St. John’s/NYU [1950 thru 1960s]
Basketball
Even before there was a Big East, St. John’s University, in Brooklyn in those days, was a powerhouse in the national college basketball scene. Its dominance in the sport was one of the influences when I was weighing college options in 1949-1950. Prior to entering St. John’s College as a freshman in the fall of 1950, I played basketball in school grounds and backyards. I was tall enough, at 6’1”, but I didn’t have the “beef” or athleticism to play on any school teams. But I enjoyed playing intramural basketball at St. John’s and I was also a starting center on a local team, the Merrick Rangers.
One memorable game with the Rangers took place at a local school gym. I stressed defense, hustle and rebounding, but was not very aggressive on the offense. In those days it was pass, pass, pass – and keep on passing until an outside shooter felt he had an opportunity for a two-handed set shot. But once, in a close game, the opposing defense must have been lax, so I dribbled down the left side for a lay-up with my right hand, which I missed. I was fouled and given two foul shots. My first free throw went in without touching the rim, but I missed the second. The Rangers went on to win the game – which was a low-scoring game, as they were back then. A few days later, in the local newspaper, there was an article on the game (fed to the paper by one of the team members) and it mentioned how I had scored at a critical point in the game. For some reason, my father read that account and asked me about it when I appeared at the dining room table. I shrugged it off, saying I wished I had made the second free throw.
At St. John’s I kept a basketball in my locker for use after classes at DeGray gym, the team’s home court, when they didn’t play at Madison Square Garden in Manhattan. The school custodians tolerated a few students who periodically played one-on-one or two-on-two half-court games in the darkened gym before it was opened for team practice or to be set up for some other function.
One afternoon I was slow getting off the court with my basketball and stood on the sidelines watching the players start to take their practice shots. Somehow my ball got mixed in with the “real” leather-covered basketballs. As my pebble-grained rubber, lopsided ball bounced out to one of the “Johnnies,” he picked it up, knew that it didn’t feel right and tossed it aside. I retrieved it and carried it back to my locker, trying to look as casual as I could.
Thus ended my scant fifteen minutes of sports fame, lived vicariously through my old worn-out basketball.
2008
Speech Lessons – 1950
In the fall of 1950 I started my college education at Saint John’s College of Arts and Sciences (men only then), in Brooklyn, New York. Most of the fellow freshmen came from Brooklyn and Queens, and we all needed the help of the required Speech course, which could have been titled Speech Correction. I spent a good portion of time learning, along with the others, how to overcome “Brooklynese.” We worked on words such as airplane, which sounded like “AIR-o-plane,” saying “COHL-ige” instead of “COLL-itch” and eliminating, as the Speech Instructor expressed it with an accent of simulated King’s English, “the 'Bahstardization' of Vowels” (we were incorrectly diphthongizing pure vowel sounds).
The first class assignment was for each student to give a short, humorous speech, and I prepared mine on the subject of “Handshakes.” The days we delivered these little talks were somewhat tedious, as each of the approximately twenty young men nervously delivered his “Tahlk.” As I began my presentation, I could see that my audience was plainly bored, so my references to problem handshakes – the bone-crusher and the limp fish – barely led to a snicker. I then earnestly exhorted the group to consider my proposal: “Because of these problems, along with the unsanitary aspects of hand shaking, I propose that society do away with this tradition and instead substitute THIS…”
At that point, I paused and waited for the sleepy, droopy eyes of my fellow classmates to look up to see what I was going to do.
I placed the five fingertips of my right hand together, pointing upward at about chest height, palm facing me. I then proceeded with an old-world hand signal, moving my hand up and down, pivoting at the wrist.
The few chuckles I received from the class were gratifying, but my pride was short-lived. Before I got back to my seat, the professor expressed his dissatisfaction. “Mister Bee-on-KERRY,” he said imperiously; “the talk was supposed to be humorous; but that was facetious.” He went on to say that handshaking was a serious topic and that a handshake was a good indicator of an individual’s personality. Later that day, I looked up the word “facetious” and still didn’t see why the teacher thought my remarks were un-humorous.
My grade for the course that semester was a 71, one of my lowest. But, I felt I learned a lot about communication.
January 27, 1998
GENUS: rattus - SPECIES: gymnasium
It was in the late spring of 1952; I was a sophomore at St. John’s College, standing in DeGray gym watching some of the varsity basketball players work out. The team had just completed a very successful season, having been in the NCAA finals. Normally the team had closed practices, but this was informal, with several students standing around watching.
Two players were positioned beyond the key, and the coach, Frank McGuire, tossed the ball to each for a long set-shot. The first was senior Bob (Zeke) Zawoluk – at six feet, seven inches, the All-American high-scoring center. He would set, then loft a two-hand throw to the basket and usually make it.
Coach McGuire told him, “That’s not fast enough for the pros.”
He then threw the ball to the other player, Jack McMahon, who would quickly release the ball – swish, net only.
Coach McGuire left St. John’s that summer to coach at the University of North Carolina and led them to an NCAA Championship in 1957. He briefly coached in the pros, before ending his career at the University of South Carolina.
McMahon, a fellow graduate from my high school, St Michael’s Diocesan, went on to a successful pro career from 1952 to 1960 – the Rochester Royals and the St. Louis Hawks, then as a coach.
Zawoluk tried pro basketball – one year with the Indianapolis Olympics, then two seasons with the Philadelphia Warriors, before a knee injury halted his career. I last law Bob when we exchanged greetings on a LIRR commuter train.
All three are gone now, beyond the pros. So I look forward to our next meeting, where there is never a missed shot and all teams are winners.
March 2012
Graduate School at N.Y.U. – 1950s
In the late 1950s, I attended evening classes at the Graduate School of Business at New York University, majoring in Management. One of the first courses I took was Basic Management, with the famous author and management guru, Peter F. Drucker (born in Vienna in 1909). The class was large – over 200 students jammed into a nearby business club meeting room, since no classroom at N.Y.U.’s downtown Manhattan campus was large enough in those days.
I recall one paper I submitted for that class was a report on Professor Drucker’s book “Concept of the Corporation,” a summary of his consulting efforts at General Motors in the 1940s. My report was no doubt a typical pedestrian effort. But my closing comments concerned a typographic error found toward the end of an early edition, which evoked a ludicrous image of someone “exercising demons.” At least it proved that I read the book carefully.
At the beginning of the lectures, Professor Drucker would take off his jacket and hang it on the portable blackboard he never used. Despite having so many students, he tried on occasion to get some class participation. But whatever question he tossed out was invariably not answered to his satisfaction. Even if an answer was partially valid, he would reply, in an Austrian accent, “No, that’s not quite right.” There was never a question as to who was in control.
One question I recall was clearly a class-stopper: “What single event in the past 100 years had the greatest economic and social impact in the U.S.?” All nominations the students offered – electricity, telephones, two worlds wars, the depression – were rejected. Finally, he told us: it was the mass production of the automobile – thus giving mobility to the farmers in rural America – thus enabling them to drive their wives to town on Saturday night – thus avoiding widespread mental illness caused by remoteness and loneliness.
Peter Drucker, considered “The Father of Modern Management,” was always thinking “outside the box,” even before boxes were invented.
November 2003