Frank Ward touched many at Lake Forest Country Day. Now, his former students are paying him back

	Courtesy of Warner Books

By E.M. Swift

Reprinted from the book "COACH: 25 Writers Reflect on People Who Made a Difference"

In the early 1970s someone made a tape recording of Frank Ward teaching wrestling to a group of first graders. I open with this, not because wrestling was an important element in Coach Ward's repertoire, nor because he became a local legend at the Lake Forest (Ill.) Country Day School by working with first graders. A history teacher and the athletic director from 1959-82, the barrel-chested Ward was best known for coaching football and baseball to seventh, eighth and ninth graders. He wore a brush cut and carried himself with a military bearing, having been a decorated infantryman in both World War II and Korea. His imposing physical presence was offset by a warmth and twinkle in his eyes and a disarming sense of humor. He frequently ended history class with long, funny stories about army life. He called the quizzes he sprung on us "quizzicals." The big test at the end of the term was a "testicle."

Why the tape was made is something of a mystery, but the recording captures Coach Ward's voice better than anything I've run across. It may help the reader understand how this extraordinary man was able to engender the loyalty and devotion of a generation of boys, who later proved they were worthy of his life's work. It may even help some readers understand why Coach Ward eventually alienated a small but vocal set of sheltering parents, an alienation that led to his premature retirement. Certainly those who knew him will recognize in the tape Coach Ward's spirit, his love of nonsensical nicknames, his gruff, dramatic voice, and his ability to make the most meaningless competition into a Homeric struggle demanding courage and sacrifice.

"We're going to do a little wrestling," the tape begins. "Weinerman Henry, out here in the middle. Whites Woloson, right here. Get on all fours. Now when I say wrestle, wrestle. The idea is: Can you move fast? Who is fast? That's what we're trying to find out. Now wrestle! Use your hands. That's it. Jeez, he gave that man an awful going over. Don't take that Whites Woloson. [The boy is apparently crying.] You all right? You're all right. You're a tough cookie, Whitey. You're one tough cookie Whites Woloson. Take a rest, you two. A mush job for Mouse Henry. Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Coach Ward would take one of his ham-sized palms and rub it vigorously and affectionately over a boy's face when administering a "mush job." It was the physical embodiment of tough love.

"Sid Gorter and Charlie Hough, out in the middle. Get on all fours. Now wrestle! The power of Charlie Hough! He's trying to wear his man out, a typical Monty Hough trick. He's a regular Jack Hough. [Jack Hough was Charlie's older brother.] Oh, Sid, you're taking an awful beating. Get on your stomach, Sid. He can't pin you when you're on your stomach. Roll on your stomach. Beautiful effort made by Sid, he almost had him. Oooh. It could be all over. It's curtains for Sid. Here's your winner. The power of Charlie Hough is brutal."

You can hear the other first graders squealing with delight in the background. Coach Ward's passion was infectious. "These two men, Whites Stauber and friend. Ready? Wrestle! Holy cow! Kent's all over his man. He's tearing Whites Stauberman apart! Whites Stauberman won't take that. He will not take that. He's going right after a pin. Hold it, hold it. Beautiful rolling in there. Whitey J. Stauberman learned to roll while fighting steers out West. Pin his arms down, Kent. Now squeeze him. He's going to squeeze the stomach right out of him. Move the legs! He's going to ride his man down. 50 seconds to go in this bout. The clock is running. Kent's as fast as a cat. He's as fast as a cat without whiskers. Oh, man! He's got him tied in a knot. He's chasing his man all over the lot. No touching the competitors. Any man touching the competitors will be asked to leave. He almost had him by the big toe! Stay with him, Kent. 10 seconds left. Get on top of him. Go left, Whitey. Go left. Oh! He went right instead of left. This bout's history."

It was this particular class's first introduction to Frank Ward. Some were already being dubbed with nicknames that would stay with them the rest of their lives. David "Sid" Gorter was the first of three Gorter brothers to be called "Sid" by Coach Ward, for no particular reason. Any kid with blond hair became "Whitey." My brother, whose name was Lock, became J.K. Knutterman, who was a sausage maker out of Coach Ward's childhood. He was also called Crazy Legs. The nicknames were a badge of honor, a boy's athletic alter-ego. Parents and siblings often adopted them. To this day (40 years after the fact) David Gorter's parents call him Sid.

Ward, like a lot of men of his era, believed in competition. He held chin-up contests, push-up contests, foot races. Sometimes he staged boxing matches. When children compete, there are winners and losers, sometimes tears. But with Coach Ward, whichever camp you landed in, the victorious or the vanquished, there was also fun and laughter. Real laughter. Not happy talk. Not: "Did everyone have fun today?" Feelings were hurt and quickly mended. At the end of the wrestling recording one boy can be heard lamenting that the gym class was too short, too short. Eight years later, as that group left the Day School, nearly all of them would believe the same thing. Their time with Frank Ward was too short, too short. Few of them would ever forget him.