Our first Pacific Coast Singles

The year was 1975.  The Vietnam War was ending as Communist forces took Saigon and South Vietnam surrendered unconditionally.   

"Wheel Of Fortune" debuted on NBC-TV. 

Jimmy Hoffa, who served as the president of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters (IBT), disappeared in suburban Detroit.

Microsoft was founded as a partnership between Bill Gates and Paul Allen to develop and sell computer software.

Saturday Night Live, the late-night comedy and variety show, premiered on NBC with George Carlin as host.

Ted Gross, Guy Lampard, yours truly, Kris Surano, Steve Morton

It was also the year when 3 intrepid undergraduate students from Cal, at the urging of their coach, Dick Crawford, piled into Kris' yellow VW super beetle and acted upon their burgeoning sense of wanderlust by traveling to Portland, Oregon, to play in their first tournament outside of the Golden State - The Pacific Coast Singles Championships. The three were Kris Surano, Steve Morton, and yours truly.

Because we started late that Thursday morning, it became apparent that we wouldn't be able to complete the 10 hour trip in one leg; so we stopped as we crossed into Oregon (Medford, I think) to rest up for the next day's final leg.

We checked into this dive and encountered the motel clerk with this tattooed on his fingers. Boy, life sure was different outside of Berkeley!

We had a fitful night of sleep, (as much as could be expected by three ego-driven squash players sharing a motel room together for the first time). After the dawn and after a few more uneventful hours on the road, we finally arrived in Portland. 

Making our way through the city of Portland, what we encountered was magnificent - the lofty Multnomah Athletic Club stood before us; a club that boasted having over 20,000 members which served as the social and athletic heart of the city. For these callow students feeling their oats of squash adventure, it was something to behold.

The pro of the MAC was none other than Al McKeown, otherwise known to us, given his personality and wild hair. good-naturedly, as "Bozo the Clown" 

Every participant of the tournament knew at the time that Al was dealing with some form of cancer. It was awkward for most everyone; at least for me, to broach the matter with him. 

I also remember while he was warming up for one of his matches, he  suddenly doubled over and let out a dramatically loud moan.  We, in the gallery, gasped out of concern and were distressed as well.  

We all thought and a few exclaimed, "Al, what's the matter?! Do you need help!?". 

Al, as he casually stood up, looked up to the gallery, and let us in on the joke by displaying the most sheepish grin I have ever witnessed as he then looked away and continued to warm up.

It was just Al being Al. Never a boring moment while in his company. 

John

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