So this is an old story the kids have heard before in various forms but I think it bears being written down for all of perpetuity. In addition to the story itself, what makes it classic is there's just a shade of uncertainty on all the details - not dissimilar to most family stories from 50+ years ago. But then that's the beauty of the folklore - most of it is based on fact and the reader can choose to believe what they want.
I'll explain it the best I can and in the manner it was told to me. Since both my parents are no longer alive, there's no way to collaborate this version but then that's part of the fun, isn't it?
Here goes.....
I was born in the middle of the winter in a little town in southeastern South Dakota. My parents had recently moved to Yankton from Sioux City Iowa a year earlier to open the local bowling alley. My Dad had always been in the bowling business in Sioux City since moving back there after his Navy days. He had gone to mechanic school and took care of the automatic pinsetters and various equipment at the local lanes in Sioux City.
When they first moved to Yankton, a small 8-lane bowling alley was built and opened in the downtown area. At that time there were no automatic pinsetters. You had "pin chasers" - these were people that perched on a little plank above the pins and after a ball was thrown, they would hop down, clear out any downed pins and put the ball back on the rails that returned it to the other end of the lane for the next shot. Not an easy job as these pin chasers were apt to catch a flying pin off their arm or leg - lots of bumps and bruises for likely not a lot of money.
Anyway, during that winter in early 1958, my Mom was pregnant with me and they were trying to make a go of it in a little rental house literally 1/2 block from the rail road tracks that cut through town with my 2 older brothers. My grandparents (from my Mom's side) also lived in town in a local trailer court so it was nice having additional family in town to help out.
Keep in mind that Ed King was quite a bowler. His bowling was well known throughout the state of Iowa for many years as he owned numerous state titles and championships. After his death 10 years ago, I kept his 1958 Iowa State Championship trophy as a cherished remembrance to his bowling days. He bowled in local leagues right up to just a few years before he died and it truly was his passion in life.
Unlike today, life was much different in 1958. People didn't have health insurance and most workers didn't make much money. Doctors made house calls if necessary and paying for health care was often a conversation between you and the Doctor to negotiate a fair price. If you could afford it, great. If you couldn't, well, something likely could be worked out.
Having babies in 1958 was also a bit different than nowadays as well. The Dads were typically sequestered into some type of waiting room while the labor and delivery happened. Moms and babies would stay put in the hospital for a few days at a minimum and the thought of getting the Mom up and out of bed moving around after childbirth just wasn't part of the plan. The "Family Experience" of today's childbirths looks much different than it did 55 years ago.
Yankton had a hospital in those days (still does). Sacred Heart Hospital stands in basically the same spot it always has and in addition to my birth, saw the birth of my daughter many years later as well.
Saturday, February 1st, 1958 was a cold winter day with a forecast for some bad weather to move in later on. While I'm not exactly sure when my Mom's labor started, I do know I was born sometime that Saturday morning or early afternoon on the 1st. Like all Dads, my Dad waited in the waiting room while my Grandparents watched my brothers. And hopefully like all Dads, his chest swelled a little when he found out he was the father of a brand new, healthy son. Mom and Son were both doing fine.
Whether this was always planned or simply a spur of the moment decision, my Dad and a couple of his bowling buddies decided that a road trip to Onawa Iowa was in order as there was a bowling tournament there that weekend and when you ran a bowling alley and had the opportunity, you went to nearby bowling tournaments during the weekends whenever possible.
In today's world, the child services people would've been called and my Dad would have been shamed as some sort of dead-beat but that's just how it was back then. Dad had a chance to go bowl and if I know his thinking, he probably thought he had a chance to make some money. You also need to understand that these tournaments paid cash and in some cases there was enough money involved to help pay the grocery bill for that week.
So early that afternoon, knowing that his wife and new son were safe and sound at the local hospital and that his other 2 boys were being well taken care of by the Grandparents, off he went to Onawa to bowl later that evening.
Using today's Interstate, Onawa is about an hour and a half from Yankton. Since the Interstate wasn't yet finished in 1958, you had to take State and County highways to get from here to there - probably a 2 to 2 1/2 hour drive.
As mentioned earlier, the forecast wasn't particularly good but off they went anyway. Of course on the trip down, it began to snow and the road conditions deteriorated but the group was already on their way - why stop now?
You can probably guess the remainder of the story - Dad of course, won the tournament and collected the winner's share of the prize money. I wish I knew more of the details - I wish I knew who all went, what was his score, and how much he won. But those details have been lost through the years.
Late that night, the group finally made it back to Yankton. Terrible weather caused their 2 1/2 hour drive to take much, much longer but they did make it back safely. And that next day, my Dad went to the hospital to visit Mom and me and of course not a word was said of the previous night because my Dad knew what Mom's reaction would be.
A couple of days later, we were released from the hospital and sent home. And wouldn't you know it, Dad paid cash for the entire bill. Keep in mind this was from someone that made hardly any money and couldn't keep 2 quarters in his pocket for more than 10 minutes if bowling was involved. But the bill was paid and no questions were asked.
It wasn't until years later that the true story finally came out and if I remember correctly, it took another few year until my Mom finally forgave Dad for his antic.
So that's the story - I deep down have this unbridled delight that my birth was paid for with bowling winnings. Partly because few others can tell a similar story but mostly because I know the pride my Dad must've felt when he paid that bill knowing that he whipped a bunch of other bowlers for the privilege to pay off the birth of his son.
Maybe for all our sake, they just don't make them like Ed King anymore - both good and bad. But I still miss him and this story can't help but make me smile. Go get 'em, Dad!
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