From the sidelines

There’s one firm identification for Bill Skiles, former Newport

Harbor High athlete in basketball and baseball, and that features fond

memories of George Yardley, Jr., an NBA Hall of Famer, who once broke the

all-time season scoring record when with the Fort Wayne Pistons.

Skiles, Harbor High Class of ‘49, and a resident of Fort Wayne, Ind.,

would be quick to explain that he didn’t ever team with George, Class of

‘46, but he did play with his brother, Bob, at Newport. Skiles was one of

the cage team’s leading scorers at one forward.

Another sterling mark that found Skiles in the all-time athletic

scoring book was his ’48 stand as a third baseman on the only

championship baseball team to make that high mark on the diamond in

Harbor High history.

From a recent phone conversation, Skiles reflected back on Newport

never having another baseball championship and was overwhelmed.

Skiles was one of the quickest, fastest infielders who ever played the

game for the Tars in the late ‘40s. He also starred for the Costa Mesa

Merchants and the American Legion ball teams.

Looking back, Skiles, like his infield mate Carleton Mears, said the

key to the ’48 outfit was the late Frank Hamilton, a 6-foot-4 left-handed

pitcher, and catcher Bill Weatherwax, who went on to play farm club ball

for five years with the St. Louis Cardinals’ chain.

Hamilton was also offered a $50,000 signing offer by the New York

Yankees, but, unfortunately, was unable to follow through after drawing

an injury in college.

Skiles was shocked to learn that Hamilton had passed away a couple of

years ago. “I hadn’t heard the news,” he said.

Skiles and his long-time partner, Pete Henderson, have been on the

road for years travelling with the famous Carpenters, which made it hard

to keep up with the news from the old home town.

After 10 years in Fort Wayne, Skiles and his lovely wife Arlene chose

the ’49 Class reunion a year ago to re-explore Southern California and

consider a return after San Juan Capistano days.

The couple tested San Jacinto, Idyllwild and San Juan Capistrano, but

they finally left with glum feelings about the area.

It’s just not the same anymore,” Skiles said.

Skiles still maintains a wealth of good humor. In fact, he, obviously

making a joke at himself and many members of his class, said he enjoyed

the reunion, “but I never saw so many old people in my life.” It was the

50th reunion at the Balboa Pavillon.

The following night, Skiles and Henderson performed a great musical

show that pleased all those attending.

Rollo McClellan, who has served as a life-long member of the Costa

Mesa-Newport Harbor Lions Club and Fish Fry, still recalls one of the

highlights where Skiles’ father, Bob, once sparked a wild yarn to draw

attention to the Fish Fry across the West.

Bill, who had father Bob’s imagination, equalled the Fish Fry episode

in 1961 when he drew national headlines across the land. Even cartoonists

got into the act.

Although young Bill hadn’t planned for any outrageous publicity, it

definitely turned out that way.

Skiles and a lady companion were parked in his sports car in the Back

Bay one Sunday afternoon simply enjoying the old-time planes performing

near the airport.

Suddenly, the couple heard a roar of water coming their way from a

distance. In short time, the water - 436 gallons of it - swamped the

sports car. They were astonished.

It was dirty water. In fact, it was bilge water from a Navy blimp

overhead. The blimp crew had been ordered to release all possible weight

so it could make a faster return to the blimp base near El Toro.

Skiles jumped out of the car and shook an unhappy hand at the blimp.

He tried to call Naval personnel to get a response and did not draw an

acceptable reply.

Always one to turn such incidents into humor, Skiles told the media

that he planned to sue the Navy for a $1.50 car wash.

The news continued to mount with hilarity and amusement.

The Navy finally boarded the blimp crew up in a barracks and would not

allow them to talk with anyone outside the gates.

It all ended when the late Walter Burroughs, founder of the Daily

Pilot, hosted a free dinner to forgive one and all. That worked.