Tommy and I went to school forever, kindergarten thru high school. Though he passed away several years ago now, I still remember him well. He is missed.
Like Lee, Tom and I go back as far as kindergarten; Beach School, old building. Then and for the next few years, he was Tommy, class character; attending Sat. morning acrobatics; member of Peter Pan Players; and with his father, Harry, chauffeuring us to Friday night football games before anyone could drive. I'm sure everyone has their favorite Tom Harmon story; for myself there are too many to tell, but especially at a time like this they are fun to remember, for he won't be forgotten.
Beach School, probably fourth grade. Each classroom had a telephone mounted on the wall, sort of a miniature version of the old crank phone you see in old movies. Tom Harmon (and I think Don Kuehn) were wearing their blue Cub Scout pants and shirts with the yellow neckerchief. Class lined up at the door to go outside for recess. Harmon, Kuehn, and I think Lee Carrier were dawdling around, goofing off, poking each other. Of course I was just observing. Don grabbed Tom Harmon's yellow neckerchief and looped it over the mouthpiece of the wall-mounted phone. Not tight enough to choke Harmon to death, but high enough he was standing on tip-toes and unable to reach up to free himself. Teacher became aware several of us were missing, had not showed up outside, and came back in, asking, "All right you boys, quit fooling around and get outside... and where is Tom Harmon?" Kuehn says, "I think he's hanging around somewhere in the classroom," and scampered down the hallway. Carrier about choked himself laughing.
One day after school, probably third or fourth grade, Tom Harmon came over to my house to play. We were kneeling on the bench of the picnic table, leaned over, elbows on the table top, probably reading the comics in the Cleveland Press. My mom came outside with some sort of snack, lemonade or milk, cookies or potato chips, whatever. As she set them down on the picnic table, she said, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you two are brothers -- twins, actually."
Tom was one-of-a-kind. Always with a smile on his face and a happy-go-lucky attitude. I remember a pick up game of football on a field at the Junior High (now the middle school). I was covering him (not very well) when we both went up for a pass. I came down on top of him and busted up his shoulder...but he held on for the completion.
We met up again in '63 at the Ivy League of the Midwest, Parsons College. I recall how he, Kim Krejci and myself were "elected" to represent the college at a Young Republicans convention being held in Lincoln, Nebraska. Sparing no expenses, the college allowed us to hitchhike from Fairfield to Lincoln where we, rather miraculously, arrived just prior to the opening ceremony. Sorry but that's about all I remember of that weekend.
I always thought I'd run into him from time to time to share memories and share a pitcher or two so it was quite a shock to learn how false that assumption was.
Lee Carrier (1961)
Tommy and I went to school forever, kindergarten thru high school. Though he passed away several years ago now, I still remember him well. He is missed.
Don Kuehn (1961)
Like Lee, Tom and I go back as far as kindergarten; Beach School, old building. Then and for the next few years, he was Tommy, class character; attending Sat. morning acrobatics; member of Peter Pan Players; and with his father, Harry, chauffeuring us to Friday night football games before anyone could drive. I'm sure everyone has their favorite Tom Harmon story; for myself there are too many to tell, but especially at a time like this they are fun to remember, for he won't be forgotten.Terry Raney (1961)
Tommy played the drums. For at least three years we had a group in the Kiwanis talent show. We never won. No talent. WE had a good time.Terry Obrock (1961)
Remembering Tom Harmon...
Beach School, probably fourth grade. Each classroom had a telephone mounted on the wall, sort of a miniature version of the old crank phone you see in old movies. Tom Harmon (and I think Don Kuehn) were wearing their blue Cub Scout pants and shirts with the yellow neckerchief. Class lined up at the door to go outside for recess. Harmon, Kuehn, and I think Lee Carrier were dawdling around, goofing off, poking each other. Of course I was just observing. Don grabbed Tom Harmon's yellow neckerchief and looped it over the mouthpiece of the wall-mounted phone. Not tight enough to choke Harmon to death, but high enough he was standing on tip-toes and unable to reach up to free himself. Teacher became aware several of us were missing, had not showed up outside, and came back in, asking, "All right you boys, quit fooling around and get outside... and where is Tom Harmon?" Kuehn says, "I think he's hanging around somewhere in the classroom," and scampered down the hallway. Carrier about choked himself laughing.
One day after school, probably third or fourth grade, Tom Harmon came over to my house to play. We were kneeling on the bench of the picnic table, leaned over, elbows on the table top, probably reading the comics in the Cleveland Press. My mom came outside with some sort of snack, lemonade or milk, cookies or potato chips, whatever. As she set them down on the picnic table, she said, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you two are brothers -- twins, actually."
Craig Miller (1961)
Tom was one-of-a-kind. Always with a smile on his face and a happy-go-lucky attitude. I remember a pick up game of football on a field at the Junior High (now the middle school). I was covering him (not very well) when we both went up for a pass. I came down on top of him and busted up his shoulder...but he held on for the completion.
We met up again in '63 at the Ivy League of the Midwest, Parsons College. I recall how he, Kim Krejci and myself were "elected" to represent the college at a Young Republicans convention being held in Lincoln, Nebraska. Sparing no expenses, the college allowed us to hitchhike from Fairfield to Lincoln where we, rather miraculously, arrived just prior to the opening ceremony. Sorry but that's about all I remember of that weekend.
I always thought I'd run into him from time to time to share memories and share a pitcher or two so it was quite a shock to learn how false that assumption was.
Miss you, Tom.
Craig