In thinking back to 1960 and my time in Wisconsin, that year changed the direction of my life more than I thought at the time. My family (my mom, dad, younger sister Laurie and younger brother Greg, me, and my grandfather Smith) moved from Lafayette, Indiana to Madison, Wisconsin in 1960 for a year. I was 15. My Dad took courses toward a Ph.D. at the University of Wisconsin. We moved into a 2 bedroom graduate student housing apartment in the fall of 1960. I slept with my 87-year-old grandfather in single beds in one room, my sister and brother in a bunk bed in the other room and my mom and dad in a rollout bed in the living room. There was a small dining room and kitchen. It was a huge downsize from our two-story, four-bedroom house in Lafayette and yet I have good memories of that year.
I enrolled as a sophomore at Madison West High School. Most of the kids there were from families connected to the University of Wisconsin and I soon learned they were very academically motivated. I had spent my 9th-grade year in Lafayette focused mostly on sports and was maybe a C+ student. During my first month at Madison West, I remember noticing all my classmates studying hard and being prepared for each class. I failed my first Latin and geometry tests and feared being ineligible for sports. I started doing homework, studying, and reviewing past material daily. By late October I was passing all tests and beginning to feel a rhythm academically. As the semester neared the end I learned there would be a finals week and the tests would account in some cases for up to half the course grade. I was unprepared and scared. A neighbor had left for a holiday and I got to use their apartment to study for finals. I spent three full days studying and ended with a 3.2 out of a 4.0 grade average. For the first time, I realized academic success was not simply a matter of intelligence. It required preparation, discipline, and daily effort.
I went out for the football team and soon started as an end on the sophomore team. Toward the end of the season, I was promoted to the varsity, playing with Tim Van Galder, who went on to star as quarterback for Iowa State and later play professionally for the St. Louis Cardinals football team. I knew then I wanted to play quarterback.
In December my brother Warren came home on leave from the Marine Corps. He had enlisted at 17 and just finished basic training at San Diego. He seemed very different to me- distant and quiet. My mom prepared his first meal at home and I remember a few minutes into the meal he said in his normal voice “Mom would you pass the F word beans?” Mom reacted immediately telling him that you don’t speak that way at this table. He went silent and I don’t recall him saying a word for the next week.
Warren Smith in Marine fatigues, Greg Smith, Pete Smith, and a Neighbor December, 1960
As spring came around I realized my dad would not finish his courses and return to Lafayette until the fall of 1961- too late to play football. I wanted to play football at Lafayette Jefferson High School and needed to work out and go through fall practice in the summer. I convinced my parents and my aunt and uncle who lived in Lafayette that I should move to Lafayette for the summer and live with them.
Once back in Lafayette, I announced to friends and coaches that I was going out for quarterback. I played Pony Colt summer baseball but was focused on getting in football shape. I was a pitcher so no arm strength issues. I ran several miles a day at a nearby track. Two-a-day fall practice started in August and my aunt, thinking I needed nutrition, would prepare a big meal before the second practice. Most times the meal left me shortly after practice started during tackling drills. I never told her not to feed me like that as I thought it would hurt her feelings.
I felt each practice and each drill was critical, never resting, always hustling, learning, and never backing down. Slowly I moved from 4th-string quarterback to 1st-string quarterback at the end of fall practice. I also won the starting cornerback position on defense. After spending months working toward that goal, I finally believed I had achieved my dream. In late August the team traveled to Logansport for a preseason game against Logansport High School. During the second quarter, Logansport was running an end sweep and I blitzed into their backfield and went helmet to helmet tackling their fullback. He got up and I was told later I was helped off the field wobbling and talking incoherently. I sat at the end of the bench and later sat on the grass. Luckily there was a medical doctor from Lafayette in the nearby stands who saw me, alerted the coach of his concern for my health, took me to his car, and drove me to a Lafayette hospital where I was immediately admitted into intensive care. I regained consciousness the next day and was told I had suffered a severe head concussion. I remember nothing about the game or the trip to the hospital. I do remember waking up the next day and a visit by the coach and some players. I never played football again.
Me with Jefferson High School Football coach McCaffery, August 1961 in St. Elizabeth Hospital
Rebounding from the loss of my football dream, my search for sports success continued and I went out for the basketball team. Most of the guys competing had been playing basketball since they were 6 or 7 years old. I did not make the varsity team but did make the B=Team. I don't recall playing much that year and did not pursue the school varsity basketball teams as a senior.
I went out for the Jeff baseball team in the spring and was a good enough pitcher to earned a letter but was not one of the better players. As I took stock of my situation, I knew it was time to change my goals at school
I had learned some valuable life lessons from not meeting my athletic goals. Losing football was one of the biggest disappointments of my teenage years. At the time it felt unfair and devastating. Looking back, however, it forced me to redirect my energy toward academics, leadership, and goals that ultimately shaped the rest of my life.
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