Remembering Eddie Mack Hill

From time to time, I recall a day in 1959, the summer before the seventh grade, early in the baseball season at Booster Field. Coach Arnold Copeland is at home plate hitting grounders for infield practice. As the catcher, I’m standing next to him to receive the return throws.

 

There’s chatter on the infield. Notably, Jimmy “Tee” Thomas, stationed at first base, with his authentic first baseman’s mitt. Against regular opponents, his usual refrain was “You’re swinging like a rusty gate.” But that day he’s just encouraging teammates to hustle.

 

One of the Zimmermans (maybe both of them) occupies second base, Truman Grogan, usually on the pitcher’s mound, stands ready at shortstop, and Eddie Mack Hill (WSHS, 1965), mans third base.

 

Eddie Mack, his first and middle names always conjoined back then, is positioned deep in the infield in anticipation of a hard-hit grounder, which wouldn’t be a problem, because his arm is strong enough to make the long throw. He exudes a certain enviable poise, wearing a red baseball cap, with the bill purposely curved just the right amount, pressed jeans, and high-top white sneakers—not Converse All-stars, they wouldn’t come until high school.

 

Some naysayers might say he was cocky, but his attitude never struck me or his teammates that way. He did have confidence, and he needed it, because he was our quarterback, even before we had an organized team. It was just understood. And that school year of 1959-1960, Willow Springs had its first junior high football team, with official uniforms and a four-game schedule.

 

That first year we only played the Pirates and the Whizzers—Mountain View and West Plains—losing twice to each. In case you are wondering, the West Plains junior high and freshman teams were called the Whizzers back then. I suppose the nickname was changed when it became associated with an embarrassing slang word. 

 

The following year, Ava and Mountain Grove were added to the schedule. We beat Mountain View and West Plains, tied Ava, and lost to Mountain Grove. The 1960 Willowmizzette, the grade school yearbook, noted “Hill’s deceptive handoffs.” Had I been the editor, I would have included Eddie Mack’s go-to play, the “Right (L) End Quickie,” a jump-pass where he rose above the line and passed to Jody Corn or me. Jody and I needed a press agent 67 years ago.

 

Charles “Buddy” Bennett was our junior high coach, and I still say, he was an excellent role model for his players. Before every game, he huddled the team and led us in a prayer. It always ended with the same: “Lord help us to win, but if we should lose, help us to be good losers. Now, go out there and get those ‘rascals.’”

 

The irony of the prayer was not lost on Eddie Mack, whose knack for mimicking people’s speech and mannerisms included Coach Bennet’s prayer. Eddie kept his teammates in stitches with his rendition, which ended: “. . . now, go out there and get those [insert colorful language].”

 

Even in junior high, Eddie was a romantic. In the seventh grade, he used the money he had earned shoveling manure in a barn for his father J.E. Hill (WSHS, 1944) to buy a Valentine’s Day present for his eighth-grade girlfriend. I believe it was a heart-shaped box of candy. Talk about ironies. I remember being impressed by his gesture, but I’m pretty sure I did not follow his lead.

 

He could also be a scrapper. The summer after junior high, he and his friend Bill Tandy (WSHS, 1964) got into a tussle at the Baptist church camp in Van Buren. It should be noted that you didn't actually have to be Baptist to attend—Eddie belonged to the Church of Christ. I was the only witness to the fight.

 

I don’t recall what started it all, but I marched with them both down a gravel trail toward the Current River. Neither spoke a word on the way down. To this day, I don’t believe either of them wanted to fight, but Eddie could be a tad mouthy, and Bill was not without ego. Most importantly, there had been witnesses to the argument, and the worst sin that could be committed in the mind of a teenage boy back then was to back down.

 

The boys squared off and Tandy threw a punch, only landing a glancing blow, as Eddie shifted his head avoiding the swing. He stared at Bill in disbelief, uttered a mild oath at Bill, and trudged away toward the river. Bill said nothing and did not gloat. Rather, he became concerned his friends would not like him, and almost desperately, asked me if I would continue to be his friend. Both boys, I think, realized the matter had been carried too far. They were friends again in a few hours, and remained that way the rest of their lives.

 

In high school, Eddie became a formidable quarterback, leading the SCA conference in passing his junior year and receiving all-conference honorable mention his junior and senior years. His 1964 statistics ranked him third in passing yards and eighth in passing touchdowns in SCA records for the decade. As one of his receivers, I’ll add that besides having a strong arm, he threw with precise accuracy. 

 

Eddie was not the highest ranked scholar in our class, but he was smart. Our sophomore year, he was one of 14 classmates to score in the 90th percentile range in the standardized tests given to sophomores (likely the Iowa Tests of Educational Development). In a more whimsical memory, I recall getting an “A” on a Lowell McMurtrey world history exam. I think Eddie got a “B,” but he got a question correct that I missed. He knew that Roman numerals were one of the contributions of Roman civilization. Why do I remember these odd tidbits?

 

Eddie was a talented musician and singer. His freshman year, as part of the mixed chorus, he had a role as a singing and dancing cowboy in the WSHS production of Oklahoma. Speaking of dancing, Barbara Sherrill Pigg (WSHS, 1964) says one time at Teen Town (Friday night dances held at the Legion Hall in the early 1960s) that her father who was chaperoning the event tapped Eddie on the shoulder and told him not to dance so close to his daughter. His senior year, he had the lead tenor role as Enoch Snow, opposite classmate Peggy Henry (now, Bradford), in the musical Carousel. 

 

At the district music competitions, he received a “one” rating his sophomore and junior years, and a “two” rating, his senior year in the vocal solo category. He was also an accomplished trumpet player and part of a trio with classmates Joe Corn and Doug James that received “ones” their sophomore and junior years.

 

After high school, Eddie, now known by most as Mack, served in the Army and graduated from Southwest Missouri State University, now Missouri State. While there, he served as president of its Vets Club. After graduation, he joined the Missouri Highway Patrol (MHP) in September 1974. 

 

Not surprisingly, his career choice had a Willow Springs connection. In an interview of Ed published in the Missouri Trooper, written by editor Pat Ward, he credited growing up near Troop G in Willow Springs, “. . . as having a large and favorable impact on him.”

 

With the SHP, he distinguished himself as a member of the Kansas City Metro Squad, which provides assistance to local law enforcement in major cases. Moreover, he was a member of Troop A’s elite Emergency Response Team that handles acute, high-risk matters such as hostage and barricade scenarios. 

 

 Ed was an original member or the Missouri State Troopers Association and served as president of Troop A, where his athletic talents were a handy asset. Tom Gray, a fellow trooper and husband of Ed’s sister Beverly Hill Gray, played on softball teams with Ed and says, “Ed was known for his superior abilities, and he was asked to be on many teams.”

 

Beverly attests, “While golfing with Mack, his drives were nearly always 300-plus yards.” I am not surprised. Once, classmate David Zimmerman told me he had stopped at the Troop A headquarters to see Ed, and nearly gushed when he described Ed’s physical appearance to me. “Mack has gotten big, and there’s not an ounce of fat on him.” 

 

Ed also worked on undercover assignments. Once, while dressed for such an assignment, he met WSHS classmate Truman Grogan for coffee. Truman later told me, “Mack had a knife hidden in his boot.” Obviously, Ed had to deal with some dangerous individuals, and it serves as a reminder that a trooper’s job can be high-risk.

 

As idyllic as life in Willow Springs can be, Eddie Mack’s life was not without sadness. On March 28, 1958, when Eddie was only in fifth grade, his 32-year-old mother, Betty (WSHS, 1944), was killed in an automobile accident. His father, J.E. Hill, was left to raise three young children: Eddie; his 6-year-old sister Beverly; and his 4-year-old brother Eric, who had been a passenger and thrown from the car during the accident.

 

After moving to Willow, I became aware of his mother’s death, but I never heard Eddie mention it. I did not understand how traumatically it must have affected him, because he always seemed so upbeat.

 

J.E. later married Agnes LeBaron, who brought four children of her own into the mix: teenage twin girls Jayne and Gene; Terry, a year younger than Eddie; and Wanda, two years older than Beverly. From my view, it was a real-life Brady Bunch family. The new kids were popular, and Willow folks accepted the arrangement in stride.

 

Ed was diagnosed with cancer in March 1984 and died just months later on October 22, 1984, at age 37. Beverly recalls that during the many days he spent in the hospital, “Willard Petrus was their captain, and he made sure Ed was never alone. He had a long line of troopers who came in shifts. That was so helpful to our family.” Her husband Tom coordinated the schedule, making sure Ed had a trooper with him around the clock. 

 

Another remarkable Willow Springs connection is that Willard Petrus (WSHS, 1945) was in the high-school class one year behind Ed’s father. 

 

Classmate Buddy Stuart offered a fitting final reflection: “When I think of Eddie Mack, I am reminded of how sad it is when someone so popular and talented is taken from his loved ones at such an early age.”

 

My thanks to Beverly Hill Gray for her assistance in this article.