More Glimpses

Glimpses

(written by Harley Castleberry)

Heaven Beware

Alton was Chief Real Estate Appraiser with one of the largest savings & loans in Dallas, and my first boss, when we moved here from Clearview, TX.

He was probably about five foot-eight in height and had a rather slight build.  Like myself, Alton had been affixed with a little more nose than the average citizen and his loss of hair seemed to make his hooked proboscis more of a focal point.  His attire was always neat, usually dressed in sports coat, slacks and he always wore a tie.  Somewhat of a trademark was his ever-present dress hat (felt or straw depending on the season) with a narrow brim, turned down at the front.

To most within the organization who didn’t work closely with him, he gave the impression of being at arm’s length; hard-boiled and hard to get acquainted with.  What’s more, he seemed to relish the thought that others had that perception of him.  For those of us who knew him, he was really a pussycat with a wry sense of humor.

Early on, I recall of Alton’s telling me about one beautiful Sunday morning years ago, when he had gone out to buy a paper and during this outing he had found himself traveling south on the access road alongside of the Dallas Tollway.  This was somewhere in the area of Forest and Royal Lanes.  Several hundred yards ahead lay the entrance to the on-ramp of the toll road.

Alton said that he was traveling in the right-hand lane, a very short distance ahead in the left lane, was a car containing two elderly women dressed in their Sunday finery, complete with hats, presumably heading for church.  Alton observed the flashing of their right turn signal.  Realizing that the left lane immediately ahead of the ladies terminated into the on-ramp, Alton did what any gentleman would do.  He speeded up slightly!

The elderly female driver, seeing that she could not conveniently move to the right due to the increase in speed by the car in the right lane, proceeded to slow down in order to veer right when the lane became clear.

 I was not there, but knowing the access road and more importantly, knowing 
Alton Ward, I can very clearly see this whole scenario in my mind’s eye.  Here is Alton, quite dignified looking, dress hat in place, and from all appearances,
 an intelligent, conscientious, law abiding citizen.

Alton, facing dead ahead, likewise slows down as he observes from the corner of his eye, the deceleration of the vehicle immediately to his left.  (Is this guy a class act, or what?) 

Business in the left lane is beginning to pick up as the ramp looms ever nearer.  Suddenly, in what must have been a major move on the part of the elderly female driver, she opts for a burst of speed!  In an accommodating move, Alton’s car likewise lunges ahead with the driver appearing to be oblivious to anyone else on the road!  Alton’s peripheral vision allows him to observe a considerable increase in cockpit activity to his left as the two vehicles race side by side down the access road at an accelerated speed.  The excited elderly driver makes a quick glance to the right to check for a clearing (and finding none) makes a snappy check of the rear view mirror - then without options, barrels up the ramp and onto the toll road.  Suddenly, it’s over!  The commitment had been made.

As Alton’s vehicle disappears from view down the extended access road, with the driver looking straight ahead and as innocent as the diabolical “Oil Can Harry” of silent movie days, the two objects of his humor had rapidly ascended the slight elevation of the ramp - off on a grand, pay-for-use, Sunday morning adventure!

Alton told me with a sly grin, “I doubt that either of those two sweet old ladies had ever dared venture onto the toll road, so I thought I would give them a thrill.”

Long after everyone in the appraisal department was familiar with the main traffic arteries in the Dallas Metropolitan Area, Alton still enjoyed standing before the giant “Mapsco” wall map to “walk us through” the travel routes that we would individually be using during the next day’s appraisal assignments.  It was reminiscent of World War II pre-flight briefings for combat pilots, and was almost a daily ritual.

A.W. didn’t carry a grudge . . . much longer than 24 hours, but he would often make an exception if he had not extracted revenge within that period.  If he wanted to get even with you for some reason, it was usually manifest in the next day’s appraisal assignments that were handed out late in the afternoon of the day prior to their execution.  When you reviewed the “tickets” assigned to you, and you observed the geographic locations, and mentally reviewed your travel route, no one had to tell you when Alton had “put it on you.”  They could be unnecessarily spread “all over” the metropolitan area rather than geographically “grouped” for each individual appraiser so as to minimize travel time.

As time passed, the savings and loan changed its name for statewide marketing reasons, and we moved to beautiful new corporate headquarters just south of Northwest Highway on Preston Road.

One day, Bobby Coulter, a fellow appraiser and great friend, and I were returning from lunch, traveling west on Northwest Highway, about two blocks East of Preston.

Bobby said, “Isn’t that Alton up there?”

Sure enough, several car lengths ahead, there was Alton’s blue and white Plymouth, in the right-hand lane.  Knowing of the Great Sunday Toll Road Episode, Bobby said, “Let’s see if we can run Alton through the Preston Road intersection.”

Assuming that Alton was also returning to the office, Bobby quickly began to work through the heavy lunch hour traffic and managed to get into the inside lane just to the left rear of Alton’s car.  If Alton was returning to the office, he needed to make a left turn at the intersection.

Shortly thereafter, the left turn signal on the Plymouth began to blink.

Bobby speeded up slightly so that the front of his vehicle was just close enough to prohibit a lane change by our beloved boss.  Car number one speeds up.  To the left, car number two speeds up.  History is repeating itself. As in at least one past similar set of circumstances, several years before, his sudden increase of speed is met with an equal burst of power by the car at his left rear.  Alton is observed checking his mirrors.

Preston Road - next turn opportunity.

One can notice the mounting frustration in the two-tone Chrysler product.  The movement of the narrow brim hat, up and down, then tilting slightly downward toward the left, gave indication of a strong desire to get clear visibility from at least one of the rear view mirrors.  To no avail!  That darn car in the left lane is positioned where it’s in a blind spot! Can’t change lanes now.  Car in that lane is too close.  Navigational aids are again frantically checked and then . . .Zoom!  Alton shot through the Preston intersection like a fighter pilot on a strafing mission.

At last, the cruel trick pulled on two nameless old ladies had been avenged!  The exhilaration accompanying this success felt great.  What had been a mediocre day suddenly took a dramatic turn for the better.  There is some justice in this world!  And we, by providence, had been there at the precise time and place to administer it.  We were both grinning like a kid with a new bicycle. 

By the time Alton came into the office we had mastered the somber look of a couple of on-duty undertakers.  Inside, our bodies we were still grinning from ear to ear, and about to burst!

B-o-y, did we get some lousy appraisal routes for a few days thereafter.  (Alton finally got a clear fix on “that car” as we made the left turn on to Preston.)  But, for those “Sweet Old Ladies” and the lasting mental image of Alton’s frantic search in the rear view mirrors, IT WAS WORTH EVERY BIT OF IT!

After Alton retired, I would see him occasionally around town.  I could tell in talking with him that something was wrong.  He would sometimes repeat himself during the same conversation and I noticed that he had difficulty remembering names.

I saw Alton when his mother died, and volunteered to help in any way that I could.  Alton’s old self came to the surface and he replied, “You can mow my lawn.”

There is little any of us can do to assist in the time of loss, and I thought, “While I know that this is some of his wit, maybe this would indeed be of some assistance.”  So late that afternoon, while the Ward’s were away from home, I loaded up my mower, and gas can and went over and mowed Alton’s yard.  I managed to complete the job before the family returned.

Sometime later, I received a call and the voice I recognized as Alton’s said, “Did you mow my lawn?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I couldn’t figure out who would have done that.  Didn’t you know I was just kidding?”

“Yes, I thought you were kidding, but I asked what I could do to assist and I thought mowing might be of help.”

I received what I think was a rather embarrassed, “Thank you.”

Got ya, Alton!  You’re not the only one with a sense of humor.

Over the period of the next few years, Alton’s condition worsened as Alzheimer’s methodically eroded his memory and robbed him of that impish personality that all who really knew him delighted in.  Ultimately the disease claimed his physical body, but from what I understand about salvation, the part of him that is eternal, immediately appeared at the Pearly Gates.

Our friendship is only temporarily interrupted.

Heaven beware!