Walking home from elementary school one spring afternoon in the late ‘50s I took a shortcut through the woods and heard a commotion in the bushes off the trail. When I looked I saw a man assaulting one of the older girls in town. I dropped my book bag, grabbed a branch off the ground and hit the man on his back, but he struck the back of my legs with his arm and I fell. I shall never forget the horror in the girls eyes, her struggling, fighting and the man’s huge hand over her mouth.

I ran out to the road and a I saw a truck was approaching. I began waving my arms and the truck, one from REA express stopped. I told the driver that a girl was being hurt and he followed me into the woods, where he grabbed the guy, pulled him up off the girl and began punching him. In between blows the driver told me to run to the police station.

The police station was 5 blocks away and it seemed like an eternity to get there. Huffing and puffing I told the officer sitting behind the big counter what had happened and he used the radio to send help. Another officer came from a back room and he took me back to the woods in a police car.

The driver had detained the man face down on the ground and police put the man in handcuffs, and attended to the girl. One cop went back to a police car to request an ambulance and to get blankets and a first aid kit. The police took our names and told us to go. The REA driver picked up my book bag, walked me out to the road and drove me home. His name was Tony and he said, “You done good kid.”

After that day, anytime Tony drove past and saw me he would beep his horn two or three times and yell, “YO!”