Jack Ecton Carver

What are memories???  If not real feelings, imagined and embellished???

Jack Carver was a name I had only heard of as a hot shot film guy from Denver that was shooting for the same client I shot for.  He seemed to have more clout than a hometown boy in North Dakota.  After all I had only made one film for our mutual client and shot a lot of annual report stuff (and ads).  I didn't know that this Carver guy was asking the same questions.  Why the hometown boy when they could have big Denver.  After all, it was more fun to meet in Denver over the cool pooltable than in cold, hickish Bismarck.  Well, on one not so cold day in th mid 1970's, I was minding my own business at the local country club, commiserating over the last nine holes, when the VP of marketing we worked for asked me over to his table.  He wasted no time.  He said "Rikki, this is Jack Carver from Denver".  And Then, "Jack, this is Rikki Thompson from here", (Bismarck, if you forgot all ready).  John then added, "you two have a drink and figure out what you are going to do about trying to get my attention and my account, and stop pitching..."  One drink we discovered was never going to be enough.  In the nervous but loosening conversation I commented on his nice boots.  I asked him if he golfed in those.  He retorted that he certainly did not, but they were new because he had cut his favorite boot tip off with his lawn mower.  We were fastly becoming aware of each other's weakspots, and a growing suspician of each other that would keep us together for more than a quarter cenury.

Edit to a little later...

What we discovered as time went on was disturbing to say the least.  I found out Jack liked control and he found out I was unpredictable.  He liked to direct and I liked to frame and push the release.  On one occasion, after the third time leaning over my shoulder and giving me direction, he realized I was already doing what he offered as a camera move..  Nuff said.  Oh. he continued to pretend to have control and I accepted it to look good to the clients.

Fast foward...

Too fast, for we are now here in the present.  With all the places and adventures in-between, we all have lost some of his direction, some will remain.  In the in-betweem Bonnie and Jack brought me out into the bigger pictue (sorry, I had to).  They put me up after exhausting trips from Bismarck, Minneapolis, Fargo, Phoenix, Minneapolis again, Kenosha, Milwaukee and on and on.  I have no desire to drive I-80 in this present time...  Again...  But for one more visit with Jack I would make an exception...  To say we influenced each other would be to put it mildly and you all know what I mean.  Of course Jack would put all the influencing in his colume and I being the agreeable sort would defer.  I like to to think that Jack might write this memory from a differnt viewpoint.  His story would be how tough he had to be to overcome his often too loose crew and his less than wise clients and the cop who pulled him over in New Mexico in the 911 Porsche that I sold him.  I choose to remember the education, the mostly noteable people we crossed paths with, the meal at the King Ranch , the comradery, the saving of my life from certain death in his and Bonnie's whirlpool, and the best thing Bonnie and Jack did for me, other than freeing me from Bismarck, was too introduce me to the best, most beautiful, most wonderful person ever.  My wife and best friend, even before Jack, Kathy.

Thanks Jack (and Bonnie) for the script... 

As I recall, Jack got my phone number from Maryann Mohan, a tennis-playing friend, who had been on some of the teams that I captained over the years.  Maryann and Bonnie, Jack's wife, were good friends who taught at the same elementary school in Golden.  Maryann had told Jack to call me to see about becoming a member of my team.  That was probably in 1993 or 1994.  That began a beautiful friendship as we became tennis partners and participated in many different leagues and tournaments over the next several years.  Jack and Maryann also became partners in our mixed doubles leagues.  We had some good teams that went to playoffs both locally and also to Colorado Springs, Ft. Collins, Boise and Tucson.  Jack and I also were partners in a lot of tournaments in Colorado and had some great times and good results.  Then as we got older and started slowing down we realized that we couldn't keep up with other players that were sometimes 20 to 30 years younger.  Jack and I were basically the same age - he was two months older.  We had some great times playing together and traveling to the various sites and talking about our families and how we got to where we were.  I will forever cherish the great memories.  Thank you, Jack, for being such a good friend.  Rest your soul in peace. 
Bonnie, you were always a very loving and supporting wife and Jack was very proud of you.

Second weddings are awkward at best, but third weddings are impossible to arrange.  Or so it seemed to us.  There were broken dreams, confused children, thoughts of only "cautious optimism."  We wished someone would just come to the door and ask us to "sign here."  We waited.  That was not happening.

Maybe we could take baby steps: just get the marriage license and see how it "goes."  No pressure.  So on December 1, 1975, Jack picked me up after work at Mitchell Elementary school. We made the short drive to the Jeffco Courthouse.  Not time enough to change our minds.  After all, we were just getting the license.   

We signed the forms.  Not too scary.  Yet.  But then we asked the fateful question:  What next?  How did we arrange for a judge to actually marry us?  How did we make an appointment in the future?  The clerk behind the counter said, half joking, "Well, you could just walk down the hall to see if any judge is available right now."  That was not the answer we expected but now that we had received it, we looked at one another.  Could we?  What would be the chances a judge was free on a Friday afternoon?  None. 

Then, at the first office we stopped, the receptionist said, "Take a seat.  Judge Nieto will be with you momentarily."  Uh oh.  We sat down and watched a few other couples walk in.  They had the usual stuff: a dress, flowers, friends.  I, on the other hand, was wearing jeans and a tee that proudly announced:  I Am A Mitchell Mustang.  It was, after all, casual Friday at school.  Instead of polish I sported green vis-a-vis marker all over my fingers.  Who can forget the era of overhead projectors?  Jack was about 5 days into growing his beard so he looked like he had been on a 3 day bender.  We waited silently.  Finally Jack said, "Are we supposed to tip him for this? "  I answered quickly, "No!  He is a public service on the job till 5 PM."  At that point the receptionist walked over and handed us an envelope.  "This is for the judge's gratuity," she said.  And that was the one and only time I was ever wrong.

In his chambers the judge asked. "Do you have a witness?"  No.  So he asked his clerk to come in.  "Do you have a ring?"  No.  "Have you thought about this step?  This is not a religious sacrament, but it is none the less binding, you know."  "We know," Jack answered,  "but we tried it the other way before."  The witness-clerk looked out the window at the start of a quiet December snowfall and said, "I always cry at weddings."

When we arrived at my house, I said to my two middle-school boys, "Guess what Jack and I did today?"  They answered excitedly, "Bought a CAR!"  "No, we got married."  No way!  They didn't know you could do it without a big party, toasts, cake.
We did go out for a romantic private dinner and when we returned home the kids had tee-peed the inside of the house.  A nice celebratory touch.

The next day we took all four kids skiing.  Thus, the unexpected, unconventional "wedding" was perfect for us.  I remember that before we left the courthouse Judge Nieto said, "I hope it takes," like we had been vaccinated.  Now, all these years later, I know it "took."  It was the best decision I ever made! 

---

 

Jack was a wonderful father to me and Brian, and a wonderful husband to our mom.

One of my favorite childhoold memories with Jack... and now  today one of my favorite storeis to share with my own boys ... is about the time I was 10 years old and launched an Estes model rocket inside the house.  Luckily, I was not the one with my finger on the "trigger" when it happened ... that would be Jack.

It all happened when I walked into the house frustrated and angry because I had just spent the last hour outside trying to launch my latest Estes rocket.  I had done this successfully many times before, but this time, it just wouldn't launch.  I came inside -- carrying the rocket, launch pad, launcher remote, instructions, and all the other accessories required for flight -- feeling completely defeated.  Jack saw the look on my face and asked me what was wrong.  I told him how this stupid rocket that I had spent hours building and painting, didn't work.  He stopped what he was doing and said, "Well, let's see if we can't figure out what's wrong."

Step by step, he took the time to look over the instructions with me and make sure I had done everything correctly. 

"What's the next step?" he would say.  

"Connect the igniter fuze" I replied. 

"Check!" said Jack.  "Next?'

I walked him through each step.  I read while he verified and made adjustments with the rocket standing on the middle of the dining room table. 

"Insert the safety key" I said.

"Check."

"Turn the key and wait for a green light"  I said.

"Check."

"Push the launch button."

But Jack didn't have to say check on that step.  Fire and smoke shot out from the rocket as it lauched straight up, hit the ceiling, circled all over leaving a black char mark everywhere, and then finally landed in an upstairs loft room and smolder on the carpet. 

When the smoke cleared, there was Jack holding the launcher and both of us looking at each other with a face that said, "You are in so much trouble when Mom gets home!"

Now, Marcus and Daniel always ask me to tell that story about Grandpa Jack and the rocket.  They never get tired of hearing it.  Just a couple of months ago, I took them to the park and launched a real Estes rocket for them -- OUTDOORS!  We sent the video to Jack and told him thanks for taking the fall 35 years ago so that I could be here today to share it with my boys.

We love you, Jack.

 

February 17, 2013 

Bonnie and Jack Carver were our neighbors at their 54^th andPike St. home.  My husband and I are both gardeners as was Jack.  The thing about gardeners is they always have something to talk about and Jack was no exception.  He had quite a challenge to deal with when they moved into their new home.  The house new and very nice but the landscape had been neglected for several years.  It wasn’t long before Jack had it looking lush and inviting again.  He had planted a beautiful red lilac that was stunning when it bloomed in the spring.  We both moved around the same time and Jack gave us a start of the lilac for our new landscape.  The original shrub is gone now but the start provides us with beautiful blooms in the spring.  

The Carver’s were great entertainers and an invitation to their home was always something to look forward to.  Jack’s specialty was encrusted pepper steak and he treated us to it several times.  It was delicious!  We also enjoyed dining out with the Carver’s upon occasion.  

We had not seen Bonnie and Jack for several years and were able to reconnect when we learned of Jack’s illness.  We got to spend a little time with him and Bonnie a few weeks before he died.  He was thin but otherwise the “Jack” we had known.  It was a beautiful winter day and we left him sitting in the rocker on the front porch of there home in the sun.  Don and I were both appreciative of being able to spend a little time with him. 

Jack had an amazing life and he will be missed by his family and many friends.  Our thoughts and sympathies to Bonnie and his family. 

Mary and Don Kirby