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Hawkeye Memories

Dick Spencer is one of those names from my youth that pops into mind a bit more frequently than do many others. I'm sure I would think of him even more if I still lived in the state of Iowa rather than in Michigan, where I have lived for more than half a century.

Why would that be true?

Well, Dick is the artist who created Herky the Hawk, that caricaturistic figure representing the University of Iowa Hawkeyes that everyone sees whenever a UI athletic team appears on television. In Iowa, I'm sure, Herky turns up much more frequently than he does in Michigan—or anywhere else for that matter.

During my attendance in 1989 at the celebration of the 50th anniversary of my graduating class of Roosevelt High School in Des Moines, I was quickly aware that Dick was not present and had no plans to be there. Within hours, I heard that someone had talked to him from his hospital bed in Colorado a day earlier, at which time he sent greetings to his classmates. Within weeks of the reunion, I received a phone call from someone who reported to me that Dick had passed away after a fight with cancer. I was sorry to have missed him at the reunion because he was one of my special friends from the time he arrived in Des Moines from his native Texas to live with his grandparents.

We must have been about ten years old when he first came to Des Moines. I don't remember exactly the year that the move took place. I had no idea why Dick came to live with his grandparents? Did one of his parents die? Did he become orphaned? Was there a divorce? Was the move to be temporary? I had no idea, and even less interest at the time and certainly no inclination to ask the question. All I knew is that I liked Dick and he liked me. You could say that "we really hit it off."

Dick had other childhood friends as well, for his magnetic personality attracted many others to him. One reason for that affection might have been his Texas accent, which was certainly different from that of an "Iowegian." Another reason might have been his sense of humor. He always kept us laughing and his interests were extensive.

I recall his love for riding his bicycle and the many long trips we would take around the Des Moines area. At least, those trips were long for a couple of ten- or twelve-year-olds. (In retrospect, I realize he probably enjoyed bicycle riding because it was a suitable substitute for the horseback riding that was apparently common for him back in Texas.)

Those trips included long rides to Commerce Park, waaaay out Grand Avenue, west of Valley Junction. Today, that area has been consumed by the city of West Des Moines and Commerce Park is probably part of someone's backyard. We probed the lake and river areas that were major parts of the park, and Dick would stir up rattlesnakes, which—to me—were frightening if not repulsive. He carried a hunting knife or two and impressed me with his ability to target a snake and pin him to the ground with one of his knives! Obviously, a talent perfected in Texas and one which I had little interest in pursuing. He'd put a couple of snakes in a sack, take them home, and produce belts. Now there was an industrious kid!

Dick's love of the outdoors was expressed in his interest in sports as well. We had vacant-lot football and other such games, but he enjoyed rainy day activities as well. When the game of Monopoly suddenly stormed upon the scene, we kids were right there with everyone else playing that board game. Sometimes at our house at 40th and Kingman Boulevard or at his grandparent's house at the southeast corner of 35th and Cottage Grove. We had great times together. Dick's talents went far beyond pinning snakes or horseback riding; he was a good student as well.

As one who played the piano while in high school, one of my interests was music and trying to see the Big Bands when they would play one-nighters in Des Moines. Dick thought it would be a good idea to try to interview some of the bandleaders. I had a knack of meeting and talking to people, he was an ambitious writer and on the staff of the school paper, and he thought we could be a good team to write up interviews and have them printed in the paper, the Roosevelt Round-up.

The major reason for Dick's presence on the staff of the paper was for his talent as a cartoonist, not as a writer, but Dick had a great talent for writing as well that, I suppose, began developing years earlier. We managed to produce several interview stories together.

One interview in particular that stands out in my mind was with Ted Lewis, one of the most popular entertainers of the day. Lewis had a great song and dance act utilizing a top hat and cane as integral props for the act. When we called him from the lobby of the Ford Des Moines Hotel, he very quickly said he would love to be interviewed and would come to the lobby to see us.

Lewis arrived off the elevator with his top hat and cane in hand, introduced himself (which he didn't have to do) and submitted to a myriad of questions as Spencer diligently took notes. After talking for some time, Lewis actually put on an act for us right there in the hotel lobby! I don't recall if a crowd gathered or not because I was so shocked and enthralled at this personal command performance that I failed to notice if there were others around. I suppose they did gather. It was hard to ignore such a performance, even though there were fewer people around the hotel lobby than might be the case today.

On the other hand, we had a cold and rude turndown by bandleader Henry Busse that served us as one of the realities of life.

Dick's talent as an artist, directed toward cartooning, made him well known to all the students and faculty. His friendly and outgoing personality, embellished with his sense of humor, endeared him to everyone who knew him.

Drawings on the pillars in the high school

As a matter of fact, the cafeteria at Roosevelt High, which also substituted as the study hall, had an impressive array of Spencer's original caricatures painted on each of the large support pillars. Today, I'm glad I had the foresight to take pictures of some of them. Remember that cameras were not as readily available then, especially when it came to taking pictures indoors. Color film was barely available, and, if it could be found, the cost was impractical. Of course, the pictures I took of the paintings were time exposures on black-and-white film

Dick enjoyed himself most when he was drawing. He would draw caricatures of many of his friends on his class notes. I have a number of them and recall his doing the same for others, so there must be dozens of such drawings—if not hundreds or thousands of them! He took great joy in characterizing his friends in those numerous drawings, none of which were insults, but rather classic fun as Spence's expression of affection for others.

While in high school, Dick had an accident. A most uncharacteristic thing for Dick to do. It seems he tripped while ascending the stairs and his face came in contact with one of the steps above him, cutting his nose. The severity of the wound didn't seem to require any special attention other than some light disinfectant and perhaps a Band-Aid.

That wasn't enough, however, for a rather severe infection set in and began to cause all sorts of problems for Dick. The infection, I'm told, touched his brain, which was probably the reason he fell into a long-term coma. Many of us went to see him at the Methodist Hospital in Des Moines and were devastated that such a thing could happen to this much-beloved guy.

Things became worse for him, necessitating an extremely long stay in the hospital. I hesitate to comment on the length of the stay, but it was many weeks. On a visit to see him after a week or more, I was shocked to see in the bed this yet-alive, but skeletal, figure that could scarcely speak. Dick was not tall, nor was he very heavy, but he could not have weighed more than 80 pounds when I saw him that day.

Probably the most difficult day of my life, up until that time, was the day I received a phone call from Dick's grandfather asking if he could count on me to be a pallbearer at Dick's funeral! Of course, I knew how bad he looked, but I couldn't imagine that he could be so near death.

Within the next several days, Dick took a positive turn toward recovery. His grandfather again called to give me the good news and I returned to the hospital to see Dick. Yes, indeed, he was better. He looked no better physically than he had the last time I saw him, but his positive attitude and smile made it clear to me that he was on the road to recovery. Dick missed nearly a year of school, so his high school graduation was postponed, making it possible for him to be in my class, which surely did not displease me.

Following graduation, Dick enrolled at the University of Iowa at Iowa City and I enrolled at Drake University in Des Moines, so that constant personal contact was suddenly interrupted. We corresponded, of course, and I was most pleased that we joined the same college fraternity (Alpha Tau Omega), although on different campuses.

At the university, Dick was most active in many areas. He became an officer in the ROTC; he was on the university swimming team; he was on the staff of the UI newspaper and yearbook, and I'm sure there were other things about which I am unaware.

The next interruptions in our lives were twofold. World War II postponed any plans we might have had; and I made a permanent move to Michigan. I saw Dick in the uniform of a paratroop officer several times before I moved, however. I can't help but comment on the fact that this one-time sickly, death-bound body now found itself in one of the toughest branches of the service! It was a bit embarrassing to me who was ineligible for military service for health reasons.

During the war, I frequently corresponded with Dick and, as one might suspect, his V-Mail letters were a joy to receive, each with an accompanying cartoon. He was a cartoonist for Stars and Stripes, a service publication for the troops around the world. I must reflect on the scrutiny that the censors gave to all letters from the servicemen overseas. Anything expressed in the content of a letter that might reveal a semblance of a military secret was eliminated.

Dick was very careful to avoid mentioning the location of any of his many exploits, as well as where he was at the moment; however, in one letter, he stated that he would soon be back into the thick of the action with another jump, carefully eliminating any mention of the location. In the corner of the letter was a drawing of a paratrooper in a diving configuration, diving toward a small sketch of an island that high school geography would help identify as Sicily! By the time I received the letter, the Sicily jump had been completed, but I then knew that Dick had had a part in it.

"During the war, I frequently corresponded with Dick and, as one might suspect, his V-Mail letters were a joy to receive, each with an accompanying cartoon. He was a cartoonist for Stars and Stripes, a service publication for the troops around the world."

He made four jumps into military engagements and I understand that he was wounded in all of them and took part in considerable hand-to-hand combat. One of his V-Mail letters, written from France, was of a morbid tone. He said he was paralyzed from the waist downward and he could not walk. His depression was most understandable, but like just about every other disagreeable circumstance he encountered, he recovered to enter a most productive civilian life. Which he most certainly did. His cartooning appeared in many newspapers and magazines around the country; he taught at the University of Iowa; he was on the staff of the Colorado publication The Western Horseman, and, in later years, he became its owner and publisher.

As the years passed, my personal contact with Dick completely disappeared, although a now-and-then letter managed to come into play. Distance has a way of interfering with our lives, but certainly not as it once did in earlier times. I regret that I cannot continue with a more complete biography of Dick Spencer, but perhaps that's already been done. I hope so. He was such an outstanding and contributing person.

Joe Penberthy
Farmington, Michigan

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