JUDGE GARDNER -- The Verdict
When I was young, I was a skinny, scrawny kid. Now that I am an adult,
a very old adult, I am a skinny, scrawny ancient. So much for the passage
of time.
Because I was so undersized, skinny and scrawny, I had great
admiration, almost awe, for large men.
Hal Pangle was my first idol. Hal was about the size of a small truck.
We both worked at the Rendezvous Ballroom taking tickets. In those days
it was a nickel a dance, and after each number it was our ticket takers’
job to clear the floor by taking long ropes and herding the dancers off
the floor so they could put in another ticket for the new dance. Some
people took offense at being herded off the floor like a bunch of cattle,
and they would take it out on the boy with the rope -- skinny, scrawny
me. About the time some oversized slob was going to remove my head from
my shoulders, I would scream, “Pangle!” and Hal would trot over. The
irate patron would take one look at Hal and become very, very docile.
And then there were the two constables, “Tiny” Vaughn and Big Bill
Ponting, each well over 6 1/2 feet, and when Bill Ponting put on his
cowboy boots and cowboy hat, he looked about 8 feet tall. Both Tiny and
Bill were from Costa Mesa, and after seeing them, I became convinced at a
very early age that Costa Mesa was a land of giants. Their size allowed
them to simply show up and calm down potential trouble. No force needed.
Later in life, when Don Vaughn, Tiny’s son, and I became close
friends, I saw once again how being a man of size had certain advantages.
A group of us were going to Mexico. On the first night out, the group
leader got drunk and lost all of our tickets. Not to worry. We would walk
into a hotel without any tickets, reservations or whatever one is
supposed to have. If the desk clerk started to demur, Don would simply
reach over his head, grab a bunch of keys and distribute them. Very
simple if you are 6-foot-8 and an ex-pro football player.
All I can say is that it must be a lot more fun being big and strong
than being small, scrawny and weak. I’ll never know.
* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge. His
column runs Tuesdays.
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