Tearil was a good friend that I first met at age 10 in little league baseball. He played on the VFW team along with Cliff Sanders and Dan Daniel of our class. He was talented, good looking, musically inclined (was Drum Major for North Jr. High) and had so much potential ... but he struggled most of his adult life.
One of my most frightening moments in high school was with Tearil. He had been struggling and depressed since Charlene broke up with him. To make it worse, we had been out drinking. I dropped Tearil off at his home and drove to my home where I received a call. Tearil had cut his wrists. I jumped in my car and raced back to his house. His sister, Laquita, had just gotten home and had called police, who pulled up right after me. The policeman examined Tearil's cuts and determined he was not in immediate danger. I had never seen cut wrists before, much less slashed with numerous cuts by a razor blade. Add to that, Tearil had been crying and had his face in his hands so he had blood all over himself. As a 16 year old, I was horrified and asked the cop if he was going to take Tearil to the hospital. The cop replied something, I don't recall, but he was not taking him so I said I would. I threw Tearil in my Studebaker Datona and took off for the hospital. When I say took off, I really mean blast off. The car had a high performance 289 (3/4 racing cam, solid lifters, etc.) but most of all, it had a 4:56 positrac rearend with a four-speed. It was quick. This frightened 16-year old had it on the floor and running through the gears all the way to St. Mary's. Blasting off like that from the home, the police officer quit taking notes and took off after me in his car. He could not catch me but came to the hospital and was going to arrest me in the emergency room. The doctor's told him I was right, he was wrong, so that kept the handcuffs off.
After 1966, I only saw Tearil once or twice for a few minutes. Tearil's adult life was mostly taken up with drugs. He was in so much pain, he eventually died by his own hand. Tearil, I love you, Man, but I am having a difficult time forgiving you for wasting your talent and life. I pray I can someday. I pray you no longer suffer. I remember our good times, my friend.
Been waiting to say something about Tearil. Sounds hokey, but he was one of the naturally nicest people I ever knew. The night I was sent to the county jail after a raid on the wannabee hippie house in Fresno, the next day Tearil and I were going to drive to Albuquerque and make a new life.
Like Jim, I was with Tearil one night when he staged a wrist slashing, mainly a superficial one for me. I remember his deep depressions with the ups and downs with Charlene. When he wasn't confused he was a delight to be around. He was the first one to laugh at himself.
I remember him spending the night one night with me at my mom's upstairs apartment. My mom was a single mom and mostly worked, so I was left to mainly screw up at will. Tearil's family didn't know where he was. His big brother Bob showed up to take Tearil home. What I remember is that Bob wasn't mad at Tearil. He was just sad, sad that he or the family couldn't come to grips with Tearil's problems. Bob was very soft spoken at the retrieval. He felt sorry for Tearil, and I could see it, unusual for a big brother. Tearil looked for fights, didn't matter if he won or lost, mainly wanted to have his ass kicked.
I've always wished I wasn't thrown into jail that night, and that I had never had the chance to go to Albuquerque and find what Tearil called a "cold water flat". Might have made a difference, maybe not, but he generally did better when he was around me. I know he descended into drug abuse, deeper alcohol and whatever demons that drove him there after I knew him. But, he was, in many ways, a good kid.
Hal
James A "Jim" White
Tearil was a good friend that I first met at age 10 in little league baseball. He played on the VFW team along with Cliff Sanders and Dan Daniel of our class. He was talented, good looking, musically inclined (was Drum Major for North Jr. High) and had so much potential ... but he struggled most of his adult life.
One of my most frightening moments in high school was with Tearil. He had been struggling and depressed since Charlene broke up with him. To make it worse, we had been out drinking. I dropped Tearil off at his home and drove to my home where I received a call. Tearil had cut his wrists. I jumped in my car and raced back to his house. His sister, Laquita, had just gotten home and had called police, who pulled up right after me. The policeman examined Tearil's cuts and determined he was not in immediate danger. I had never seen cut wrists before, much less slashed with numerous cuts by a razor blade. Add to that, Tearil had been crying and had his face in his hands so he had blood all over himself. As a 16 year old, I was horrified and asked the cop if he was going to take Tearil to the hospital. The cop replied something, I don't recall, but he was not taking him so I said I would. I threw Tearil in my Studebaker Datona and took off for the hospital. When I say took off, I really mean blast off. The car had a high performance 289 (3/4 racing cam, solid lifters, etc.) but most of all, it had a 4:56 positrac rearend with a four-speed. It was quick. This frightened 16-year old had it on the floor and running through the gears all the way to St. Mary's. Blasting off like that from the home, the police officer quit taking notes and took off after me in his car. He could not catch me but came to the hospital and was going to arrest me in the emergency room. The doctor's told him I was right, he was wrong, so that kept the handcuffs off.
After 1966, I only saw Tearil once or twice for a few minutes. Tearil's adult life was mostly taken up with drugs. He was in so much pain, he eventually died by his own hand. Tearil, I love you, Man, but I am having a difficult time forgiving you for wasting your talent and life. I pray I can someday. I pray you no longer suffer. I remember our good times, my friend.
Hal Hill
Been waiting to say something about Tearil. Sounds hokey, but he was one of the naturally nicest people I ever knew. The night I was sent to the county jail after a raid on the wannabee hippie house in Fresno, the next day Tearil and I were going to drive to Albuquerque and make a new life.
Like Jim, I was with Tearil one night when he staged a wrist slashing, mainly a superficial one for me. I remember his deep depressions with the ups and downs with Charlene. When he wasn't confused he was a delight to be around. He was the first one to laugh at himself.
I remember him spending the night one night with me at my mom's upstairs apartment. My mom was a single mom and mostly worked, so I was left to mainly screw up at will. Tearil's family didn't know where he was. His big brother Bob showed up to take Tearil home. What I remember is that Bob wasn't mad at Tearil. He was just sad, sad that he or the family couldn't come to grips with Tearil's problems. Bob was very soft spoken at the retrieval. He felt sorry for Tearil, and I could see it, unusual for a big brother. Tearil looked for fights, didn't matter if he won or lost, mainly wanted to have his ass kicked.
I've always wished I wasn't thrown into jail that night, and that I had never had the chance to go to Albuquerque and find what Tearil called a "cold water flat". Might have made a difference, maybe not, but he generally did better when he was around me. I know he descended into drug abuse, deeper alcohol and whatever demons that drove him there after I knew him. But, he was, in many ways, a good kid.
Hal