It was late April 1955 and spring had finally come to the high plains. I was suffering from a serious case of spring fever. Baseball season was already underway, my Brooklyn Dodgers were 10 and 0, and I was stuck in my seventh-grade English class conjugating verbs. I had lots of plans for the summer break, if it ever comes. When one of the cutest girls in my class invited me for a coke after school I was torn between being with her and listening to...