I was mugged!

The Plaza Hotel on Akard Street, Dallas, Texas

The Plaza Hotel on Akard Street, Dallas, Texas (Click to enlarge.)

In January 1983, I was a high school senior and I was mugged next to the Plaza Hotel on the edge of downtown Dallas.

Early that morning, I had been taken to the United States Military Entrance Processing Command (MEPS) by my Marine Corps recruiter. The command was a centralized location to process recruits for all branches of the military. At MEPS, the recruits complete aptitude tests, background screening, and a physical. From what I remember, the process was quite streamlined; the recruits arrived early, were put through their paces (mental and physical exams), then sent to lunch at the Plaza Hotel on Akard Street just across I-30.  After returning from lunch, the recruits were inducted by swearing an oath of service to end the day.

Everything went fine until lunch. We were instructed to walk over to the Plaza Hotel, which back then, was only a few minutes walk from the location of the processing center. Since I was the only recruit from the Grand Prairie station, I walked to lunch by myself. As I crossed the Akard Street bridge, I passed a group of guys going the opposite direction. They were about my age and a little older, and there were five or six of them. Ten, fifteen, maybe twenty seconds after I passed them, I had a strange feeling and looked over my shoulder. At that moment, they had turned around and started back my direction. I kept walking toward the hotel, which was located immediately at the end of the bridge. After a few paces, I looked back again. By now, they had started to run my direction. I continued to walk toward the hotel, which was even closer by this point. However, the entrance was around the corner, and before I got there, I was surrounded.

Craig Dunning was mugged under this tree at the Dallas Plaza Hotel on Akard Street in January 1983

Craig Dunning was mugged under this tree at the Dallas Plaza Hotel on Akard Street in January 1983.

One of the most vivid memories of the event was the tree. I had been herded off the sidewalk into the grass, and the tree was right there. Until recently, I hadn’t been back to that location since it happened, which is now 33 years ago. When I arrived at the location, not only was the tree still there the memories were still there, too. It’s amazing how vivid the memories are all these years later considering the encounter was not more than 1 minute long.

The group of guys surrounded me. And as I turned toward the tree to see the guys on that side of me, one of them hit me square on the chin and another grabbed for my wallet in my back pocket. Although I was staggered, I was able to slap his hand away from my pocket with my right hand and gather myself without falling to the ground. As I stood up straight, we all froze in place … the prey surrounded by the hunters. I looked at them. They looked at me. And after a few seconds, I said, “That’s enough!” and proceeded to exit the circle toward the entrance to the hotel. They remained frozen as I walked between them. I have no idea why they let me leave. Perhaps they were stunned that I resisted. Or that I decided to leave. Or that I didn’t fall to the ground from the knockout punch. I don’t know, and it sounds unbelievable as I type it. But, that’s what happened.

As I walked away, they broke full speed in the opposite direction. Once inside the hotel, I found a seat among other recruits and sat down. I was stunned and apparently disheveled enough that one of the guys asked me what was wrong? “I just got mugged,” I said without emotion. Everyone at the table looked at me in disbelief. I explained the details, and one tough young recruit scolded me for not fighting them. He went on to describe what he would have done had he been in the same situation. Everyone at the table laughed at his bravado before describing to him how poor his chances would be against a group of five or six guys. He insisted he would have wiped the floor with those “blankety-blanks.”

Eventually, I was able to eat and when I finished, I walked back to MEPS with a couple of the guys. Immediately upon our arrival, they reported the incident. One of the managers brought me in to find out the details before calling the police. The police showed up pretty quickly and began to scour the area for the gang, but never saw anyone fitting the description I had provided.

My recruiter finally returned to bring me back home. He was shocked at my story and was humored by the machismo of the tough guy at lunch. He assured me I did the right thing by not engaging with the gang, but he also said that once I finished boot camp I would be able to manage five or six guys with no problems.

I never had nightmares nor flashbacks from the event, but I did have sharp jaw and ear pain for a few years. I also began to keep a better watch on my surroundings when I’m out and about. One other thing: I don’t think I would keep walking if such a situation were to occur again. I. Would. Run.

My First Job and First Business

Screenshot 2016-03-22 20.38.31

This is the yard I mowed each week when I was about 10 years old.

I was about 10 when the entrepreneurial spirit hit me. I had the idea to start a lawn mowing business in our mobile home park and went door to door asking for the opportunity to mow their yards. I managed to secure but one yard on a weekly basis, but picked up others here and there.

I didn’t have a formal business because I had no company name, no business license, no tax advisors. I didn’t even have a receipt book. I simply was a kid who wanted to work and earn some money.

Even though I had only one regular customer, I received $5 each time I mowed her yard. That wasn’t bad money for a 10-year-old in 1976. It didn’t take me more than 20 minutes to finish the job because I didn’t trim or edge and the lot was only about 350 sq ft.

Although I don’t remember any specific thing that I did with the money I earned, I appreciate my parents allowing me to do this because I learned personal responsibility, commitment, and the value of working. All of which have been more important to me than the amount of money I earned through my “business.”

Arlington Stadium, The Texas Rangers, and Me

Arlington Stadium was the original home of the Texas Rangers. Although it was never shrouded in baseball lore like Yankee Stadium, it is where stadium nachos were invented and it was the professional ballpark of my childhood.

Arlington-Stadium-500We weren’t season ticket holders but we went fairly regularly, particularly on promotion events. My most vivid memory of a promotion night was bat night. Most of the flooring in the stadium (at least in the outfield) was steel plating, so you might imagine how loud it got when thousands of kids pounded their bats on the floor during a rally. Presumably for safety reasons, bat night was discontinued.

One season, we went frequently enough that I was able to get a pennant for every MLB team, buying one per visit. The walls in my room were covered with team pennants. I also liked to get the miniature bats, which were great for cup ball games in the parking lot while we waited for the traffic to clear after the game.

Craig Dunning and Lenny Randle, Father's Day 1975, Arlington Stadium

Craig Dunning and Lenny Randle, Father’s Day 1975, Arlington Stadium

I loved going to the park, especially when we got there early enough to get autographs and see pre-game batting practice. The sights, sounds, and smells continue to be a thrill for me though I rarely go to games anymore. I’ve been priced out of Major League games.

A few visits to Arlington Stadium from my childhood are seared into my memory. When I was about 10, for some reason I placed my brand new baseball glove on the back bumper of our car before getting into the car. I also forgot that it was there. We drove out the Turnpike (I-30) and just before the 360 exit, the traffic backed up to a crawl and a passenger in another car noticed my glove … still on the bumper almost 10 miles later! As they passed us, he pointed to the back of our car and incredulously said, “There’s a glove on your bumper.” It took a second, but I realized what he meant, and shouted,”My glove! I left it on the bumper!” My dad immediately pulled on to the shoulder and I jumped out and retrieved my glove. My dad was so amazed the glove was still on the bumper, I didn’t even get in trouble for leaving it there.


Craig Dunning and Jeff Burroughs, Father’s Day 1974, Arlington Stadium

In the mid to late 70s, the outfield wall in left and right fields didn’t extend all the way to the bleachers, which left an open area just beyond the railing. Home run balls frequently landed in that area about 8 feet below the front row seats, and fans always went over the rail and jumped down to retrieve those balls. Frequently, several fans went for a ball and sometimes they would even end up wrestling for it, which was always exciting.

Whenever we sat in the outfield, we usually sat in the right field bleachers because the setting sun would not be directly in our eyes. Once, though, when I was 11 or 12, we were sitting in the first few rows of the left field bleachers when a ball fell short of the stands. I immediately scaled the fence and dropped to the ground below. Several others did the same, but I was the first to pounce on the ball. It. Was. Mine. At least for the moment. By the time we all climbed back up into the stands, a few ushers were waiting for me. They demanded the ball because I was not supposed to leave the stands. Of course, they were right, … but everybody jumped down there. I wasn’t even the first that night, and they hadn’t bothered anyone else. Nevertheless, with great disappointment, I surrendered the ball, and the ushers left to a great chorus of boos.

When I was in high school, I and a couple friends had a very unusual experience at Arlington Stadium. The father of one of the kids from my high school made arrangements for the visiting teams, which included seating for the wives/girlfriends, hotel accommodations, and transportation to and from the stadium. One night, the Detroit Tiger’s team bus was slow in leaving the stadium, and a handful of the players were anxious to get out of there. I’m not sure how word got to three high school kids (I was 16, at the time), but we were told that some players were looking for rides to the hotel. We immediately said that we would take them, and as quickly as possible drove our cars around to the visiting team exit. To my absolute surprise, three Detroit Tigers piled into my two-door, 1973 Camaro for the short ride to the hotel. That was in 1982, and now 34 years later, I can’t remember the names of those players. Five minutes after they got into my car, we were at the hotel. I didn’t ask for autographs or tickets or anything else; I barely even talked to them because I didn’t know what to say. I can’t imagine the same scenario happening today, but it did in 1982. I gave three Detroit Tigers a ride from the stadium to their hotel.

I was disappointed when I learned that Arlington Stadium was being replaced by a newer, better stadium. I suppose the Ballpark in Arlington (its original name) is a better and nicer stadium, but it will never replace Arlington Stadium, the park of my youth.

A Special Day

January 8 will always be a special day for me. My life was changed in inestimable ways!

Happy Birthday, Punk! I love you.


From the Time Capsule: In the video below, you are one of the “stars” in a commercial for a ladies tea at our church in Jerusalem. You were 5 years old.

RIP Mrs. Betty Gaddy

Betty Gaddy, 3/15/2013 © Jerre G. Beal

Betty Gaddy, 3/15/2013 © Jerre G. Beal

I recently discovered that Mrs. Betty Jo Gaddy (née Bogan) passed away on Sunday, December 28, 2014, in Rock Hill, SC, just eight weeks shy of her 90th birthday.

Mrs. Betty Gaddy was my first grade teacher (1971-72) at Arcadia Park Elementary School in Dallas, Texas.

I met Mrs. Gaddy just before starting first grade, on day trips to the school during which we were introduced to the “ways” of first grade.

I specifically remember her teaching us how to go through the lunch line! She showed us how to get our tray, then silverware, then our plates of food, then our milk as we slid our trays forward. At the cashier, we presented our money or lunch ticket before we carefully took our trays to our tables and sat down. After pretending to eat, she showed us how to put our things away; we took the tray to the dump bin and sorted our paper to the side cans, and in the middle was the slop can for our leftover milk and food. (We were told by the janitor, Mr. Guinn, that the slop can actually went to the hogs!) From there, we took our stuff to the wash window where someone on the other side washed the things. Funny what we remember after so many years; and, yes, we actually did the walk through.

1st Grade (1C), Spring 1972, Arcadia Park Elementary School

Mrs. Gaddy’s 1st Grade Class (1C), Spring 1972, Arcadia Park Elementary School. I am on 2nd row, 3rd from right, yellow shirt.

I remember Mrs. Gaddy’s smile in the classroom when we read or spelled a word correctly. She smiled brightly and easily. She always encouraged us to improve and go somewhere and be somebody, which was important considering our very working class neighborhood. But she never did this in a condescending way; she was a kind thoughtful soul in addition to being a good teacher.

I don’t know that I have fulfilled her dreams for her students, but I regret that she didn’t know that I finally earned my PhD (more than forty years after graduating from her class) and am now carrying on her craft of education. I have a feeling she would smile big and be very happy.

I think she saw things in me that others probably didn’t, and she was the first to give me the opportunity for leadership … as much as a first grader can be a leader. My mother reminded me that on more than one occasion Mrs. Gaddy sent me to her car to retrieve things she had forgotten and to the restroom to retrieve kids that hadn’t come back to class. She said she sent me because she could trust me to come back.

Here are a couple things she noted in my report card:

His conduct generally is good although he sometimes lacks self-control in regard to talking unnecessarily. Craig is a delightful person and seems to have wisdom far beyond his six years! (November 24, 1971)


Craig has leadership qualities that have been an asset to our class. (June 1, 1972)

Over the years, Mrs. Gaddy has never been far from my mind; I have never thought of or driven through Arcadia Park without her coming to mind.  I could not have had a better teacher to get me started; she established a good foundation upon which to build.

Thank you, Mrs. Gaddy, for your investment in me and so many other kids during your 30+ years of teaching in the Dallas Independent School District. The difference you made in so many lives is immeasurable in this life. You were the best!

%d bloggers like this: