Ditching Cab Drivers

A comment I made on a previous post about a story Philip told me about a wildly risky "ride-and-dash" from a cab triggered a memory Kevin had of a similar occurrence. Here is his story:

Ditching taxi drivers, hmmm? I remember at least one instance where Philip "rode and ran" in Bellingham. It occurred after a visit to a girl friend he was seeing during spring quarter 1973, toward the end of our first year at Western. I don't know the young woman's name. Phil never revealed it to Jerry or me. He only allowed that she lived alone in a studio at The Belvedere Apartments on Holly Street, just north of campus. We learned very little about her. In fact, I never knew how or where they met. She may have been a student at Western though I am not sure. In any case, she was a few years older than Phil. He liked that she was older and he spoke of her fondly with a kind of protective admiration that seemed mysterious to me then. I remember that she didn't insist that he take her out on dates and that he felt relief that he didn't have to go through that conventional ritual with her. They spent intense periods of time with one another. Sometimes he would disappear from our Humboldt Street house for a few days at a time. This was unusual because during that first year we almost never ventured outside of our close circle alone. He said that she was interested in literature and that they would talk, drink wine, and prepare meals together, among other things. Jerry and I began to refer to her as "Belvedere", so when Philip would return after a night or so away from home we would ask "how's Belvedere?" He never got worked up over our kidding. He even took to using our moniker for her whenever he would announce that he was going over to see Belvedere.

One rainy night he called a cab from Belvedere’s place to take him home. He told the driver to drop him off about a block from our Humboldt Street house and then ditched the cabbie before settling up. This was becoming a fairly common practice among students living off-campus in 1970's Bellingham. The cabbie wasn't having it and he didn't give up easy. Phil ran down the street but couldn't shake the guy so he tore through some side yards to the alley that ran behind our house. He was huffing and puffing when he got to our back porch. Oh, and he was laughing that manic thrilled but slightly scared laugh.

Kevin Curran

Phil and the Paramount Plastics Lighters

Kevin Curran recently emailed me:

"Gianni, I have two jpegs of the orange/amber plexi lighter that Phil was trying to sell by the car trunk during our B'ham days. I hope that you can post them to the site. I should probably write something about them but I am drawing a blank. Any ideas?"

He told me it is the only thing of Phil's aside from letters he still possesses. He sent along a couple of photos...

As it turns out, when I first met Phil, he was hawking these plastic lighters. . .he had literally cases of them. He would sell them to you for a buck (I think it was) and you could easily sell them again for $2.50 or $3. I bought a bunch from him, sold them, and then bought more. . .but I had saturated my market. No one I knew needed another Paramount Plastics lighter. Over the years, the couple dozen I had drifted away. And now, Kevin turns up with one he got from Phil. And it sounds like Phil was still trying to unload them at college four or five years later!

I'm sure the K sisters can fill in this part of the story--but I vaguely remember this. Phil's dad designed, or bought the design, for a lucite lighter. This was probably about 1968. Lucite was still a mysterious and kind of weird material. The lighters looked cool. . .you could see the entire works inside. I seem to recall, however, they weren't exactly stellar performers in the flamethrowing arena. They emitted a pretty anemic little flare of light, and since they had no chimney, the faintest riffle of a wind would blow it out. But they made up for all that in cool.

Unfortunately, I believe the lighter was a commercial flop (?), and lord knows how many were left in boxes or crates at Paramount Plastics. In any case, for a period of at least five years, I remember Phil having tons of these around. After I hadn't thought about them for thirty years, here they are once again. I wouldn't be surprised if someone in the family doesn't have a box or two squirreled away somewhere. . .

---o0o---

Remembering Phil Kendall
by Jann Placentia

I remember:

I accompanied Phil many times after school in the spring of our senior year in high school, when he’d play a few holes of golf. One time, he hit a great shot that we knew had landed close to the green. We both searched and searched around the green but could not find the ball. At last, we gave up and looked in the cup --- and there it was, a Hole in One!

Phil would often call me late at night, filled with excitement, (I had my own personal phone line, so didn’t have to worry about disturbing the household) and read me his latest wonderful metaphor or poem.

Phil loved “Night Gallery “, “The Twilight Zone” and “A Clockwork Orange” – some of his stories reflected that fascination with sort of a “film noir/sci fi” essence.

Phil had a cool green Mustang for which someone he knew offered to trade him a cute, little, bright red Austin Healy Sprite. We had such fun zipping around in that Sprite, wearing our matching white racing hats --- I know it might sound silly or ridiculous from the vantage point of maturity, but the sight of us in those matching hats was amusing!

My brother, Chris, decided to enter a “Smoker” at his jr high and asked Phil to be his coach --- what an ironic thing: Phil was not a fighter, (neither was my brother) he was the guy everyone liked.

Phil was a wonderful person….I’m so blessed to have known him so well…..I miss him.

The one and only prank I ever pulled on Phil (it was for his own good)
by Claudia

Philip was getting ready to go to a party – by going through our mom’s medicine cabinet! I was astounded and thought I’d teach him a lesson. My mom at one time had back problems and was taking Soma for the pain. I’m sure that’s what he was looking for.

I took an empty prescription bottle and filled it with saccharin pills. Back then they came in pill form. I gave them to Phil and told him that Mom said they made her feel really good. “Okay,
great.”

The next morning, he just shook his finger at me – with a slight smile on his face. Then he proceeded to describe the experience of having saccharin dissolve in his mouth. He didn’t get mad. In fact, I don’t remember him ever getting angry with anyone. Only himself.

The day Phil saved our lives
by Claudia

Our family used to rent cabins at Lake Meridian before we moved to Kent. I was about six when the incident happened one summer day at the lake. I had been practicing jumping into the lake from the dock all afternoon. Our dad was enjoying the day from the shore and when I thought I could catch his attention, I yelled, "Watch!" and jumped in where the water was deep, just like I had been doing all day. But as soon as my head went under water, I realized I didn't have my life jacket on anymore. I frantically tried to keep myself from going under. Becky was swimming nearby and had seen me jump in, so she swam over to try to keep me afloat. She didn't have a life jacket on either, so all I did was pull her under. She remembers feeling like we were both going to drown.

Philip was also swimming nearby—but he was wearing his life jacket—and calmly paddled over to us and heroically saved both of us.



Phil was my hero. He was tough enough for me. It’s true, he was not a fighter. But he was no wimp either.

We were at a party – I don’t remember whose party it was, but it was in Kent -- before Phil went traveling. I remember my sister Beverly was there and Phil. I didn’t know anyone else. Bev and I were sitting on the couch in the living room and some guy came and sat between us. He was a stocky guy. Bev got up and sat down on a chair next to the couch. I tried to stand up and this bonehead grabbed me by the waist of my jeans and pulled me back down. I looked at Bev and said, “Get Philip!” Beverly left the room to find Phil while I tried to fight this guy off. I looked around the room and everyone was in polite conversation, so screaming seemed inappropriate. I was a quiet person, and I didn't like drawing attention to myself. Besides, I knew help was on the way.

It didn’t take long for Phil to show up to save me. He didn't say anything; he just took my hand and pulled me up while this guy again tried to pull me back down. Phil just kept pulling me up until I was able to get loose. The guy said to Phil, “She wants it,” to which Phil said adamantly, “No. She doesn’t.” It didn’t matter that this guy was bigger and seemingly stronger. I knew Phil wasn’t a fighter, but he could talk his way out of most situations. I walked a few steps away while he talked to the guy. I’m not sure what he said to him, but he was able to avoid a fight.

The next morning, at the family home in Kent, Phil matter-of-factly announced, “I had to save Claudia last night.” Once again.