The Summer of 1963 was a time of awakening, awareness, and decision for me. I was between my sophomore and junior years in College. In October of 1962, those of us who were entering our late teens went through the Cuban Missile Crisis which brought both the possibility of an all-out war with the Soviet Union and quite, possibly a nuclear war right into our collective faces. Suddenly, the prospect of entering the Service became frighteningly real for twelve days in October. None of us forgot what those days were like. That crisis brought me to an intensified awareness of the Cold War and what implications it could have for my future. Within the framework of my classes, I studied our conflicts with China, the Soviets, and the liberation movements in Latin America with a much greater interest than I could have ever thought. At the same time, the Civil Rights movement was gathering momentum. I had been into the deeper south by then and had experienced segregated facilities, dining establishments, even drinking fountains. I was pretty repelled by these things and even more appalled at the beatings, murders, and even attempts to prevent people of color to get an education. I also became aware of early American intervention in Vietnam as we sent advisers there in the early fight against the domino theory.  One of my History professors, Dr. Dwight Mikkelson, was very astute politically and forecast our involvement in Vietnam.  As a result of these discussions, I talked with military recruiters for the US Navy for the first time right after mid-terms.  This was the first time that I put a military stint into my potential future plans.

After finals, I came home to Poughkeepsie, New York for a brief time before I was to head out to Martha’s Vineyard to begin my summer job at one of the resort hotels on the Island. I was to be a “jack of all trades” rather than being assigned to the dining room wait staff or bell staff. While at home, I was approached by a couple of friends who were going to take one of the freedom buses “south”. I thought a great deal about going but it would have meant giving up my summer job which I could not afford to do at the time. So, reluctantly, I passed and went on to the Vineyard.  It did bother me all summer that I did not make that trip.

Martha’s Vineyard in 1963 was a burgeoning hotbed of intellectual liberalism, decidedly anti-war, pro Civil Rights, and became one of the great melting pots of folk music that embraced all of these themes. A place I frequented in Oak Bluffs was called “The Mooncusser” which was a coffee house where you sat and listened to the early version of some of the greatest folk musicians of that era.  I met a number of very interesting people in The Mooncusser, some of whom I number in my friends today.  The music that I heard there has stayed with me for life.  The folk music genre is one my all-time favorites.   I also read voraciously from the classics, history (The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich), and popular crime novels.  I also read the newspapers and listened to news reports on radio and TV on a daily basis.  I substantially increased my awareness of the world events that could shape our Country’s future.  I studied the expansion of Communism with great interest and some trepidation.

At the same time, I had a summer of fun which included beach parties, dating, and trips to Nantucket (maybe my most favorite Island but don’t tell anyone LOL).  My Mother and Father were at their cottage in the Martha’s Vineyard Camp Meeting Association in Oak Bluffs so I finally was able to have some serious talks about where my future career would be.  By this time, he had (sort of)  gotten over my decision not be a Methodist Minister.  Once that happened then our discussions were much more fruitful.  One of the strengths of the Campground was the eclectic mixture  of people from all walks of life, different experiences, and  varying perspectives on just about everything.  I got a lot of advice on a lot of things from a lot of people.  With all of the input and discussion, I decided that after I finished my degree.  I would then enter as a candidate for Naval OCS and finish a Master’s Degree during my four years as a Naval Officer.  Well, as future events unfolded, ” the best laid schemes of mice and men gang-aft-agley” as said the poet Robert Burns in his poem “To a mouse, or tuning up her nest with a plough” in 1785.  But, that’s a future post.

Another issue for me was to decide whether or not to return to West Virginia Wesleyan College.  I went to Wesleyan because the New York Conference of the United Methodist Church was putting a lot of resources into supporting the Church in Appalachia.  A surprising number of “PK’s aka “Preacher’s Kids”  from New England, New York,and Pennsylvania matriculated at Wesleyan in my class.  The College was vibrant and there was absolutely no place where you could have gone that matched the quintessential all-American college experience at Wesleyan.  The academics were rigorous;  the social life fantastic; all the sports in a tough conference (for colleges that size);  Fraternity life ;and, an incredible group of Professors, many of whom had left large Universities to come to Wesleyan (and other colleges in the general region).  During the Summer of 1963, I made a decision that I would return to Wesleyan to continue to pursue my undergraduate degree.    I wrote to Boston University and turned down their offer of admission as a transfer student.

As the summer evolved and the news reports continued to come from the South, I became angrier about the oppression that the  Civil Rights movement was fighting against.   I think this sparked a life long interest in the history of the Civil War.  1963 was the hundred year anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation.  When you combine that with the Civil Rights movement, it raised my awareness and interest.

On a personal level, the Summer of 1963 was full of momentous events that shaped some critical decisions in my life.  Those decisions had far-ranging implications for me personally.  I had to make most of them myself with input from a lot of incredible people.  Some of my friends said that I was too serious at times.  They were right.  I had a lot to decide.    When I returned to my Fraternity House at Wesleyan, I sat down with Professor Mikkleson and told him all of what you have read above.  He was great.  He said that my decisions were grounded in solid research and sufficient perception of the future.  He told me that he had met few students who put as much effort into making a decision on their future as I.  Personally, I was kind of stressed out about it all but things went very well, at least going forward.

The next installment of this story will be the Summer of 1965.  When I thought I made a lot of decisions in 1963, they pale when compared with the Summer of ’65!