It happens to us all. Everyday. We pass people unmindful as to who or what they are. Of course it would be impossible to stop and investigate each one. But recently I did. I was in Shopko looking at blankets. Two feet away was an old man scrutinizing bedspreads. Suddenly he turned to me. He wasn’t sure, he explained, which size he needed. I, liking nothing more than assisting people in need, was on this mission faster than a fly on a ham sandwich!

I turned to him and to my delight saw an elderly gentleman so perfectly groomed that no errant rogue whisker would have dared appear. His eyes, shockingly bright and clear, glowed as if an LED bulb was behind them; and his face was easy, unguarded and without a hint of suspicion or hesitancy. He radiated confidence, intelligence and complete trust. I was instantly smitten.

By now, and after capturing my complete attention, I needed to know him. Why wait? So, before he drove his car out of the parking lot, we made a plan to meet. Four days later, I was walking toward his Austin Courtyards’ apartment. Greeting me with a Pepsodent smile so dazzling it could challenge a Hollywood idol, he ushered me inside. I couldn’t help noting how trim he was; how easily and smoothly he moved without the need of any assistance and how I immediately felt comfortable in his comfortable home. On every surface were framed photos and stacks of picture albums making it obvious he was a man who loved … and was loved.

It soon became clear that our fortuitous meeting was meant to be for there were too many coincidences to make it otherwise. We shared the same birthday, same name, same church, same Scottish heritage, same old friends and places — even a rare (long ago healed) medical condition.

Gene Clennon was born in Austin on July 21, 1923. Yes, he is 93 years old! His story is one of hard decisions and dedicated fortitude. When he was only five his mother died in childbirth. Sadly he retains only one memory of her. She is protectively bending over him after he had broken his arm in their wringer washing machine and staying to comfort him until the doctor arrived at their house to set the bone.

Following that tragic event, little Gene clung to his father with a tight unbreakable bond. At first his older sister took over her siblings’ care. Although relatives insisted the children be divided and farmed out to them, she adamantly refused to allow it. Gene stills adores his devoted and loving sister, calling Marian his “guiding light.” She is now 95, an Alzheimer’s patient who no longer recognizes Gene.

Soon, thereafter, his grandmother arrived and for the next three years this stern woman who in no way was charmed by Gene’s independent ways, took over.

Once, when pushed to exasperation, she chased him out to the barn with a broom where he was commanded to contemplate his uncooperative ways. Later when Gene was in fourth grade, his father married a recently widowed friend, an ill-fated, regrettable decision in which his new wife had little affection for a young boy who wasn’t her own.

During the Depression, Gene’s father had the good fortune of being employed at Hormel’s. Thus the family lived reasonably well. In those desperate times, the Clennons could have even been described as rich. Even so, it had always been his dad’s dream to own a farm, so he bought an eighty acre spread near Blooming Prairie. Gene holds only bad memories of living there. He slept in a frigid unfinished attic where he could see the long frost-covered shafts of every single nail that held down the shingles. There was also no electricity so Gene, always a tinkerer, made a light out of an old flashlight and some batteries from a crank telephone so he could see his way up the stairs.

On the farm, Gene’s job was to milk five cows before sunrise then walk a mile and a half to a one-room school house. So that his little sister could also attend, he built a sled with a box on it which was pulled by his dog Rex who trotted along the only path, one made by horses and sleighs. The teacher allowed Rex to stay in the coal shed during the winter, but banded him during the warm months.

His father’s dream lasted only eighteen months before he sold the farm — much to Gene’s delight — and moved the family back to a home in Crane Addition. In their small two and a half block area lived eighty children! While there Gene well remembers watching with fascination as the Roosevelt Bridge was built. He also remembers his father’s generosity to the transient tramps who trailed through Austin, always giving them a hot meal. He saw gypsies, as well, travelling through and making trinkets out of willow branches to sell. Gene was frightened of them as it was rumored that gypsies stole little children. Little children just like him!

When Gene was sixteen, his father (the only person in the world who truly cared about him), was tragically killed in an auto accident outside of Austin. A devastated Gene was suddenly on his own, a terrifying time in which he is convinced he would not have survived had he not had the constant companionship of Rex.

With little life insurance to sustain the family, Gene had to help support his brother, two sisters and the four additional half siblings who had been born into the blended family. So, taking on whatever job was available to a sixteen year old, he began by selling the Saturday Evening Post and Ladies Home Journal door to door. He also worked at the Royal Cleaners (two doors down from the old State Theatre) where he had two jobs: cleaning out the seeds and grass from the men’s trouser cuffs and working as the sole shoe shine boy.

By then it was 1939, the end of the Great Depression. Life was beginning to improve for the Hormel workers who on weekends liked to live it up at the Rainbow Dance Hall. This meant that shoes, soiled from the men’s messy plant jobs, needed to be shined. Gene performed this task for fifteen-cents an hour, seldom receiving tips although one customer routinely brought him jelly beans, a candy he detested. Additionally he had a Minneapolis Star Tribune paper route. It started at Klagges and he rode a bicycle which his father had purchased for only $3 some years before because it had no fenders. This was how Gene spent his free time when he was a 9th grader in Austin High.

To my delight, Gene vividly remembers my grandfather’s store, The Square Deal Grocery. He recalls its high ceilings and marble tiled floors, but more importantly his strongest and warmest memory is of the butchers who saved meat scraps for Rex. The dog could not come into the store, but obediently waited at the front door knowing Gene would return with treats. With little food at home to share with a dog, this was a kindness Gene has never forgotten.

In 1941, Gene became a member of the first AHS wrestling team. The next year, as a senior, he took first place in the 132-pound division. That same year he was also the first student ever hired to work as a clerk in the Hormel office, rearranging his classes so he could report for work at noon.

Throughout his young life, Gene never forgot his father’s most fervent wish for him, an oft repeated longing for Gene to graduate. Thus in spite of being a poor reader and having to work virtually everyday, Gene struggled to see it through. He remembers, even now with a visible sadness, that though he was the first one in his family to complete a high school education, there wasn’t a single person at the ceremony who came to congratulate him.

After graduation and with a strong interest in mechanics, Gene enlisted in the Navy Air Corp. There he became a cadet pilot flying in the single engine “Cub,” a flimsy plane the sailors referred to as the “Maytag Messerschmitt.” He was later transferred to the West Coast and helped to set up a new division where he made specialty devices. During this time he married Lou Ann, his beautiful childhood sweetheart, and they had three sons.

Back in Austin after his discharge in 1945, he happened to see some men carrying a vending machine out of the Royal Bar. Without hesitation Gene asked if it needed repairing. It did. He surprised them — and himself! — by boldly telling them he could do it. And with that Gene entered the world of selling and servicing vending machines. He borrowed $2000 and after witnessing a shooting star one evening, decided to name his new business the Star Amusement Company.

Over time Gene became the owner/distributor of the biggest vending and music machine operation in southern Minnesota. It required long hours of hard work, but his labors paid off. He became a self made millionaire. One of his most satisfying memories is of the day he met (and was remembered by) one of his former shoe shine customers!

In 1978 he purchased Echo Lane Bowling Alley. A short time later a woman accidentally drove her car into a wall shifting the lanes into unusable angles. Restoring the damage only reinforced his dissatisfaction with the business and within five years he sold it.

After his first marriage dissolved, Gene married again. He and Donna (a woman he describes as so friendly she could stand next to a tree and within moments make it her friend) enjoyed traveling the world and wintering in their two homes in Acapulco. Their life together was charmed until Donna died in 2012.

Gene is a man you should know. He has led an impressive and fruitful life by surrounding himself with good and intelligent people. By all measures he, at 93, remains dynamic, handsome and healthy although he tells me that during the last month he has suddenly felt himself declining. This is in no way evident to me for I cannot make any comparisons. I’ve only known Gene for a week. If, however, this is true, I can assure you that from July of 1923 up until November of 2016, he must surely have been a stick of dynamite!
Peggy Keener of Austin is the author of two books: “Potato In A Rice Bowl” and “Wondahful Mammaries.” Peggy Keener invites readers to share their memories with her by emailing maggiemamm16@gmail.com. Memories shared with Keener may be shared or referenced in subsequent editions of “Full Circle.”