The Porters

I played in several rock groups in the 60s and 70s in Freeport, Illinois, my hometown, beginning the year I graduated from high school and extending over the next eight years, with the exception of two I spent in the Army.

My first band was the Rebels with my brother on drums. It lasted about a year until Dan, the bass player, went off to college. The next band lasted until I was drafted.

Shortly after returning home from the Army I was asked to join what became the most successful group I played with. They were the Porters--the name came from Freeporters, dropping the free part. Don Herbig, whom I played with in the Rebels, was on lead guitar, and I played rhythm. Tom Meinders was the main lead vocalist. Tom was from my high school class, and we grew up in the same Sunday School class. The bass player and drummer, respectively, were Denny Kuhl and Tony Cannova formerly of Freeport's most popular group in history, the Nomadds.

I learned the band's material and sang lead on about a third of the group's repertoire. The band's trademark was three-part harmony, and the band was popular and had quite a following. We played every weekend for about a year, and then Don Herbig enlisted in the Army because he was about to get drafted. (Enlisted soldiers had more choice over military assignments.) We couldn't find another lead guitarist, but we knew a keyboardist from another town who was willing to join. That meant that if the band were to continue, I would have to learn to play lead guitar.

I didn't work at the time, and spent many days sitting on my bed with my guitar on my lap listening to songs on the radio and others I'd recorded on a mono cassette recorder and trying to pick out individual lead notes and riffs. Slowly but surely I got the hang of it well enough for the band to resume practicing, and we went on as popular as ever.

The Porters, September 1970, Freeport, Illinois

Performing in Cuba City, Wisconsin in 1971

After about another year Denny Kuhl left the group to play bass with a country band. So we picked up the brother of our keyboard player to replace him, on the left in the above photo. I recorded the band's rehearsals as we were breaking in our new bass player. One of the songs we rehearsed one night in the basement of Tony Cannova's parents' home, was The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore by the Walker Brothers, a British group. Just before we played it, I pressed "record" on my mono cassette recorder. The result has become my all-time favorite recording of the Porters. Here it is with the talented Tom Meinders on lead vocals and me on guitar--the Gibson Les Paul Junior pictured above--and singing high harmony.

The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore

Army Photo Album

July 1968: Back from R&R in Japan with chopsticks in my pocket and an umbrella in my hands. I still have the chopsticks. The bunker belongs to my squad, and was used as a sleeping as well as fighting position.

Checking what's left of an enemy bunker after a battle involving a air strike. Note how the vegetation is most likely destroyed.

Members of my platoon hunkered down after a firefight--low enough to avoid becoming targets yet high enough to see what's going on. Except for the guy standing up on the left taking a leak.

Displaying a captured AK-47 from the back of our squad's armored personnel carrier (M113). I'm wearing new boots; my original pair had worn out. I wore that set of fatigues, the only one I had at the time, for about three months until they rotted off my body.

Firing my captured AK-47 on full automatic. Note my toes--the recoil is throwing me backward. In a year of combat I never fired my weapon in combat on full auto. I did this time only for a photo opportunity.

Three members of my squad waiting for darkness before embarking on an ambush patrol. I'm on the left wearing my normal combat equipment including four hand grenades and 16 magazines of M16 ammunition. Over my shoulder is a belt of M60 ammo for our machine gunner.

A medical evacuation (called dust off) of wounded soldiers following a firefight. Not a good day.

Each squad had an armored personnel carrier, and we always rode on top because of mines and RPGs. Drivers came from our infantry ranks. Crossing rice paddy dikes was a skill our drivers mastered--eventually--climb slowly, then balance on top before descending on the other side. Any deviation ended up with riders thrown to the ground.

My disassembled M16. At first we were issued the original M16s, which jammed frequently. The replacements, which we received in December 1967, were a lot better, but I still cleaned it every day. When sufficient time was available, I even took apart the trigger assembly, as shown.

A friendly poker game by soldiers recovering from wounds in our division base camp at Cu Chi. Note crutches along the wall, and the hint of a bandage on the chest of the soldier on the right, a friend named Bob Ordy.

The Black Virgin Mountain, Nui ba den in Vietnamese, dominated the skyline of our division's area of operations. With minor exceptions, it was the only rise in the landscape, and is etched forever in the memories of soldiers who fought in its shadow. Nui ba den, translated, means Black Lady Mountain. Occasionally we set up at the mountain's base, providing security for a company of engineers who worked there crushing rocks into gravel. I snapped this photo as we were leaving for an operation. The track (armored personnel carrier) behind us is maintaining the proper distance in this area where land mines and ambushes were a concern.

My platoon returning to our company perimeter (right) after a sweep during a hot afternoon. We relaxed as we approached safety, as can be discerned by the way weapons are carried. That's our lieutenant walking in front of the RTO (the guy who carried the radio). Both were prime targets if we made contact. To slay a dragon, chop off its head. Next, cut off communication.

Our company perimeter during the monsoon season from the air. Sandbag bunkers and tracks line the perimeter while the mortar platoon, HQ, and our company's cooks are on the inside. Although it appears haphazard and unruly, it was highly organized and effective.

Our company's chow line in the field. Stations are spread apart in the event of a mortar attack. Our chances of surviving such an attack increased if we were not clustered together.

An afternoon squad patrol while providing security for Tan Son Nhut Air Force Base.

In the rear recuperating from my fourth and last wound, the brass casing from an AK-47 round that penetrated to the bone in my arm during a battle on 19 August 68. I recovered full use of my arm after a month, and because I was due to return home shortly, didn't return to the field.

Military Me--On Point

In a Nutshell:  In May of 1967 I was drafted and for two years became a soldier in the US Army. After six months of training at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri and subsequently Fort Polk, Louisiana, I flew to what was then South Vietnam to participate in ground action against Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army forces. I served with the second platoon of Charlie Company, 1/5 (Mech) Infantry, 25th Infantry Division--nicknamed Tropic Lightning. I went over as a private first class and eventually became a squad leader. I returned wearing sergeant stripes having been wounded on four occasions.

September 1968, Dau Tieng Basecamp, South Vietnam

On Point:  Given the above, one might surmise that I would have several anecdotes to share, and that hunch would be correct. I wrote extensively about my experiences in the military, and was fortunate to have it published in May 2000 by Presidio Press as a military memoir entitled On Point: A Rifleman's Year in the Boonies: Vietnam 1967 - 1968. The next year St. Martin's Press purchased paperback rights to the book. Shortly thereafter the large-print rights were bought by ISIS Publishing, located in Oxford, England, and they published hardback and paperback editions. The book won a Distinguished Book Award from the Army Historical Foundation, an organization dedicated to the preservation of the history of the American soldier. It also won the Stanley Larsen Award from the 25th Infantry Division Association, an organization comprised of veterans who served with the division.

Army Buddies:  Men at war form some of the closest bonds of society. I came home from Vietnam in 1968, and returned to civilian life in 1969 but to this day some of my closest friends are those from my Vietnam platoon or company. We keep in touch on an almost daily basis, which is wonderful.  

Citation of the Larsen Award

L to R: Presidio Press, St. Martin's Press, ISIS Publishing

Naturalist Me

How I Became A Naturalist: I returned home to Freeport, Illinois from the US Army in May 1969. A friend from my boy scout troop, Jeff, served two tours in Vietnam as a medic, after which he also returned to Freeport, arriving a couple of months after me. About once a week he would call and say, "I can't take it anymore; you wanna go?" After spending a year in the boonies, crowds, busy intersections, honking horns, and other signs of civilization that differed from the jungles of southeast Asia seemed foreign to us. We felt more at home in the woods. So we'd head out. Often we built a fire and roasted hot dogs. Sometimes we camped. Jeff had a canoe, and on several occasions we paddled down Yellow Creek, which flows through Stephenson County, to find a spot we had not previously explored.

It was during these jaunts with Jeff that what I term my scientific curiosity kicked in. I remember the exact moment it happened. We had found a patch of woods we wanted to explore, and we tied Jeff's canoe to a tree, and scampered up a wooded hill. I was the first to reach the top--Jeff was still tying up the canoe--and came face to face with a mysterious bird in the lower branches of a pine tree. It looked at me calmly for a few seconds then flitted away. I was intrigued, wondering what this bird could be. The next day I bought a bird book, and carried it with me when we went to the woods. Soon I added tree and flower field guides, and carried all three books in a backpack.

I identified everything that stood still, and while doing so developed an appreciation for nature which hasn't faded after all these years; rather, it has snowballed. The things I learned led to further appreciation for the natural world, which in turn prompted the desire to learn more.

For the previous few years I had been making my living as a musician, but I was married with a child on the way, so it was time for more financial stability. I decided I wanted to work in wildlife management or ecology--something to do with the natural world I had come to love. My uncle, my mom's brother, was a forester in Virginia, and was offered an honorary PHD and became the Director of the Applied Forestry Research Institute, Syracuse University. I wrote to him for advice. He said I could study Ecology, Biology, or Wildlife Management, but from his experience most of the people doing work in those fields had Forestry degrees. So he recommended that I study Forestry, and at the worst I'd get a job related to what I wanted to do.

That made sense to me, so our small family moved to Carbondale, Illinois and set up housekeeping in a rented mobile home. I attended Southern Illinois University and earned a degree in Forestry (with Specialization in Natural Resources Management). That led to a career as a Park Ranger for the US Army Corps of Engineers, a great job from which after twenty-eight years I am retired.

The mystery bird? It was a Black-capped Chickadee. 

Family

I've been married for 43-years to a girl, the former Lonnie Ferrari, I met in Freeport, Illinois, my hometown.We have two grown sons and four grandkids. Our oldest son, an actor with a day job, lives in LA. He and his wife have a son and a daughter. Our younger son lives half an hour away, and is a musician, also with a day job. He has a son from a previous marriage, and he and his wife have a daughter.

My parents divorced when I was in my early 20s, and Mom remarried and moved to Tucson. Lonnie's parents retired, sold their house, and became full-time RVers. In the mid 70s they found themselves in Arizona where they stayed for the next 35-years. My mom and Lonnie's parents got together regularly while in Arizona.

Our two moms: mine on the left; Lonnie's on the right.

Family Trees:   Because of space limitations, five generations are shown although they go back a lot further. Ancestry research was conducted only on American shores, so flags of origin are used to denote immigrant ancestors.

Roger's Tree

Lonnie's Tree

The Hayes Line in Illinois:    The first Hayes to move to Stephenson County, where I was born and raised, was Lemuel, my great-grandfather. (My dad's middle name was Lemuel, but he didn't like it, so don't tell anyone.) Lemuel was born in Colesville, Broome County, New York. Records do not indicate why he left New York, but apparently he did so alone, and settled in Illinois. He lived for a time in Nauvoo, where he worked as a wagon maker. In the early 1850s, he moved north to Stephenson County, and purchased 110 acres, on which he established a farm. He married his neighbor's daughter, and the couple raised sixteen children, the youngest of whom was my grandfather, Ralph E. Hayes. The farm is located midway on a line extending from Lena to Stockton, and half a mile north of US Route 20. 

Lemuel's farm, identified by the white border:

As it appears today--well, make that last winter.

In April 2013 our family was together--with both sons and their families.

Zander 15, Miranda 2, Autumn 7, Arden 5

Musician Me

How it started:  When I was seven, my family visited my Uncle Hans and Aunt Helen at their home in Monroe, Wisconsin. After supper I explored his home, which was an intriguing log cabin. In a closet within view of the adults sitting at the table drinking coffee and chatting, I found a black instrument case. As the adults watched, I carefully pulled it from the closet and placed it on the floor. Opening the case revealed a banjo. Its intricate design and numerous parts captivated me, and I examined it for several minutes. Then without touching it, I closed the case and returned it to the closet. My parents took notice, and on my next birthday I received a ukulele--the one shown below.
It came with a pamphlet with tuning tips and charts showing about a dozen chords. A few songs with chords superimposed were in the booklet, and that got me started as it was designed to do. The first song I learned was "How Much Is That Doggy In The Window." Thankfully no audio clips from that era exist.

My first ukulele--1955

When I was 12 I added two lower strings and switched to guitar. That was a long time ago, and I recently returned to my ukulele roots after visiting my son in LA, and playing with his ukulele.

Here's me in my kitchen (good acoustics) performing You Make Me Feel So Young.

I also have a digital, multi-track recorder, and have recorded bunches of stuff, mostly from the 1940s, a period of music I have grown to love. My recording process is as follows: First I record my guitar (rhythm guitar). Next I record the lead vocal while listening to the guitar on track 1 in my headphones. Then I add harmony parts, bass, and a second guitar part if applicable. Then when it's all done, I re-record the lead vocal. At that point it's like singing with an orchestra rather than a guitar. It's more fun, and I can do better.

 Here's Moonlight Becomes You, from the 1942 film, Road To Morocco, starring Bob Hope and Bing Crosby.

Moonlight Becomes You

Note: after this song concludes, another starts, but it's not me. If I can find a way, I'll turn that feature off. Meanwhile, feel free to stop the song. 


Music from the 1940s: Back in the 70s I watched a televised mini series about World War II (the big one). In the soundtrack were songs from the period, some of which were by the Glenn Miller Orchestra. I knew just enough to recognize the sound of Glenn Miller, and considered it rather catchy.  A month or so later I found a double album--back in the LP days--on sale, and brought it home. When I put it on the turntable, I was surprised to hear vocalists; I thought it was mostly instrumental. I had a lot to learn. Or maybe relearn since we heard much of this music on our family radio when my siblings are I were kids.

I grew to appreciate the music I heard on that album, and eventually branched out to include Benny Goodman, Tommy Dorsey, Artie Shaw, and a few others. Since I was a musician, it was only natural to try to play some of the songs I heard via those albums, although the chord progressions are challenging at best.

Another of my favorites is this one, written for the 1941 film Sun Valley Serenade, set at a ski lodge and starring Sonja Henie, John Payne, Lynn Bari, and featuring the Glenn Miller Orchestra.

I Know Why (and So Do You)
 

Ohio Buckeye and Fall Colors