John Layh

Back in the summer of 1968, I was a bootcamper at the USN training facility in San Diego. Every day planes would fly over our parade ground & every day I would wish that I was back home in Dayton with my friends. The words of a song that Jack and his brother used to sing at the Alley Door, a song that was known to all of us youngsters back then, would echo in my head. I was 22 years old chronologically but still a ten-year-old kid between the ears. I wrote to another friend to ask Jack if he...