The journey will picks up after I move from St. Louis but there are a few key players in the story that must be introduced before we play ” Get out of St Lou”.

Bob Seger was a legendary musician who flooded the charts with hits, one after another, but it was Get out of Denver that caught the attention of an 11 year old that was just beginning to appreciate music. That song is the only one in which the Motor City rocker sounds just like Chuck Berry.

At the end of the last chapter, I introduced the name Gerry Boehm. Boehm was the first person to be a positive influence on me. Boehm taught me how to market at the high school level. Like myself today, he always gave credit where credit was due.

One of the first things we did together came from Louisiana Tech. They were creating what was called a theme poster, and we loved it. We did this together for years and expanded on it to include a book on the season, so if you count those books the number goes up considerably.

One year, we were blazing a trail, which included the entire team wearing outfits that were from the Old West. Another season, we were all wearing Lab Coats in a room full of beakers and bunsen burners.

My senior season came around, and we had a choice to make in regard to my role with the team. I could put on a uniform and sit on the end of the bench or work the program in other ways. Advance scout, writing, and a little bit of this, and that seemed like the better answer.

Dale Renken was our best player, and he eventually went on to play for Rich Grawer at St Louis University. Yes, the same Grawer who taught Boehm the game of basketball. We had an undefeated regular season that ended in heartbreaking fashion in the tournament.

The 6’7 “Renken had a cousin who was a golf professional at St. Peters Golf Course and, in his spare time, ran a disc jockey business. Both of his jobs contributed to my skill set as I became an employee of the city who worked at the course, and that led to the first time someone handed me a microphone, then told me to be entertaining.

The swing in venues was mind-boggling, to say the least. From wedding receptions to pool parties to 50-year school reunions. The day would come when Bob sold me the business, and I renamed it JB’s Rainbow.

The golf part of the story branched off in 50 different directions. I became responsible for all of our leagues and tournaments and researched how to correctly calculate a handicap ( that company was called ” Clubhouse Handicaps. My events were all outside of the box and drew folks in from all across the grewater St Louis area.

I remember a year that I wrote a third place check to a fellow named Tom Wargo. The amount was probably just $100.00, and I really wish that I had kept the check. See, a few years later, that same guy was seen winning the 1993 PGA Senior Open and 1994 Senior British Open !

Bob Renken also had family ties to a very prestigious country club a few miles up the road. Bogey Hills was the name and it was owned by the Walters family. Doc Walters founded the club and eventually handed it down to his son Dennis.

Doc had a Rolls Royce golf cart that made everyone turn their heads. I remember one particular story that changed my outlook for the remainder of my life.

While I had a great deal of leeway at the muni track of St.Peters, I was just in charge of the bag room at Bogey Hills. It was a Monday, and back then, most CCs would raise money by letting outside groups rent out the course for the day. On this Monday, it was a group affiliated with the National Football League !

The place is hoping as folks were pouring in from all around, and each group was promised a celebrity in their foursome. My responsibility was to find the bags of the members and load up their carts for them. Everyone was stoked about the event, but when Dennis approached me as the groups headed out for the shotgun start, I could tell something was wrong.

One of the registered golfers had not arrived at the course, and with the size of the checks written for the charity event, the Boss couldn’t have any group feel that they were cheated.

He looked at me and said the following ( it was 40 years ago, so I’m paraphrasing)…

In just a minute, a golf cart is going to pull up, and you are going to jump in and be their fourth. Do your best not to embarrass me.

I don’t have golf clubs, shoes or even socks. I am wearing my boat shoes ( are they still a thing ?), shorts, and a collared shirt. The look in his eyes told me not to ask questions or raise concerns, I just grabbed the first set of clubs I saw and then jumped into the fast approaching golf cart. I immediately start pestering the driver of the cart about the ” special guest ” in our group was ?

I don’t know if the three players pre-planned their fun while awaiting their fourth to show up, but I know that I fell for it, hook line a sinker.

We tee off just a few minutes late, and the conversation is free-flowing amongst the three grown-ups, and I’m trying to honor my bosses wishes to not emberrass the Club.

I am practically tugging on the shirt sleeve of the man who I’m sharing the golf cart with, asking, “Please, mister, which one of those two guys is the famous one”

We were probably on the fourteenth hole when I heard one of the other guys say the name Roger out loud. I immediately drop my head because I just realized that for the past three hours, I have been asking Roger Wehrli when I was going to meet someone famous.

If you are under 60, that name won’t mean anything, but the more recent comparison would be to say that Roger was to the position of defensive back is the same as say, Peyton Manning was to QB.

His career covered 14 seasons, seven which ended in Pro Bowls, and if you want to learn more about him, drive up to Canton and check things out for yourself. The Hall of Fame was the last stop for the player, which was the face of the Cardinals franchise.

The humility and grace that had been on display thar day was only topped by what happened roughly two or three weeks later. Lin and I were walking through one of the many malls in the area when I noticed Roger at an autograph table, maybe 50 or so, feet away. I start chuckling to myself.

Lin asked me what was so funny, and I responded, “Remember that story about Roger Wehrli? That’s him over there, which led to her asking me about going over, and that wasn’t going to happen.

Before I knew what happened, I heard him somewhat shout, get over hear Jerry Carter. From 50 feet, Roger set the bar high for just how a superstar should treat other people, even when it’s just the bag boy.

Jim Thomas of the St Louis Post Dispatch, Carla Milburn of the St. Charles Journal and my first attempt at getting people to smile, Sports and More was both hatched and folded before I left town. My parents used the area as a home base for decades, so STL was a part of the journey a number of times.

Jim Thomas went on to have a great career, and he was the person who provided me with my very first stringer paycheck ($30.00). I was provided three opportunities to cover a local high school game for one of the largest daily newspapers in the country, and the conversations that followed altered my journey forever.

We will revisit Mr Thomas more than once down the road, but how about that, Mr Bob Renken. He pushed me forward in three separate ways and for no other reason than he could.

The journey reached the middle of the 1980s and as the song says….

CWO4, Charles Taylor Carter, was born on US-58 in Mecklenburg County back in 1933, and our family roots remained there for generations. In fact, there are still family members there today, but they are not part of this story.

The term is called ” Navy Brat,” and it was something that I embraced. Yes, I dealt with double digits in regards to the number of schools that I did or did not attend, but I credit my personality to the dramatic change of scenery each new deployment brought.

I was born in Lemoore, California, but we left there when I was three. We moved 3,000 miles to Tidewater, Virginia. From there, it was up to New England ( Rhode Island ) before dropping to the deep south, and I mean deep south in Albany, Georgia.

The sixth grade was the year that was the most bonkers of the twelve. It started with a move across town, from a farm 🚜 to a city home. The next move came when the Naval Base was closed down and Dad waited to hear what was next.

Key West, Florida ( my first knowledge of Jimmy Buffett ), but it was always going to be a temporary move. Dad went ahead and sent me to my grandparents’ house in Finchley, just a bit from Buggs Island Lake. The amusement ride continues from there when we are relocated back to Tidewater. Five locations in one year.

We never had any money, so getting an allowance was not going to happen. But my love for sports was starting to develop, so I went into business for myself as a twelve year old. It started with Lawn Care, and when I turned 13, I switched over to the newspaper business by delivering the Virginia Pilot every morning.

Six months later, I had six routes and managed them by hiring my friends. Aubrey Spangler was the District Manager who let me build a teenage empire.

I traced my roots back to my home state and adopted the Oakland Athletics as my baseball team. Al Davis and the Oakland Raiders in football so naturally I understood the business of sports marketing at an early age.

Locally, it was Old Dominion University and Virginia Wesleyan University, giving me a back stage pass to both Ronnie Valentine on the Men’s side and a young lady named Nancy Lieberman on the women’s.

The American Basketball Association was still a thing, and we had the Virginia Squires. They didn’t make the four team list when the merger happened, but it introduced me to the voice of one Marty Brenneman. The excitement in his voice was amazing as he could keep you excited even when you were down 38 points.

The Tidewater Tides started the love affair with baseball. I still remember the day that Willie Mays, the Say Hay Kid himself, at the age of 42 came to town. He had just retired from the New York Mets and put the uniform back on for the annual MLB versus Triple A game was played. I miss those days…

Mays launched a bomb 💣 that day and added a base hit. It was a priceless experience. Also, that summer, my parents let me board a fan bus for a day trip to Richmond for an AAA showdown at the old Diamond Ball park. $10.00 back then was the cost for the Day, those were good times.

While down in South Georgia, I started following the Atlanta Braves and this quirky pitcher for the San Diego Padres named Randy Jones. That would come full circle decades later when I started working with his catcher, Joe Goddard at West Virginia Tech University.

The other very notable thing that happened was that an expansion team was awarded to a mythical place called the Emerald City. The Seattle Mariners were born and, to this day, remain my team.

Dad finally retired, just short of 30 years because if he didn’t, he would have another sea duty stint, and he didn’t want to put Mom through that again.

Halfway through my junior year of high school, we moved to the Midwest. When you added that my parents were able to buy their very first home during my seventh grade, it meant two high schools, two junior high schools, and eight other stops along the way.

Before we completely close the door on Tidewater, it’s worth mentioning that we played football against the likes of Kenny Easley, Bruce Smith, Lawrence Taylor, and AL Toon, to name a few. Easley played at Oscar Smith High School and will reappear later in the book.

The long and winding road took us to a place that was called the fastest growing county in the United States, St. Charles.

Dad took a job at McDonnell Douglas, which would later be swallowed up by Boeing. Just like the Jed and all of his kinfolk, we loaded up the truck and headed west. St Louis is called the Gateway to the West and was set to be our next stop.

There were five or six major pieces to the puzzle that happened during the first stay in the Show-Me state. Each one played a major role in the journey, so let’s get to it.

Gerry Boehm had just finished up a great run as the assistant coach at the legendary Desmet High School under Rich Grawer. Grawer ran a college level program at the powerhouse school and Boehm was eager to build his own program by using the same thought process. Grawer would move on later to the college level and just missed a serious run at a Final Four when he was coaching Steve Stipanovich.

Grawer was trying to make the move up at the same time but was passed over. Stip was the definition of a Blue Chip, and others were going to follow him once he picked his college. He ended up going over to Columbia, where he played for Norm Stewart and his Missouri Tigers.

Two decades later, our paths crossed again in Bellingham, Washington, when I was in town for a Western Washington University game and his daughter was on the team. File that under small world.

Boehm was a towering presence, and his level of understanding the game made every minute around him exciting.

During my junior year at Francis Howell, I continued my search for ways to expand my portfolio, and because of my physical limitations, playing golf was the only true option. This led to a multitude of opportunities in that part of the sports world.

It has been a rather wild ride up to this point and I’m still only 17 years old. Up to this point, I have only written one poem and goofed around a bit with a number of possibilities. Let’s see where it takes us next !