Everett Schwartz (1962)

"SONNY" WAS KILLED IN VIETNAM, WHY ISN'T THERE A US FLAG.

Charles Dale Kutz Jr (1964)

I took it very hard when I was told that Sonny had been killed in Vietnam. It bothered me deeply for a long time; I will never get over it. He was so close to coming home, which made it all that much more bitter to me. All of a sudden the war in Vietnam was no longer, just in the news, it had reached out its ugly claws and snatched one of our lifelong friends away from us.  

I grew up with Sonny, as far back as I can remember he was a part of my life (our lives). We played together, stayed the night at each other’s house on occasion, went through grade school and high school together. After high school  I worked side by side with Sonny, as we rough necked in the oilfields. My dad always thought that Sonny was a great hand, which he was. For the matter, if you think that Sonny, Keith Eckel and I did not make a good crew of rough necks, think again. We were a crew!

Sonny had a Triumph Bonneville motorcycle; we had cars, which meant that during inclement weather he would ride with us as we “dragged” main looking for our friends over and over and over. Yes, sometimes (no really) we were looking for a new girl to flirt with.  Sometimes, we would just park and watch others go by,  it was fun, no worries. .

 If Sonny went out on a date, generally it was a double date, in one of our cars (go figure). Believe me when I tell you that Sonny was a master at finding you a blind date! Once he tried to get one of his girlfriend’s mothers to be my date (real time), that memory is still so vivid. My original blind date for that evening, had cancelled out, which we did not learn until we arrived at his girlfriend’s house. Fortunately, “cougars” were not in vogue at that time and “The Graduate” had yet to be filmed. Both the mother and I were mortified and embarrassed by the antics of Sonny and his girlfriend in this matter. In order to extricate myself from the situation, I volunteered the use of my car to Sonny for the rest of the evening. Could Sonny have been that conniving? You can bet your paycheck on that! Memories! Memories! Memories!

My most memorable of Sonny’s antics:
Sonny had hopped up his motorcycle to the point that that thing was scary fast! One evening he decided to make a high speed pass down the Calhoun blacktop past his dad’s shop.  Sonny went down to Highway 130 turned around and headed east back towards us. We could hear him going through the gears as he wound the bike out, going for the flying mile! We could hear the Bonneville screaming louder and louder with everything that it had to offer in high gear, as it closed in on our position.  Sonny was closing in on us so fast that you could distinctly hear the doppler shifting its pitch very noticeably. God only knows how fast he was going, even if the speedometer told the truth, it did not read that high! Now Sonny was lying down on the gas tank, as any knowledgeable high speed motorcyclist would do, in order garner that last increment of speed. As he passed by the shop, he sat bolt upright on the Bonneville! His body became a giant wind brake and his face became so distorted, that he was totally unrecognizable!  He quickly slowed down, went on down the road a piece, turned around and came back to us at a more gentlemanly pace. We were laughing and cheering hysterically at his speed and deed. Then we noticed that Sonny’s face had lost some of its color. Sonny told us that he was having no more of that, seems that when he sat bolt upright at that velocity, he had to hang on for dear life,  the wind blast wanted to rip him off of the bike!  Fortunately he managed to remain on his bike and lived to tell about. Those were the days.

Fate was holding another day in store for Sonny. I miss him.

Charles Kutz