Ruler of the Queen's navy

[david]

He polished up the handle
so carefully
That now he is the ruler
of the Queen's navy

– HMS Pinafore

[/i]
Gilbert & Sullivan, 1874[/right] 



---

Mrs. Davis' first name was Joy. Of course I never knew that while in her sixth grade classroom at Franklin Elementary School in San Diego.

It was 1959: Alaska and Hawaii had just been admitted into the union; the U.S. had launched the first missile-bearing submarine; the Russians were in outer space; fallout shelters were under construction in neighborhoods across the nation; the first major battle between Viet Cong and South Vietnamese regulars took place in southeast Asia; and back in San Diego Mrs. Davis was casting HMS Pinafore.

I was a typical kid. Typical, but not average – oh, no, even then I was an outlier. I was what they now call a geek, a brainiac, a nerd.

I was always in the top reading group and received plenty of praise when it came to classroom skills; but I was consistently among the last to be chosen when teams were picked on the playground for kickball, softball and other physical contests.

My mother didn't help matters by giving me a “buzz” haircut. A few other boys had Elvis-style ducktails, some sported flattops like their dads, and most had at least enough fur to require periodic combing and a little dab or two of Brylcream, but I was ahead of my time with a tightly cropped hairdo in the fashion of President Obama – but 50 years before that style came into vogue.

The fact of the matter is the only thing that kept me from being the so-called “last guy” every time sides were chosen was my friend Richard.

Richard also had a buzz cut and he was actually even dorkier than I was. He was small, weak, uncoordinated and lacked basic skills like catching, throwing, hitting, running – he was only fair at walking and standing still.

Richard was my go-to guy when I needed to know that things could be worse. He was the guy I could look at with pity and declare, “well, at least I'm better than him.”

But in the classroom, the tables were turned. Richard and I were definitely the top two boys in Mrs. Davis' class, but it was also pretty clear that when it came to scholarly pursuits Richard was number one and I was the runner up.

He outdid me every time measurements were taken. He won the spelling bees, got top scores on quizzes and exams and occasionally came up with the right answer after I had given the wrong one. Nothing irritates a brainiac more than being corrected by another brainiac.

I got very little satisfaction being next-to-last compared to Richard's last-of-all status on the playground. I wanted to outdo my rival off the playground – inside the building where the grades were determined and the rubber hit the road.

At the end of the year, Richard and I competed for valedictorian honors. Predictably, he was named valedictorian and I got to give a second-tier address titled, “A Farewell to Franklin.”

But a bit earlier that spring, I had a chance to go head-to-head with my rival in a contest that was neither academic nor athletic.

Each year Mrs. Davis put on a musical production. For our class, she selected “H.M.S. Pinafore.” The operetta version we staged had a very uncommon attribute: the lead male was not required to sing a solo.

Since neither Richard nor I could carry a tune in a bucket, this was the only thing that could put us in position to try out for the part of Ralph Rackstraw, the ordinary sailor who turns out to be the hero of the story.

A sailor's hat would cover our buzz jobs and the chorus would drown out sour notes; so we both had a real shot at the role and soon engaged in studying lines and attempting to get a feel for Rackstraw.

The male and female leads were first to be cast and Joyce Dennstedt, the prettiest girl in class, was up for Josephine. That meant that the boy who played Ralph would be forever associated with the foxiest gal in sixth grade.

Well, believe it or not, I got the part. For some reason, Mrs. Davis liked my rendition of Ralph better than that offered by Richard. I beat my nemesis and got top billing.

Richard managed to upstage me, though, by convincing Mrs. Davis that the role of Sir Joseph Porter could be played in the style Rex Harrison used in My Fair Lady.

Richard auditioned for that part and didn't sing a note – he merely spoke the lyrics in rhythm to the music. And he knocked Mrs Davis' socks off with that portrayal, capturing a prize role in the production.

In fact, as an admiral, Richard had a much more ornate costume than I did, including an amazing triangular hat.

But, as I may have mentioned before, I got the girl.

And you can put that in your valedictorian pipe and smoke it, Richard.