The story you are about to read is true. It began in nineteen-forty-seven with a newborn susceptible to the vagaries of disease. By three, he had suffered through the mumps, measles and the dreaded whooping cough and scarlet fever. He attributes those early days to his stunted growth, whereas at fourteen, he began to spurt from five foot one to six foot three but hardly weighing ten stones. Skinny as a sapling tree, his life was a constant battle of harassment, being the runt of the class. He wanted so badly for it to end.

It did on June 12th, nineteen sixty-five, where upon graduation, he packed a bag and headed to the armed forces the next day.

Boot camp was a continuance of the torment experienced during his four years in an all-boys Catholic high school, but there was purpose in such madness. With three meals a day and exercise, he weighed another thirty pounds upon debarkation to weather school and the opportunity to be all he could be as an Aerographer Mate.

He excelled for the first time in school, nearly finishing first in his class, but more than that, he found a man who commanded him to be in the gym at four p.m. His name was Dorniece Butler, an AG chief. When asked why he simply said, "young man, you are on my basketball team."
The lad had grown to six-foot-three and had not yet turned eighteen. He responded, "Chief, I don't play the game, " only to be told, "you do now."

In the Navy, one obeys orders, and thus that afternoon, a new life began as the youngster ran around like a recently birthed colt, long of legs and precariously unstable. He couldn't shoot, could barely run, and certainly not while trying to dribble a basketball. Still, the patience shown was incredibly delightful. The chief turned coach only pointed out the lad's one attribute. The new kid jumped exceptionally well.

Day after day, weeks passed by, and each day the boy was schooled to do one thing. Get on the blocks, jargon for the low post, squat to gain a position, and then as you catch the ball, take one step in either direction, rise from the floor, and lay it in. Simply spoken, the boy thought he could but didn't very well to begin. With time, he found it was becoming easier, and when he missed, the carom fell back in his hands. He was a rebounding dynamo.

From that auspicious beginning, the young man grew stronger and taller and had an edge, floating above the competition.

After graduating, orders sent the boy to Norfolk, where his cager skills had improved to where he was named captain of the ship's b-ball team. He took to leadership like a fish to water on the court and became fluid in motion and skill. Together, those talents led the Cruiser-destroyer league in scoring at twenty one points per game with double-digit rebounds.

Tournament playoffs were soon to begin when the USS Wright departed port, leaving their hoopsters behind, save for the team captain, who was ordered to stay on-station as the ship set sail towards the VaCapes.

The next day, away from the sight of land, the sailor was on deck releasing a radiosonde when the four-striped skipper came along asking why he was here when his team was there competing for a championship?

"Orders, sir," the seaman spoke. Then, after explaining how the division head decided his assignment to the weather department was more important, the captain said, "Son, go pack your duffle and return to the flight deck in a hustle," saying he would square things with Commander Hughlett.

Moments later, a Marine helicopter lifted off, flying the boy back to port, where they indeed won the gold. Later that year, Captain White was promoted to admiral.

The following year was similar, though at a different command, as he was transferred to Andrews AFB. There, the man led an intramural team to a championship which became the catalyst for being invited to play for the base team in regional competition with other bases and colleges.

Time flies forward. He left his enlistment for a short while, attending school at Mercer Community college where Coach Howie Landa had won a national championship.
It lasted only weeks when riots broke out and the season ended in doubt,before it began.
He decided to re-enlist at the Philadelphia Navy Yard in January nineteen-sixty nine and was assigned to play for the District Four team in the hunt for the Mid-Atlantic region championship, which they won. That victory earned the team further play in the East coast finals in Newport, R.I.
Though the team fell short, he was chosen for a spot on the All-tournament team but not invited to the Interservice competition.

Back in Philadelphia, his orders arrived with a ticket to the island of Guam, in the Pacific Ocean, where his basketball success continued. His teams won the intramural league, the Island league, and the InterBase championships. He was selected to his second all-Navy unit and was flown to Pearl Harbor to compete further, averaging double-doubles in points and rebounds.

After eighteen months, orders came to transfer to Fleet Weather Central, Norfolk. Shortly after, he was given "temporary assignment to duty" on the traveling squad for the amphibious base 'Gators,' at Little Creek, Va. There he played with characters such as "Batman, Mad Dog and Fish." He was tagged "Tree" as his arms were like limbs hanging everywhere.

This would be the highlight of his years playing ball. He was like a kangaroo, hopping through on-court traffic, skying for rebounds. He was to the ball as a magnet to steel.
The joy of playing ball six months each year was unimaginable. He did it for two years. In the off-season, he plotted and analyzed weather maps.

He lived a dream that didn't last, as his final duty station was in Coronado, Ca. His duty was to catch ships leaving the West coast for the Far East where he would rest for one to three weeks before returning to California on a returning vessel. Interesting but damning to playing ball. There aren't basketball goals on most ships.

Finally, at twenty-seven, he left the service for college and successfully set records for rebounds in a season and a career.

At twenty-nine, the sands of time ran out, and the bounce that led him to lead the league departed. His playing days officially ended, and after graduating joined a retail firm, being promoted three times in nine months, but with each new assignment came extended hours.
A change was needed, and found, as a salesman with Liberty Mutual.

Not to drag this story on, he aspired to be the best in his office, which he accomplished in his first year and the district before achieving the top spot in the state for fifteen years.

He was inducted in Liberty Mutual's Sales Hall of Fame in two-thousand. His presenter was Redskin QB Joe Theismann in the Valley of the Sun, Scottsdale, Arizona.

Whoever thought a skinny youngster from Manyunk, Pa. would go from the malnourished child in the Charles Atlas ad on the rear of a comic book to succeed in sports. None. Including himself.

The difference came with a coach who found a niche for a boy instead of finding fault, encouraging him to specialize in what he could do, not in what he couldn't. In time, other talents would blossom.

This story is my autobiography, and any success written of is due in large part to a Navy chief. I wish he could know the effect he had on me.