George H. Weber
Written in the spirit of Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer not on a Mississippi River raft, but on the railroads and highways of South Dakota this book captures the hopes, aspirations and excitement-seeking of two South Dakota adolescent boys.
Share the high adventure of Carl and Wes as they ride the freights and hitchhike across South Dakota and back, seeing the wonders of the Bad Lands, Mt. Rushmore and the Black Hills, all on a shoestring budget. Meet their generous benefactors who help them along the way, many of whom are regular folks. Others are distinctive, colorful characters. Enjoy the scenery the exotic color and strangeness of the Bad Lands, the penetrating force of Mt. Rushmore and the dark mystery of the Black Hills. Laugh at Carl and Wes as they explore the excitement of a casino and the secrets of a bordello. Cringe as they cope with the dangers of freight trains and fight against continued incarceration by a local police chief interested in furthering his political career. Grieve as they are locked in a box car and left on an isolated railroad siding. Finally, rejoice as they make their final part of their journey home sitting inside a passenger train.
George H. Weber holds a Ph.D. (Sociology) from the University of Kansas, and has trained in psychology and psychoanalytic therapy. He has had a dual career in human service practice and academia heading Minnesota s institutions for delinquents and youthful offenders, serving as Executive Secretary of President Kennedy s Committee on Youth Employment, and working as Deputy Director of NIMH s Division of Special Mental Health Programs. He has taught at several major universities, including the Washington College of Law of American University, Georgetown University, University of Minnesota and The Catholic University of America. He is currently an Emeritus Professor at The Catholic University.
Dr. Weber has edited, co-edited and written nine books. He is the author of more than fifty professional articles and reviews, and he has written three additional books, forthcoming soon: Eldercare: A Clinical Primer for Volunteers (non-fiction); The Pursuit of Altruism (a collection of fifteen interrelated short stories); and Abide With Me (the tragic seduction of an adolescent inmate by a reformatory teacher). He lives in the Tampa, Florida area.
Frightened, I jumped up as I felt a tap on my shoulder, but was relieved to see Wes face to face. But it was not the usual pleasant expression of Wes s that I saw, but one of fear. He murmured, "I can t figure out what s happening. The train is not moving. No noise, it s deadly quiet. Can t hear the engine, nothing."
I pulled the plugs from my ears and listened ever so carefully. I couldn t hear a thing and in a frightened voice said, "It s absolutely still. Absolutely!"
We jumped up, saw a beam of light coming through the cracks that framed the closed car door and ran to it. Wes tried to pull the door open and when he failed I lent my weight to pull it open, thinking that surely would do it.
In spite of our best efforts, however, the door did not move, not an inch. We tried again and again without success. The door on the other side of the car had been locked when we entered the car. Though we knew that, we attacked that door with all of our strength. But our strenuous pulling and pushing did not change it. It was as it was. Wes shouted the obvious and devastating fact. "We re locked in!"
Gripped by overwhelming fear, I shouted with equal force, "You re right! We re locked in! We re locked in!"
We ran to the first door and pounded on it furiously, kicked its middle section where we thought the latch was, hoping that someone would hear us or that we might break out. Neither happened. I looked at Wes and though I could hardly see him I noticed a strange worry that I had never seen before. I cried out, "What are we going to do? What are we going to do?"
He shook his head but said nothing.
Pale with fear we dashed around the car, hoping to find an exit. We knew such was unlikely but our panic pressed us to discover the undiscoverable. Despite my terror I recalled the jackknife in my hip pocket . I hurriedly pulled it out, opened it and attacked the heavy wood frame of the door, aiming at the section where I thought it most vulnerable. But the knife was no match for the heavy, hard wood, and efforts to splinter it failed when the blade broke. My fear exploded. "Now that way to escape is gone!" I cursed the knife and threw what remained of it on the floor.
The alarm swept back and forth between us as we recognized our hopeless situation. Wes, though desperate, had not given up completely. He exclaimed, "Let s try the ceiling, the roof. Sometimes there are doors, like trap doors, that are cut in from the roof."
George H. Weber
2016 New Bedford Drive
Sun City Center, FL 33573
(813) 633-5912
