Albuquerque Journal from Albuquerque, New Mexico • Page 33

BEST S8 TRENDS Sunday, May 18, 1986 Albuquerque Journal Page 1, Section I -v. in, JOURNAL ILLUSTRATION RUSS BALL A-C rx A Super Stunt To Help the Nation's Needy By Bob Groves near downtown. On a 6-foot square platform 50 feet in the air, the 27-year-old KGAK-AM Radio deejay began a 24-hour, non-stop Hands Across America marathon at dusk in a stiff breeze. A group of citizens gathered around the pole for an all-night vigil as Crazy Ronnie alternated country western and rock 'n' roll records, took phone calls and carried on CB conversations with truckers. By dawn, 50 mile-an-hour winds forced Crazy Ronnie to finish the show's last 11 hours on the ground.

"The town is going to leave the pole there until it blows down or somebody comes out with a chain saw," Crazy Ronnie said later. "They've named it 'the Gallup "Pete" Hoover, who spends most of his time helping medical researchers fill out application forms for grants, is also a certified Red Cross disaster relief instructor, a motorcycle enthusiast (he owns four) and a ham radio operator. A big fan of New Mexico, Hoover accepted the invitation of other hams here to drive a trailerload of high frequency radio gear to Glen-rio to help out. In the midst of Hands Across America, singer Kenny Rogers, who is appearing for the cause at the Texas border, will speak to his fans over Hoover's radio hook-up. Rogers will shake hands across the border with country singer Lee Greenwood, then pay a visit to an Americans for America party one of several being held in the state in San Jon, N.M.

(Actor Don Johnson of TV's "Miami Vice" is rumored to appear in Gallup.) Beneath the hoopla, however, Hands Across America officials have been quoting a steady stream of sobering statistics, such as those from a nation-wide Hunger Watch USA survey showing that private and voluntary emergency food pro- Anticipated 500,000 To Stretch Facilities JOURNAL FEATURES WHITER Last weekend in Gallup, a disc jockey named Crazy Ronnie Twist spent all night in a wind storm broadcasting a benefit show for Hands Across America from high atop a swaying telephone pole. "I'm into publicity stunts for good causes," said Crazy Ronnie. Next weekend, Herbert Hoover III of Los Angeles will drive a rented 32-foot mobile home loaded with ham radio equipment to Glen-rio on the New Mexico-Texas border so that singer Kenny Rogers can address the entire country as Hands Across America comes to a climax. "I probably should have my head examined," Hoover said with a laugh from Los Angeles earlier this week. "But I've done a number of public service projects and I've got the equipment.

Given the paucity of amateur radio operators in New Mexico, I figured they needed the help." Hands Across America is attempting to recruit six million people to hold hands at 1 p.m. May 25 from New York to Los Angeles via Chicago across 4,152 miles and 16 states, including New Mexico. The goal is to raise $100 million for this nation's hungry and homeless through pledges of $10 to $35 for each hand holder. The coast-to-coast fund-raiser that will try to unite the nation for a few brief moments is still a week away. But it is already symbolically uniting people as wildly diverse as Crazy Ronnie who does truly crazy things such as sitting inside the "bull barrel" at Lions Club rodeos and Herbert "Pete" Hoover grandson of the late president and head of the Hoover Foundation.

Crazy Ronnie and Herbert Hoover III are indirectly joining hands in a cause that could turn out be the greatest all-American yahoo charity super stunt since the home front effort of World War II. A week ago, the city of Gallup erected a genuine, creosote-soaked telephone pole in the middle of Miymura Park, a rest area on 1-40 grams served an average of 16.25 percent more people per month in 1985 than in the previous year. The New York State Committee Against Hunger reported that in 1985, 2.8 million New Yorkers (16 percent of the state's total population) were living below the poverty level. Hands Across America officials claim other figures show that 10 to 20 million Americans go hungry some time each month; that up to 2.5 million Americans are homeless; and that one out of five American children lives in poverty. In New Mexico, almost a half million people about 1,320 per mile are needed to line up along the 373 miles of 1-40 (and Central Avenue through downtown Albuquerque), from Tucumcari to Gallup.

The state effort is being coordinated locally at 2625 Pennsylvania NE, with branch offices in Tucumcari, Santa Fe, Gallup, Santa Rosa, Alamogordo, Las Cruces, Ros-well and, in a coordinating capacity, El Paso. Some of the other inspired souls signing up for the Land of Enchantment leg include Marianne Turonek and Rob Armijo, who are getting married next Saturday and have cajoled their 25-member wedding party to stand in line between Utah and Vermont streets on Central. Albuquerque contractor Scott Appleman has organized 40 balloon-ists, who will tether their craft along Central between Unser Boulevard and 98th Street. "We hope to hand over a check to Hands Across America for anywhere from $3,000 to $5,000," Appleman said. The Isleta Pueblo has pledged to buy a mile's worth of 1-40 through Tijeras Canyon where they will stage a Buffalo Dance.

The town of Espanola has committed half its population to fill two miles, while Mayor Richard Lucero personally cooks up a free breakfast and barbecue for participants. Meanwhile, Gallup is girding itself for anywhere from 60,000 to 200,000 American and Canadian Indians at next weekend's three-day Gallup Intertribal Pow Wow Association gathering in Redrock State Park. The big pow wow will wind up with its own Native Hands Across America link-up with the main event. i- f'ri v- ii By Bob Groves lities to the public. Meanwhile, the City of Grants is renting 200 Porta-Johns from a company in Michigan in anticipation of thousands of American and Canadian Indians attending the three-day Intertribal Pow Wow in Redrock State Park.

The toilets, plus the crews to maintain them, will cost $12,500, according to Gallup city manager Dan Dible. Since Redrock has a capacity, Gallup will be opening nearby areas to accommodate an additional 44,000 campers, Dible said. The city is also lining up tanker trucks to bring in fresh water. "We don't know how many people we're going to get. We'd rather over-plan than underpin," Dible said.

For people in line, Hands Across America will have available half-pint cartons of water trucked in from Tulsa and distributed at key points. "We're doing everything we can to make this a safe event," said Lt. F.M. "Jim" Arrington of MORE: See ANTICIPATED on PAGE D6 JOURNAL FEATURES WRITER How will New Mexico service the needs of a potential half million citizens lined up and holding hands along the shoulders of its busiest highway? Who will protect them from traffic or maybe from each other? Administer first aid if they need it? Provide them with food and drink? Get them in touch with lost loved ones? Or find them bathrooms? This last item put local Hands Across America officials in a particular quandry. Their plan is to have four portable toilets at each of the 36 interchanges along the 373 miles of 1-40 across New Mexico, or 144 units.

So far, Hands officials have procured 88 units from New Mexico Chemical Corp. of Albuquerque as well as a 10-seater Olympic trailer and another 25 portables from the City of Grants, for a total of 123 units. This leaves them 21 toilets short. Officials, however, are hoping that merchants in each municipality will open their faci MORE: See HANDS on PAGE D6 xrpA Li' hi 4 J' 1 v. 3 I NOTHER NATIONAL Football League draft has passed.

And still no Ed Elder. I have searched through the gunsceme fullback. There were stories of a massive new kid who had turned up at a Denver high school the high school that had finished in last place the previous 10 years. The high school that was considering dropping its football program. The high school that would, with the help of this new fullback, post its first winning season in more than a decade.

I like to think Ed Elder went to college on a football scholarship. That he graduated, with a degree in business, and went into management. He obviously never became a professional football player. I hope that is because he selected another career. Probably, though, the rest of the world grew up around him.

Steve Hallock brought up another linebacker or safety to help knock this massive running back to the ground. And on the seventh play, the quarterback faked to Ed Elder up the middle; Ed Elder carried 11 players, swarming over him like red ants on raw meat, toward the sideline; the quarterback flipped a 10-yard pass to the wide receiver, who trotted the remaining yards into the end zone. All the while, the head football coach of Jefferson High School, which was fed by Belmont Junior High, sat in the stands. One more year, and Ed Elder was his. He salivated.

He was Midas, counting gold he had yet to obtain. But as quietly as he appeared, Ed Elder was gone when we reported to high school the next year. The quiet of the school day was broken by the sad wail of the football coach, who roamed the halls after school for a full week, seeking a tall, curly-haired I lunged; too late. The next sensation was the taste of human flesh and blood in my mouth, as my helmet flew into the sky and my teeth entered the knee that Ed Elder was lifting into my jaw. Followed by the feel of the cool, soft sod against my face, the slight tremble of the earth as Ed Elder carried a swarm of tiny football players toward the goal posts like Gulliver towing mobs of protesting Lilliputians behind him.

We knew, that first practice, this stranger was our saviour. The new kid, who had arrived at our school just that fall, would lead Belmont Junior High out of the land of the doormat. The Panthers, clad in their black and white uniforms, would roar. Here is how we scored an average of five touchdowns per game on our march to the county championship: Ed Elder carried the ball six times in a row. After each carry, the opposing coach small, agate type in the newspaper, which lists the hundreds of college football players selected by professional football teams.

I have perused the list for lo, 15 years. This year, I sought the name of Ed Elder for the last time. You would think some NFL team would have selected this curly-haired, muscle-bound kid years ago. Houston? Indianapolis? Some team that desperately needed rescuing. The way he saved the Belmont Junior High Panthers 20 years ago.

We knew Ed Elder was special when we gathered after school on a gray, windy day for our first practice. The man you can't call a 6-foot-2, 190-pound junior high schooler a boy towered above the rest of us, a powerful Sequoia among seedlings. I have one vivid memory of Ed Elder. Here it is in a slo-mo, two-decade replay: The quarterback took the snap and spun around. He placed the football into Ed Elder's rock of a belly.

The defensive lineman in front of me fell to his knees, faced Mecca, and prayed. He was a Catholic. I saw two tree trunks wearing black, cleated shoes, coming at me. Ed Elder's feet spit smoke behind him as he churned, his head down, puffing like an angry bull. This, the coach had said, is where men become separated from boys.

This, I thought as Ed Elder charged me, the end zone gleaming in his eyes, is where shoulders become separated from bodies. Steve Hallock is the Journal features editor..