Fifty-eight years and four months ago I stood before a summer school assembly in the old auditorium and spoke on "How to Stay Out of War." Apparently I wasn't very effective. Five years later German armies were rolling across the Polish plains and ravaging the Soviet Union, unleashing six years of bloody horror. But subsequent history later shows that the trio of foreign rulers who refused to listen to the 17-year-old kid at Lakewood High School died the most miserable of deaths.
That assembly talk was an example of Seymour Slater, English teacher, journalism teacher and High Times advisor, picking the most bashful fellow of his class to speak before a high school audience because Mr. Slater knew it would be a means of adding growth to Harold Gilbert.
Mr. Slater taught, instilled and inspired legions of his students. I've had teachers who taught by rote and teachers who taught by creativity and inspiration. Mr. Slater heads the list of the later.
So many of his students rose to the heights of fine writing. Richard Murway, on the program tonight, was one of his most respected. I know because Mr. Slater told me so several times. Others, James Maher, Neil Chamberlain, Herbert Gold, three of his Times editors, have had over 25 books published, two of them respectfully dedicated to Mr. Slater.
Harold, tempered by the depression years, turned to advertising, printing and publishing, although during World War II edited and produced the small division newspaper of the 20th Air Force Guam Air Depot.
Should you ask me what I learned from Mr. Slater, I would be hard put to recite a litany of writing commandments. I know high standards would head the list.
The significance of Mr. Slater in my life is not connected with writing, but with living. It results in a story, sort of an allegory: One day Mr. Slater pushed off his chair, threaded through the classroom desks, back to the copy table, held out his hand and invited, "Harold, come with me." We left Room 136, down the hall, through the creaking wooden passageway that then connected what we called the Men's Building, to the main hall. Stopping in front of the auditorium fountain, we turned left, down the steps and through the main building front entrance.
Mr. Slater stood quietly for a moment then he waved and began: "Harold, that is a great world out there." He paused, looked at me intently and slowly said, "You have the power--You have the ability--to make it better. GO TO IT!"
Will you join me tonight in a continuing tribute (the word "continuing" in printer's terms is set in bold face italics, one point baker rule underlining and printed in red ink) a continuing tribute to Mr. Slater?
Figuratively, I'd like to take you back to the auditorium, down the steps, out the front doors.
In front of the building I'd like to point to the East, explaining in religion and mythology the East is the source of all power.
From the East springs the dawn, the rising sun as a prelude to a new day. And Carpe Diem -- our high school motto, is -- "Seize the Day!" Each new day is packed with 24 solid hours of opportunity. And as I widen the arc of my wave, I'd repeat those so-important words I heard 58 years ago: "That is a great world out there. You have the power -- You have the ability -- to make it better. GO TO IT!"
November 12, 1992
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