In the summer of 1955, between my junior and senior years, I had the pleasure of working at the Christian Children’s Home (now Woodlawn Children’s Campus) in Danville. It wasn’t really work, because I loved those kids, and there wasn’t any financial reward. The rewards were much greater in the unconditional love that only children can render.

I always spent my summers in Danville, because I was working my way through Centre and had a paying and eating job as a waiter/busboy at the Main Street Town House working for George Perros. I also worked and lived at the Danville firehouse for one year, in addition to doing annual Christmas stints at the post office. I didn’t get home to Philadelphia, Pa., very often. Too far away and too costly to travel back and forth.

I was a psychology major, and my department head, Dr. LeRoy Ullrich, suggested I “go out to the Christian Children’s Home and get a little child-psych experience.” I walked out the Perryville Road to the entrance, down that beautiful tree-lined road (is it still there?) and saw that gorgeous home. I was greeted with open arms by the administrator, the staff, and housemothers.

I can’t recall the number of children living there, but I do recall that they were ready for some “roughhouse” male companionship. I was on the Centre football team, so I was ready for five or six tackling marauders climbing all over me. It was great fun and very fulfilling to me, because they needed me and I needed their company. Most of my student friends were home with their families.

At that time, in addition to orphaned children, the Christian Children’s Home had become a home for several youngsters who had been physically and mentally abused. One little preschool girl was from a very hostile family environment, where she had watched her father brutally attack her mother. She would not talk to me, no matter how hard I tried.

Although I had no specific responsibilities as a nonpaid volunteer, I decided to teach several children how to swim. This proved to be a real confidence builder between the little guys and the big guy. One week before I was due to go back to Centre for full-time preseason football practice, the reclusive little girl spoke to me. “Mr. Tony, would you teach me how to swim.” I got so excited, because I knew I had broken through her male fear barrier.

Occasionally, I would go there in the evenings and stay to tuck the younger boys into bed. The boys and girls were in separate buildings. One of the other really touching moments occurred when the resident 13-year-old, self-proclaimed bully quietly asked me to tuck him in. Tears welled in my eyes when he told me that no one had ever done that for him. We bonded, and he was easier to play with after that evening.

When football practice started a couple of weeks before school, my visits with my kids were less frequent, but I always knew they were present at the Praying Colonels home football games. About eight or 10 of them would be up in the stands screaming and hollering, “We want Three-D Magee”—a cartoon character of the day with whose name they had labeled me. I was already in the game, but my loved ones let me know they were there.

I never became a licensed psychologist, but the lessons learned that summer about love, trust, and that warm, fuzzy feeling of being needed made an indelible mark on my psyche. I thank Centre College for making it all happen.

Tony R. DeMarco ’56 joined the officer ranks of the U.S. Navy immediately after graduating from Centre and spent 24 years of commissioned service in destroyers and submarines, and as a professional public affairs officer. He retired in 1979 as a commander and has spent the majority of his civilian life as a feature writer, newspaper consultant, and magazine copy editor. For the last 11 years, he’s lived in Homestead, Fla.

Centrepiece
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Danville, KY 40422

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