Scotty, was one of the boys from the north part of the "south side", so his gang with Kruchek, the Grawes, the Boll's, even Boeck would sometimes clash with the other southsiders; Littons, Harris's, Mohs', Muellers, McAnn, etc. We always had them out numbered, but the BB gun fights were pretty cool! Scott was a good friend, and was always willing to listen. His life was difficult, but I remember his laughter...
Scott Kalash saved my life. That ridiculous, but potentially fatal, 9th grade (I was a big 90 pounder then! ha) fight with Randy Milbrandt (sp?) was over before it started, when his first 10 punches landed as my coat was being taken off with my arms behind my back. With the dozens of kicks to my braces-ladened mouth/face, and gushing blood, all the while he was saying "I'm going to kill him, I"m going to kill him" I was confident he would. And on my stomach at the end, with Randy's knee in my back and strangling me from behind, still promising he was going to kill me, I knew he would, and just before I blacked out (almost there), Scott Kalash was the only one among the dozens watching in that alley who had the courage to step in and jerk Randy off of me, and kept him away. I think of that, and him, often. And thereafter he was there for me when the many foolish fights followed (with much better results for me). He was a very nice guy, with a good heart, who very much loved only one woman since he was very young. Too bad that didn't work out and he was never happy without her. I wish I'd kept in better contact with him, and thanked him frequently, for my life.
Brian Litton
Scotty, was one of the boys from the north part of the "south side", so his gang with Kruchek, the Grawes, the Boll's, even Boeck would sometimes clash with the other southsiders; Littons, Harris's, Mohs', Muellers, McAnn, etc. We always had them out numbered, but the BB gun fights were pretty cool! Scott was a good friend, and was always willing to listen. His life was difficult, but I remember his laughter...Jim Lewis
Scott Kalash saved my life. That ridiculous, but potentially fatal, 9th grade (I was a big 90 pounder then! ha) fight with Randy Milbrandt (sp?) was over before it started, when his first 10 punches landed as my coat was being taken off with my arms behind my back. With the dozens of kicks to my braces-ladened mouth/face, and gushing blood, all the while he was saying "I'm going to kill him, I"m going to kill him" I was confident he would. And on my stomach at the end, with Randy's knee in my back and strangling me from behind, still promising he was going to kill me, I knew he would, and just before I blacked out (almost there), Scott Kalash was the only one among the dozens watching in that alley who had the courage to step in and jerk Randy off of me, and kept him away. I think of that, and him, often. And thereafter he was there for me when the many foolish fights followed (with much better results for me). He was a very nice guy, with a good heart, who very much loved only one woman since he was very young. Too bad that didn't work out and he was never happy without her. I wish I'd kept in better contact with him, and thanked him frequently, for my life.