Fact-based Fiction
All the Names Have Been Changed...Obviously
I thought I’d start posting some of my fictional accounts from my years spent with a pencil in one hand and a golf club in the other. The basics of this story actually happened. As in most “based on actual events” stories…this one has some embellishments.
Golf Group Caught In Expected Severe Weather
The regular Tuesday afternoon New and Used Car Dealers and Auto Loan Specialists Golf League (NAUCDAALS) was about to tee off last week on the first tee at Slippery Meadows Golf Course when one of the players, Burnside “Bernie” Bickel - VP for Repossession at Rust Never Sleeps Used Cars, noticed a threatening line of dark blue/black thunderstorm clouds massed across the western horizon.
A zizzer of lightning illuminated the upturned face of the League’s President, Jerry Reinholt (Owner of Big Daddy's Chevy GM Cadillac Toyota and Some Honda Lawn Mowers - former lead singer of a popular rock group in the area in the 60’s and 70’s “Big Daddy & the Other Guys). The flash created a silhouette as he opined to the three foursomes gathered with drivers in hand. “I don’t know guys. It looks like we might be in for a little rain.” The boom of thunder rattled the Pro Shop windows. “They were sayin’ it might on the radio this morning.”
Red Isenpayne looked up from his Apple Watch. “That last strike was two miles away. And, the Weather Service just issued a Severe Thunderstorm Warning.” Another lightning bolt lit up the darkening landscape. “I mean, look! The cars on Hussey Avenue all have their lights on.” Most of the group glanced toward the thoroughfare.
The moment of common sense was broken up by a lone golfer standing just outside the group, Willy Bent, Junior Salesperson at Demott's Chrysler Ford BMW Mercedes Hyundai Suzuki, who was staring intently at the approaching blackness. “I’m not sure, fellas. I think it’s all going that way.” Another flash of lightning illuminated Mr. Bent’s forefinger as he swung in a northward path...away from the first tee. “I’m looking at the upper level winds. I’m seeing some sheer up there.”
A few raindrops sprinkled down from the edges of the howling storm clouds just a few miles away. More faces turned upward to check the skies and follow Mr. Bent’s gaze. “He’s right! The clouds are definitely going that way!” It was Juke Slideways (Sales Manager at Traylor County Wrecking Yard and Used Cars) who pointed out, “Willy used to be a weather guy on WPVC! He knows what he’s talking about.”
“Personality,” Bent corrected. “I was a Weather Personality on WPVC...FM. But, yeah. I think I know what I’m talking about.” (Actually, Bent is now selling cars because surveys showed listeners didn't think he knew what he was talking about.)
“They’re both right, Jerry. I can see the clouds are definitely going that way.” It was Duckie Waddlemore, Service Manager at Big Daddy's) whose finger also traced a path away from the tee box and into the center of the Chockasoutauk Reservation...or, at least, near the Casino up Route 13.
Reinholt raised his voice over the rumbles of thunder. “Okay. Let’s have a vote. Who thinks the storm’s going that way and wants to play today? Raise your hand.”
Ten about-to-be golfers raised their hands. Only one kept his hand at his side. It was Turk Neeland (Service Manager at Demott's) who leaned forward and let everyone know: “I’d raise my hand, too. But, I’m afraid I might get hit by lightning.” Nervous chuckles were drowned out by a long rumble that continued much longer than seemed normal.
“Okay, then. Guys, let’s do it! Team number one, tee it up!” Reinholt glanced at the dark skies and seemed to duck slightly as fingers of lightning raced from cloud to cloud.
“Loser buys the beer!” It was Dick Curdlesbeak (President of Traylor County Bank & Trust) whose bank finances virtually all the cars sold and serviced by the group.
The first hole played quickly. All three foursomes were able to record scores and get to the second tee. Slippery Meadows Head Golf Professional Ralph Wacksmeier said he kept an eye out on the group, “Me and Hake (Assistant Pro Hake Weed) watched real close, so we’d know exactly the right time to dial 9-1-1. But, then they all cleared the first hole - and we couldn’t see ‘em after that. So, we went back to watchin’ the weather radar on TV and makin’ sure we had everything tied down.” This reporter can confirm this account. I was inside with the Pros, locating a closet or bathroom that might afford shelter if the rest of the building was blown away.
What follows is a collection of eye witness reports from the second hole as the Severe Thunderstorm rolled in with straight-line winds reported at 70 miles an hour.
Tewk Headley (Salesman at Big Daddy’s and Quarterback at Eugenia Creamwelll High in 1978 when he threw “the pass” that - if it would have only been 5 yards longer - might have been completed and would have gotten the team into the State Semi-Final) was in the third, and last, foursome. He was still wringing water out of his Nike cap as he described the scene.
“As we walked up on the tee of the second hole. it was so dark, I almost needed a flashlight to see to tee up the ball. There was this strong, real cold, blast of air that knocked my hat off. But, I went ahead and hit the ball; and, the wind blew it way up the fairway! Pretty cool. Then, as we walked up closer to our drives - mine was nearly in the fairway - I saw the guys ahead of us take off running and hollerin’ toward the old TV tower. (WPPT-TV’s original TV tower from the 1950’s is located next to Slippery Meadows Golf Course on land that was supposed to be turned into a public park in the 1980s. There is a small service shed at the base of the tower, which local residents often look to for exciting lightning shows during thunderstorms.) That’s when it got wild. Wind, hail, lightning, thunder and buckets of rain. We took off runnin’ for the TV tower, too. But, I don’t want to make out like it was a big deal. Nobody got electrocuted.”
Dick Curdlesbeak was one of those in the fairway, who Headley saw sprinting for the shelter of the old TV tower’s engineering shed. “I looked over my shoulder as I was walking to my third shot on number 2 because Willy let out kind of a screech. He was pointing at the sky and running toward the TV tower. I don’t know how to describe the color of the clouds. Mighta’ been blue-black. Mighta’ been a really dark green. They were mean lookin’. So, I took off after Willy - and so did the rest of the guys. We mighta’ hollered a little, too. It was so dark, I was using the flashes of lightning to help me navigate to the shed.”
On the green, at the time, Jerry Reinholt was putting for a birdie. “I was using a reverse grip for the first time, so it took a little longer to get comfortable over the ball. And, just as I was starting the putter back, Red Isenpayne hollered or wailed or, it was more like a howl, I guess. Basically, I twitched and missed the ball. So, I stood up to give Red the finger. And, that’s when I saw that Red wasn’t there. He was about a hundred yards across the fairway. Runnin’ like a deer toward the TV tower. At about the same time, a lightning bolt took out a tree next to the green. That’s when I grabbed my clubs and ran for it, too.”
(For the record: The tree was the semi-famous landmark known as “Settlers Oak” where in 1633, lawyers for the early Traylor County pioneers wrote up a confusing legal document and convinced Chockasoutauk tribal leaders to sign. The agreement allowed settlers to annex the fertile lands along the Plunker River and pushed the Chockasoutauk into what was then known as “The Badlands.” That area is now known as a prime site for potential real estate development.)
When this reporter pointed out to Mr. Reinholt that he was basically carrying a bag filled with lightning rods, he nodded. “Yeah, but they’re only a year old.”
As things were going downhill at Slippery Meadows, Weather Service Meteorologist, Don Deekel, reported the radar at Traylor County Airport was showing “maybe the biggest, nastiest thunderstorm I’ve ever seen on radar. I say ‘maybe’ because I was looking at the screen from under a nearby table...where me and my coworkers took shelter.”
The storm engulfed Slippery Meadows Golf Course with winds Deekel estimated at “at least 70 miles an hour. But, I was under the table, so I couldn’t see the anemometer.”
As the rising wind speeds were spinning the airport anemometer, the 12 golfers were arriving at the shed at the base of the abandoned TV tower. “We was huddled under the overhang,” said Dennis “Duckie” Waddlemore. “It was really crowded because everybody had their clubs up under there, too. I think we mighta’ tried to just ride it out like that. But, then, a bolt o’ lightnin’ hit the tower and kinda’ set the ground on fire for a second, before the rain put it out again.” Waddlemore took a deep breath, replaying the moment in his mind. “That’s when I took out my 9 iron and broke the damn door down.”
Juke Slideways said “Nobody wanted to look terrified. So, after Duckie beat down that door, the rest of us kinda’ flowed around him and packed ourselves inside.” Mr. Slideways thought back on those moments of electric terror. “I felt kinda’ bad leaving Duckie outside. But, he was looking for the head of his 9 iron. And we was lookin’ for cover.”
About the same time over at the Airport, Deekel said the weather radar showed a solid line of “orange, red and some kind of purple they never taught us about in weather school.” The meteorologist said, he tried to sound the Traylor County Alarm System (TCAS), “but, the wind or lightning or both blew out the power to ‘em. And, I think some of the poles the sirens were on were no longer upright.”
Deekel was mostly correct. Although, after the storm had passed, local Architect, Derbish Mersh (Creator of Mersh Mesh, a persimmon-based wood product that was used in the construction of the Persimmon Arch in downtown Persimmon Pines - one of the five wonders of the Plunker River Valley) reported that one of the County’s emergency sirens had blown off a pole and fallen through “a one-of-a-kind brass-framed octagonal skylight and into my sunken living room...which is now sunken even more.” Mersh said, the siren was “blasting loudly” for several hours until he was able to find a shotgun and “shut it off for good.” The President of ArkETex (Founded by the late Wells Alby - the designer of the Alby Dam) said he wanted to report the incident “so local officials would know the sirens were working...sorta’.”
Of course, none of this mattered at the moment to the eleven and a half golfers who found shelter in the leaking engineering shed at the base of the abandoned TV tower just off the second fairway at Slippery Meadows. “The rain was coming down sideways,” said Reinholt. “That meant with Duckie wedged in the doorway, we was all getting soaked. So, I pushed him out and managed to close the door and squeeze in with the rest.”
Outside, under the narrow overhang of the metal roof, Mr. Waddlemore later told rescuers he had only one option. “I reached inside my golf bag to grab my phone. But, everything was so dang wet, I couldn’t dial the damn thing. So, I did the only thing that made sense at the time. I took off running through the lightning bolts back to the Pro Shop.”
Meanwhile, inside, the eleven remaining golfers couldn’t get a signal for their phones because the metal roof seemed to be blocking everything. “5G, my ass,” said Red Isenpayne. “It was so hot in there, sweat was runnin’ in my eyes. But, I’m pretty sure, where the 5G was supposed to be alls I was seeing an ‘E.’”
Reinholt tried to maintain some discipline in the cramped quarters amidst the howling wind and crashing thunder. “But,” he said, “it was tough to do because a couple was cryin’ like babies. I don’t name names. But, Headley and Burnside are no longer in the NAUCDAALS league.”
In the Slippery Meadows Pro Shop, Assistant Pro Hake Weed was trying to keep merchandise dry because of a long-ignored front door leak. “I was using anything I could find to sop up the water that was coming through the door like a fire hose. I probably shouldn’t have used the new shirts we just got in. But, they DID soak up the mess pretty well.” Weed said he knew there were golfers on the course. But, he was “too busy keeping my feet dry to think about ‘em until Duckie came through the door and like to knock me over.”
By all accounts, Waddlemore’s appearance shocked everyone. Head Pro Ralph Wacksmeier jumped from behind the counter where he had been watching his assistant mop water. “I had to act fast,” said the Pro. “First off, he was lettin’ more water in. Second, it didn’t look to me like he was wearing a shirt with a collar.” The Head Pro tried to block Duckie from entering. “But, he was slippery - probably because he was so wet - and he slid past me and right up next to the rack of new putters we still have left from 5 years ago.”
After a brief argument about whether he was wearing a shirt with a collar, Waddlemore said he told the Pros to call 911. The request confused Weed, who said,“I don’t think calling them is necessary. I almost got this dried up.” Waddlemore said he explained about the 11 men trapped in the shed under the abandoned TV tower just off the second fairway. Wacksmeier says he picked up his cellphone and started to dial. “But, I reminded Duckie, “That’s not on golf course property. So, we ain’t liable, here. Just so everybody was clear.”
Traylor County Ambulance Service, EMT Murray Glascock (Son of Jubal Glascock, City Councilman Second Ward, owner of Glascock’s on the Knob) says he was the only one left to respond to any emergencies “because, there were ACTUAL emergencies that came in and they left me in the garage because I’m still not very good at CPR. But, I jumpered up our last ambulance, hit the siren and headed over - because...I was hoping they might not need to be resuscitated.”
With downed power lines and trees of all sizes blocking local roads as the storm wound down, it took Glascock over an hour to get to the stranded golfers. “But, we were able to get all 9 men and their clubs in the back of the ambulance - so I could take them to the parking lot and they could go home. It feels good to be a first responder…even if I wasn’t exactly first.”
Reinholt explained why only 9 men needed rescue. “As things were winding down, I told the two crybabies to get their clubs and walk back. As far as I know they got there.” (They did arrive in the golf course parking lot in one piece, although Bernie Burnside was missing a shoe he lost in the quagmire as he crossed Plunkwater Creek with Tewk Headley.)
This reporter walked out of the Pro Shop just as the last of the rescued golfers climbed out of the back of the County Ambulance. Greeting them was Waddlemore, who was overjoyed to see his playing partners all in good health.
When I asked if he thought it was safe to continue playing with the group, Duckie didn’t hesitate: “Oh, absolutely! With those two guys getting kicked out of the league, that means there’ll be plenty of room in the old TV Tower Shed...for next time!”