I had been coming through Reno since the the summer of 1988, when I wound up there during an impromptu motorcycle trip, and each time I had thought to myself "I should look up Uncle Dick." But I never had his contact info, and his name is a very common one.
Finally I decided enough was enough. I might not ever get the chance again, given his advanced age. So after emailing everyone around the family, and finally getting to speak to his sister in Nebraska, I got his phone number and address. His sister, my great-aunt, warned me that he didn't like surprises, however.
I called his cellphone number and said: "Uncle Dick?" and started to explain who I was, thinking he might not remember me. After thirty seconds I realized the phone was dead. So I called back again, and when he answered, I started talking again, only to realize the phone was dead again.
I concluded that he had hung up on me, and that maybe he didn't remember me, or want to talk to anyone. It made me quite sad for the next couple days.
On Friday I went into Reno to work from a coffee shop there, which was only a few blocks from his house. I had bought a card at Raley's and during a break in work I wrote out a friendly message in the card explaining who I was and leaving my phone number.
After finishing work I drove by his house. I parked in front and could see someone inside. I walked up and dropped the card in his mailbox and quickly drove off.
Before I even left Reno, my cell phone rang. I pulled over and answered it. It was Uncle Dick---he was very enthusiastic and happy to hear from me. Evidently the exchange on the phone had been because his phone battery was dead.
We arranged to meet early the next week before I left town. When I came back to his house, I received a very warm welcome. He was as exactly as fun and full-of-life as I remembered him from decades before. His wits were still very sharp.
We spent a marvelous afternoon together, talking about present times and old ones. Among other things he has done in his life, he was waist gunner in a B-17 in Italy during World War II, and flew 35 missions over the alps to Germany and Austria. He said that it was just like in Catch-22, where they kept upping the number you needed to fly before you got to go home.
He has lived in Reno since the mid 1950s, working most as a successful court reporter. He still reviews legal documents in his spare time for local judges, to keep my mind sharp. He told me some fun stories about his experiences from the days when Reno was the marriage and divorce capital of the U.S, and the courthouse in which he worked was one of the most famous buildings in the world.
I had once seen Reno featured in an old TravelTalks from the 1940s, called "Romantic Nevada," which showed recently divorced women kissing the pillar of the courthouse and throwing their wedding rings into the Truckee River. He said he never saw them kiss the courthouse, but that the ring-throwing actually did happen on a regular basis.
He also said he once got to meet Marilyn Monroe, when she was in town with Clark Gable making The Misfits (1960). They were shooting on the courthouse steps and he accidentally walked through the doors right onto the set without realizing it. Later he saw her waving from a hotel window.
It was such a short visit with him and over quickly. It made me wish I had been resolute in finding him years ago. But better late than too late, as they say. Gives me another reason to come back to Reno soon.
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