I'd been back from Korea for nearly two years, and had not settled into a permanent job of any kind. Then one day I spotted an ad for a "Manager Trainee" placed by Cornet Stores, a West Coast chain of what used to be called "5-10-25 Cent Stores" or "Dime-Stores" (in other words, a small-town version of Woolworth).

They sent me to their store in Tulare, California to be its Assistant Manager, while learning how to become a full-fledged manager.

Tulare is a small agricultural town in the middle of the San Joaquin Valley, and getting there was no easy task.

The 1939 Chevrolet I had bought for $125 had a top speed of about 50 MPH on level ground, and a lot less going uphill. Going over the Grapevine, I had to practically drive on the shoulder to keep out of the way of other traffic.

I drove all night and arrived in Tulare about the time the stores downtown were beginning to open. I went in and introduced myself to the store's manager, who said I should take the day to find a place to live and report for work the following morning.

Well, I found an ad in the local paper for a room rental in a private home, and paid the lady of the house for a week's rent. Although she said I had kitchen privileges, I felt a little uncomfortable about cooking in the home of people I didn't really know, so had most of my meals at a small cafe around the corner from the Cornet store.

His Sister Seemed Very Affectionate

The waitresses at the restaurant were friendly and the cafe became sort of my "social hangout" since I didn't know anybody in town except my manager and a woman whom he introduced as his sister. It didn't take too long to figure out that his "sister" was actually his live-in girl friend.

This was back in the days when unmarried couples living together was generally frowned upon—so Gary's calling Sally his sister helped avoid too many raised eyebrows.

Well, the job was interesting, and since there wasn't much else for me to do, I worked hard at learning the business, and even came back nights to put in time. I was on a weekly salary, so the overtime simply meant I was learning the ropes a little faster and, hopefully, would become a full-fledged manager sooner.

Gary and Sally were very nice, and if they went out to dinner or to a movie, they would invite me to come, since they knew I had no actual social life. And going to a movie usually meant driving to Visalia, since there was only one theater in Tulare, and it showed mostly older B movies.

Waiting for Tulare's Only Movie Theater to Open

One of the things I remember about Tulare is my car finally dying altogether—and my leaving it on the edge of a country road while I walked back to town, where I bought a 1949 Studebaker that was in only slightly better shape than the Chevy. But it was all I could afford.

Another thing I remember about Tulare was having breakfast one morning at the cafe, when a fellow in a suit came in and took a seat at the counter. As usual, the juke box was playing loud country music, and it was obvious the stranger in the suit was not a country fan.

He looked as if he was really suffering as Hank Williams' Lovesick Blues was followed by Earnest Tubb's I'm Walkin' the Floor Over You and Lefty Frizzell's Always Late.

But after Hank Snow wailed through one chorus of I Don't Hurt Anymore...

"...I've forgotten somehow That I cared so before. And it's wonderful now — I don't hurt anymore..."

Well, there was one more thing about Tulare that needs to be mentioned. The town had another dime-store called "Rasco" and it was our (Cornet's) arch-rival, since the company also had a store in most of the other small towns where we were located.

My first day on the job, Gary told me to lose my tie and take a stroll through Rasco, where I should just look around and see if anything seemed interesting that he should know about.

Well, since I had barely become acquainted with our store, I really had no basis for comparing what was going on at Rasco. Nonetheless, I walked around and tried to look like a real customer who wasn't quite sure what he was looking for.

But the reason it's important to mention Rasco now is that later on I would quit Cornet and make Rasco an offer they couldn't refuse. And when I showed up for work to put my offer into action—you won't believe what I did.

(Details on this bizarre development here.)

After about two months of training in Tulare, I was sent to manage the Cornet store in Bakersfield, California. The $85 a week salary was not too bad for an unencumbered single guy in 1953, and I rather enjoyed the job.

(Continued in Next Column)

I particularly enjoyed having Lupita as an employee. When I told her I spoke a little Spanish, the coquettish Chicana smiled and started flirting with me in the language—but was discreet enough to not do it within earshot of the other sales-ladies.

Lupita was married and the flirting was just her idea of harmless fun. Even if she'd been single, company rules precluded managers from dating sales clerks anyway.

But her flirting became more intense after I told her about my trip to Cuba and how I loved doing the Latinamerican dances. In fact, I was beginning to think the flirting should stop, for fear of its getting out of hand.

But then one day she asked me if I'd like to take her dancing.

Dancing? "I'm not allowed to go out with employees," I told her, "and even if I was—what about your husband?"

"Oh, he doesn't care," she shrugged. "He's a stay-at-home who doesn't know how to dance and who doesn't like partying, anyway. I told him about you and he said going dancing with you would be just fine."

So I took her dancing.

We went to a cantina on the outskirts of town where, hopefully, I wouldn't be seen by anyone I knew. Well, the low-cut blouse and slit skirt she wore rather unnerved me, and her sexy way of dancing didn't do much to relax me, either. However, I made it through the evening and got Lupita home at about 1:00 in the morning.

But she wasn't in a hurry to get out of the car. In fact, she snuggled up next to me and said, "Let's just stay here for a while—okay?" and laid her head on my shoulder.

Well, I wish I had an exciting story to tell about a night of uninhibited passion with Lupita—but all I did was point out that we both had to be at work in a few hours and that we'd better say goodnight. So we did—and I walked her to her door, where she smiled and said "Thank you for a lovely evening." Then she gave me a kiss on the cheek and went inside.

Beyond that, the thought of losing my job and/or being pursued by a jealous husband was not too appealing, so I was glad the evening was over. As for going dancing again—well, it would have been a moot point, anyway, because I wasn't at the store for very much longer.

Here's what happened:

Since I again found myself in a city where the only people I knew were the sales-personnel I worked with, I spent my evenings painting signs for the store. I did large paper banners for the front windows and all kinds of counter cards and posters to display alongside the merchandise.

Well, one day Joe Cornet Jr. walked in and introduced himself. Then he looked around, and asked, "Where did all these signs come from?"

When I explained that I did them in the evening after the store closed, he said, "These signs are great! You know, we could use them in the other stores, too. How would you like to work out of our main office in Pasadena and go around to all the stores making signs?"

"That would be wonderful!" I replied enthusiastically.

Besides doing work I enjoy, I would also be back near my friends in Hollywood. What a deal! I could hardly wait to get started.

Mr. Cornet then said, "As soon as we can find a replacement for you here, we'll bring you to Pasadena and get you set up in our warehouse."

Less than a week later I was living in Pasadena and going all over Southern California to decorate Cornet stores. In fact, Joe Cornet Jr. took me with him on two occasions when he had to visit their Las Vegas store (their biggest and most profitable branch) and on one occasion Bob Cornet (Joe Jr.'s younger brother) flew me to their Boise store in his private plane.

It was really a fun job and they were paying me $150 a week (which seemed like a pretty decent salary for a high-school drop-out in those days).

In fact, the Cornets were very good to me and I thought maybe I had found a job that would last me the rest of my working life. Furthermore, Joe Cornet's Jr.'s secretary seemed to like me, and before long we were dating.

Pat was a slim blue-eyed redhead of about my age, and after a few dates she wanted us to "go steady." Well, I was still in love with Norma Jean Salina (although I couldn't tell Pat about this) and found I really couldn't offer her the kind of comittment she wanted. However, I wasn't seeing anyone else—so we actually were "going steady"—but not in the way she was hoping for.

Nonetheless, we had some good times together—and one occasion comes to mind rather vividly. Pat lived in Temple City, and the drive from my Pasadena apartment would usually take about 15 minutes. Well, it was January 1st and I had just finished watching the Rose Parade on TV.

I called Pat and asked if I could come by and she said, "Sure. Come on over." I said I'd be there in 15 minutes and headed for my car.

Well, it took 15 minutes just to back out of my driveway and another 15 minutes to get to the first intersection on my way to Temple City.

I'd never been in Pasadena on New Years Day, and had no idea what I was getting myself into when I said I'd be at her house in a quarter of an hour.

Of course there were no cell phones in those days, and it took over an hour to circle around the block and get back to my apartment, where I called and explained what had happened.

We settled for seeing each other later that night.

(Next Page)