told the janitor to, never the less, mop the area with something to disinfect. Then, he turned to me and said, “Tiger, would you please open a window, the source may be gone, but the odor lingers on.” We totally got him but when he later realized it and, in charge of lunch line that day, about starved us to death as he kept move us to the end of the line. He was fun and a great teacher.
I am sorry to admit that I do not remember my chemistry teacher’s name but he was excellent. Many others were also fine teachers that I still appreciate. One coach stands out. Mr. Bonaminio, who always thought me to be starter material at halfback because of my speed and strength. Contrary to our poor head coach, who shall not be named, he tried to actually coach and teach and was an exemplary person. Our whole class still loves and honors him at reunions.
With my time limitations, I did not have much study time so I worked my tail off during study hall. Although I did not earn a high sanding in my class for grades, I learned and loved to learn. I became a reader in the 6th grade. Not fast but developed a great blessing of comprehension and retention. Most of my teachers knew me to be a serious student with major time constraints. Consequently, I was invited to be one of two of our class to participate in a testing competition for nomination to military academies. I was honored to be nominated first alternate to the Naval Academy by Idaho Senator Frank Church. The other guy failed the physical, so I became the nominee. However, although my color blindness became a barrier to me becoming a pilot, I had already determined to refuse because in those days I could not be given leave to serve a mission.
High school was generally a blast for me. I had some fun friends, had a sweet car, went to the proms, homecomings and the like, dated some sweet girls and generally enjoyed it. I had great attendance to Seminary though the cows made me late occasionally and I really got much of my detailed knowledge of the Gospel there. I was honored to graduate from Seminary.
OK, one more tale of fisticuffs. I loved to dance and we used to go to dances at the IOOF Hall in Caldwell and dance to Paul Revere and the Raiders, a band that went on to produce many #1 hit songs and became a nationally famous band,. One night I was waiting for someone in the hall after the dance with a few friends. I was standing with Gail Garvey, a very nice, pretty girl in my class, and some of her girlfriends. She and I loved to dance together and we could really do well. As the band was wheeling their stuff out, the lead singer, Mark Lindsey, out of the blue, made a very insulting comment directed at Gail. I insisted that he immediately apologize to which he responded by taking an unexpected, cheap shot swing at me. I fended it off and hit him once in the nose, which was thereupon badly broken. Others in the band grabbed him and told him to “back off, that’s Dick Sanders”. So, fortunately, that stopped it because I was the only guy in our group and outnumbered about 10 to 1. One more fight but for a good cause.
During my senior year, my family had a special, faith promoting experience. Dad and Mom did so well in sales of appliances that they won a trip to Portugal. While there, they decided to make a big jump and ordered a full train car load of appliances for a big sale. When they got going on the sale, they did well for a while, but the advertising results began to taper and then there was an economic down turn. As a result, the interest on the financing of the appliances began to eat them up and their business was threatened with foreclosure. We came together as a family in fasting and prayer. Dad had enough money to pay one more month of payments on the appliance flooring financing or pay tithing. We unanimously felt the spirit and believed that Dad should pay the tithing. The week after the tithing was paid, the warehouse came to Dad and offered to forgive all of the interest on the financing and let Dad pay for the appliances as he sold them. The wholesaler had other businesses they had financed but, because Dad had never been late in any payments, his was the only one they offered interest forgiveness. The business was saved and testimonies were strengthened.