Kelly Scott

I first met and became friends with Kenny (as he was then known to us) at a meeting held in someone’s home to form a Tribe of Indian Guides. We were  all of us eight-year-olds from Patrick Henry Elementary in Long Beach and had no time to wait around to become Cub Scouts. It was an incredible group of bright, enthusiastic kids who shared some amazing adventures together while closing out the decade. Mostly thanks to the truly creative ideas and efforts our father’s put into planning each week. The dad’s were tradesmen, salesmen, teachers and businessmen wiith eclectic backgrounds and experiences and that dovetailed nicely when creating our projects and field trips. And they all enjoyed each other’s company as well. Kenny and I paired up whenever we could. He was extremely smart, well mannered and fun. I was rather precocious so he and I were a good fit. Together we attended a Dodgers game at the L.A. Coliseum during their inaugural season and spent a night in the Teepees at Knott’s Berry Farm’s Indian Village. A tour of The Los Angeles County Museum of Natural History gave us a far more realistic view of Native American Life. And we toured a brewery, a basic chemistry lesson that the dad’s enjoyed more than us.

Kenny and I loved baseball and played together on a t-shirt league team before our days at Patrick Henry came to a close requiring us to say goodbye to each other. He was a very good friend. I saw “Ken” as he was now called one last time in 1972. He was home from school up north and we ran into each other during a party at a the home of a mutual acquaintance. I remember him expressing his interest in natural science, and all things ecological. His passing saddens me but it sounds like he led a fulfilling life, with many friends. And he remained true to the principles we were taught together as Indian Guides.