The men on GBI worked long hours during missile launches, sometimes around the clock, and partied hard when we were not working.
Drinks were very cheap in our club back in the 1958-60 timeframe, since there were not any taxes. Bar drinks and beer cost 25 cents and call drinks cost 40 cents. All bar drinks and beer only cost 10 cents during happy hour each evening.
I was the lead technician in the computer/data handling section. One of the men working for me, Ed, was the roommate of Carl, the lead technician of a Mod II radar crew. One night, the three of us were partying. Ed got drunk and passed out at the table.
Carl and I picked Ed up and put him in the corner on the floor out of sight for a joke. We then forgot about Ed as we continued partying. Finally, at last call, Carl and I took our drinks outside. After finishing that drink we each went to our rooms, totally forgetting about Ed.
The next morning, Ed did not show up at work. About 9:30, we were taking a coffee break and Carl came by. I asked him if Ed was sleeping in this morning after partying last night. Carl said that Ed must have gone to the village or somewhere, because he had not come to the room.
About that time, we both remembered what we had done. We were discussing what to do when the phone rang. It was Ed calling from the club. He said he had spent the night sleeping in the club and was going to his room to clean up. He would see us in about an hour.
I took my wife, Billie, to Oklahoma to stay with her parents before our third child was born. I spent the next few months on GBI without Billie and my children.
I was so certain the child would be a boy, that I was betting cases of beer with various people as to the sex of our unborn child. This was in 1959 before the days of sonograms. One September Sunday afternoon about 2:30, I was paged to the communications center. I had a telex that our son, Jay, had been born.
I immediately went on the base PA system and announced his birth and told everyone that the party was on me at the club. Almost everyone came by the club that afternoon and evening to have a drink on me. About 20 people had made bets with me and all but one paid me what a case of beer would cost.
The only person to not pay me was our manager, although he did come by and have a drink. The next day, he told me that he had paid for a case of beer at the club for me to take home. He said he wanted me to have it for myself instead of for everyone else.
We did have one big party that Sunday afternoon and evening and I still had a case of beer at home that the manager had bought.
My wife, Billie, never drank before we moved to GBI. She still drinks very little. She never found anything she liked. One night we were at a party in the club and they were serving Champagne. Someone asked her what she thought of Champagne. She said, "It taste's like beer to me."
On Memorial Day, we usually had a big beach party with hamburgers, hot dogs and plenty of beer. A radio in the communications center was tuned to the Indianapolis 500 race and piped to speakers at the beach.
One year, I watched a small group of men grab various managers and lead people and dump them in the ocean fully clothed. I handed Billie my wallet and watch.
As they began to work their way around the crowd to me, I took off running and ran into the ocean. Everyone laughed except those chasing me; I had taken away their fun.
Copyright © Jerry Blackerby 2009