CFB53 Update

Hey, my dad went to this game. Here's a picture of his ticket.

It's fun to imagine his parking somewhere near West Drive, entering Gate F (passing through the future Terry Donahue Pavilion) and settling in to his seat and view of the game.

Dad and Mom had moved out to California from Indiana for him to start a university course of study in computerized engineering, but the school turned out to be a sham. Here's what Dad wrote about the aftermath of that experience before he died in 1999:

I dropped out and found an office job with a local heavy construction firm in Alhambra. It was there I met A.G. 

Born in Tennessee and a graduate of Vanderbilt University, A.G. was without doubt the most intelligent, honest and informative person I have ever been associated with then or now. A chemical engineer by profession, he also had earned a degree in business and finance.  It was in finance that he excelled. He was 66 years old when I first met him.

The company at which I had been hired as an assistant bookkeeper contracted with A.G. to assist them to work out some of their difficulties. A.G., having little faith in those responsible for records, promptly called a stockholder meeting and, at days end, I had been appointed comptroller. Within hours everything was pad-locked, and I had the only keys.

Quickly I learned of A.G.'s background. Back during the middle and late 1920s, A.G. thrived in the stock market. Foreseeing the coming crash of 1929, A.G. sold all his stock, gathered his wife, Tilly, and his belongings and went to France. Due to exchange value between the dollar and franc, A. G. was worth even more in France. He remained there until middle 1938 when, fearing World War II and the Nazis, A.G. sold his interest in France and returned to the United States.

By then, the United States was booming, so A.G. invested in those businesses he believed would serve a war effort and forthright earned more wealth. After the war, in 1946, A.G. once again returned to France as agent for a large American air compressor manufacturing plant and there established their sales organization. In 1948, A.G. came home again, established a small plastic manufacturing plant and produced and sold small ladles for dipping ground coffee from sealed cans and small plastic caps for soda bottles once metal caps had been removed. In addition, he contracted his talents to bonding companies, banks and other investment interests to investigate conditions of troubled corporations. He also sidelined as an agent for various universities to seek endowments for which he received 5 percent for his efforts. ...

... I found myself resented by others at the company. Hired only as an assistant bookkeeper, I now was untouchable. They also resented my work schedule, and I couldn't blame them. A.G. was more of a 9-until-noon-type person than 9 to 5. We worked maybe two hours in the morning and spent the afternoon in the club room at Santa Anita race track. During afternoons I was driver, valet and bet maker. Mornings, I gathered what information he needed and sat with him in our conference room while he scrutinized everything in detail. By noon, we were off to the races again.

New Year’s Day 1954, A.G. and I watched Michigan State play UCLA in the Rose Bowl. Jinny spent that same day with Tilly watching the Rose Parade and doing what women do.

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