Thursday, April 25, 2024
Sam Houston
FROM MY FRONT PORCH
Sam Houston is a syndicated columnist and newspaper executive. He is also an author, actor, playwright and entertainment producer/promoter.
As a high school student, I was very focused on playing basketball. Between practices and games, there was little free time during the season; certainly not time to hold down a part-time job. When the season ended, I was pretty much dead broke and immediately sought out a part-time job where I could earn some spending money.
The PTA of my high school had set up a volunteer staffed employment service where local businesses or individuals could call in with a job listing, and mothers who volunteered would attempt to find a suitable student to apply for the job. My girlfriend’s mother was one of the volunteer staff, so when a job opportunity came in to work as an office boy in a prominent law office, she gave me the information. As soon as school was over that day, I headed to the address and applied.
I was excited for the opportunity because while minimum wage was $1.60 an hour, this job was paying the princely sum of $2.50 an hour. For that huge amount of salary, I did not know if I would have to kill people or drive a getaway car, but the money certainly piqued my interest. The job entailed running errands, delivering legal papers to other lawyers, taking deeds to be recorded, as well as keeping the law library picked up and updated. The office where I would work was on the 22nd floor of a new high-rise. No one was more shocked than myself when I was told I had gotten the job. All my friends were mowing yards, or raking leaves, and there I was working in a swanky law office. It was cool.
On my third day of work, I was summoned to the top partner’s office as he had an errand for me to run. I had not yet met Mr. Susman, but I understood he was very young to be the named partner on the letterhead. Hearing the reverence of others as they mentioned his name made it clear to me, he was the “big boss.”
I was a little nervous when I walked to his office and knocked on the door. He told me to come in, and introduced himself as Lou Susman and then asked my name. When I responded, he asked me, “you related to Don Houston, the teacher? I smiled and proudly replied, “Yes, he is my dad”. I was proud of my dad, and it was pretty neat that Mr. Susman knew his name. Upon hearing my reply, Mr. Susman responded, “Yah, he threw me down a flight of stairs when I was a freshman. I was a smart aleck and he let me know I was out of line. Looking back, I’m sure I deserved it.”
Upon hearing the shocking words Mr. Susman uttered, I did not know how to respond. I felt like I wanted to say I was sorry for my Dad’s actions, but the words would not come out. I was shocked, stunned, and bewildered all at one time. I had a confused look on my face as I retreated, then went about doing the errand I had been assigned. My dad had never laid a hand on me. Would my dad do such a thing as throwing a kid down a flight of stairs?
I could not wait to get home that night. The family was gathered around the dining table and mom was placing the last of the food on the table when I slid into my usual seat. Before any side gibberish could begin, I looked straight at my father and asked him, “Guess who I met today dad?”. My father glanced up from filling his plate with mashed potatoes and fried chicken long enough to utter, “Who?” I nearly shouted out, “Lou Susman, and he said when he was a freshman in school you threw him down a flight of stairs because he was a cocky, smart-mouthed kid.” My Dad did not really respond, he just nodded his head and went back to eating. I waited for a second, trying to be respectful but at the same time dying to get to the bottom of the story. Then I said, “Well is that true, Dad? Did you throw him down a flight of stairs?” This time Dad looked up, almost sheepishly, and stated, “I don’t really recall that.”
What? You don’t recall throwing a student down a flight of stairs? I know the late 50s was a lot different than today, but I would have thought an incident such as throwing a student down the stairs would have stuck out in my Dad’s mind! He simply went back to eating his dinner and then asked one of my sisters how their day had gone at school, seemingly impervious to the shocking question I had asked.
It wasn’t until quite a few years later that I revisited the subject of Mr. Sussman and the stairs with my Dad. I was now much older and in my Dad’s mind I was now able to understand what had happened. He acknowledged that he had in fact given a “brief educational encounter” with the spoiled, cocky, loudmouth kid. He was also quick to add that his actions had a very positive result because Mr. Susman never caused another problem in school. He never defended his actions but said teachers were given much more authority to discipline kids back in the 50s and early 60s than what was accepted currently. In Dad’s mind, he gave the student what he needed, and it worked. End of story.
I am not suggesting my Dad’s action were appropriate, but it is interesting to note Mr. Sussman ended up having quite a prominent legal career, as well as significant political accomplishments including becoming the United States Ambassador to England in 2009. Was Dad responsible for Mr. Susman’s success? I would like to think maybe a little bit. I know Mr. Susman always treated me like a prince and he never failed to ask me how Dad was doing. I could sense that despite the incident, he respected my Dad.
Teachers have a big impact on their students. And sometimes children do not know their parents as well as they thought they did. Maybe both are good things.
Thought for the day: Nothing can surprise you more than people you thought you knew.
Until next time … I will keep ridin’ the storm out.
