Bill Schlagel was born during a time when folks just stepped up and helped each other out. Be it neighbor or stranger, Dad never thought twice before offering up assistance. His generosity was especially on display when he was on the road. While Dad spent most of his life as a farmer and rancher, In his younger days he worked road construction with my Uncle Earl and later he bought a couple trucks and went to hauling hay and whatever else needed wheels under it. I went with Dad in the truck many times, not necessarily because I was any help, but mainly because he was lonely. In the days before cell phones, long drives could get pretty boring. So, what does a pathologically social man with an altruistic streak do when on the road? He picks up hitchhikers.
For sure Dad picked up those that were stranded or wandering out of the goodness of his heart, but there was a small part that was self-serving. Dad loved to talk and had a treasure trove of stories that he loved to tell. Like baseball? Dad could tell you about the time he and Ervin Herther went to the World Series. How about rodeo? Dad, Dick Reints, Darrel Griffith and Buss Tischer spent a couple wild years running between that and the National Cutting Finals. Whatever the topic, Dad had a story, all of them entertaining, most of them true. What better opportunity to regale a new ear with his tales? They were literally held captive by steel and wheels rolling at 70 mph. Don’t mind that the speed limit was a little less than that. Bill Schlagel’s right foot was a little bigger and heavier than the typical man.
While hitchhiking is no longer common given the unkind things that can happen to both hiker and driver, it was commonly seen in the 1970s and 80s. Plus, at 6’4″ and a solid, lean 250 pounds, Dad was an imposing figure. He was kind as a kitten, but the man just looked like he could handle himself in a rough crowd so no one challenged him. Those that rode with him were happy for a ride and when the assault was no more than a man that liked to tell stories and slightly off color jokes, they could kick back and relax. Heck. He’d even buy you supper.
During one visit to Las Vegas, Mom and Dad picked up Edith, a 20-something woman from Austria hitchhiking across the U.S., staying in hostels. My folks were worried about her so she stayed with them as they traveled to California and beyond. They dropped her off at the Grand Canyon and came home…worrying about Edith. Three months later I hopped off the school bus and there was Edith. Somehow, she’d made her way back to Bill and Mona Schlagel. We rode horses and a week later, Edith was off on the road again. We got Christmas cards from her and her lovely family for several years after that.
Friends of mine often remind me about “that time we woke up in the pickup and your dad had picked up a hitchhiker,” moments in time I had completely dismissed as they were normal for me. The fact that I wasn’t abducted never ceases to amaze me. One time, on the way to a 4H Rodeo, we picked up a motorcyclist stranded by the side of the road. After some discussion, Dad and this stranger loaded the motorcycle into the horse trailer, my beloved horse, Peanuts, snorting only slightly, as he too was used to Dad’s antics. We delivered the guy, black leathers and studs, to a mechanic in Pierre that Dad knew. Only Bill Schlagel would know someone to fix a motorcycle on a South Dakota Saturday evening in July.
Other hitchhikers didn’t fare so well. My cousin Terry tells of Dad picking up a fella with some long hair back in the “hippy” days. Dad asked why his hair was so long and dirty and the guy told of poverty and the lack of funds for a haircut. Dad, knowing the barber well in Clark, said he’d pay for the haircut and probably supper, as Dad really liked to eat. The guy started backtracking and got a little defensive, refusing the offer for the barber visit. In true Bill Schlagel fashion, Dad stopped the pick up, turned it around and took the poor guy back to where they’d picked him up. Truth be told, Dad didn’t really like MY long hair either.
My Dad was a character and everyday of his life could be an edition of Arena Tracks. I’ll visit a few of my experiences with him (driving out of the New Underwood arena with a horse still tied to the trailer, leaving my mom at a gas station and having the Highway Patrol run him down to deliver her back to the car, hauling a young woman diagnosed with polio to the hospital when no one else would come near her) later on.
I see memes on Facebook that say something to the effect of “Having a weird mom builds character.” For sure having Bill Schlagel as a father built my character simply because I had no idea what any single day might hold. I learned to think on my feet, always see the good in people and be ready for whatever came my way. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.