When I first came to White Center and West Seattle years ago I joined the Toastmasters. I didn't know anybody and though I was blessed with ambition felt it could benefit me to not only get to know people but help me in learning how to stand on my feet and convey ideas without stumbling around with a twisted tongue.

It was brutal.

Toastmasters teaches you to how to be silver tongued but the process includes having your fellow wannabes criticize you mercilessly. It is trial by fire but it works.

We met once a week at an early birds group at 6:30 a.m. There was West Seattle's young banker Bob King who went on to become president of Westside Federal Savings and Loan, White Center's Norman Ackley, an attorney who became a state representative and a judge; George Rose, successful optometrist; Fred Egge, popular appliance dealer and Bob Burgess who at the time was selling ice to restaurants and a score of others. All bent on becoming comfortable speaking before a group .

I was reminded of those days last week when I was asked by a White Center homeboy, Pat Kinshella to speak to a Toastmasters club in Burien.

I agreed and I took Elsbeth along as proof that if you were eloquent enough you could get enough nerve to ask a beauty queen to marry you which I did 37 years ago.

I was in shock when we walked into the room and saw 25 people almost all on the wintry side of 50. One was a lovely silver haired lady of 93. It was a room full of people who have not given up learning to speak on their feet .It was thrilling to see and meet them, listen to them at the lectern , and be able to stand before them and not tremble.

It was not always like that.

I was asked to be the toastmaster at a golf banquet a long time ago. I had not yet been through the Toastmasters baptism agony so I was apprehensive.

It was held at the West Seattle golf course and a fellow golfer picked me up and drove his car to a house where many of the guests were meeting to have a drink before the big event. I had never tasted liquor before (I was 25) and someone brought me a martini. I sipped it and it tasted like fuel oil. I managed to get it down and a guy then brought me another. " Hey," he said." You can't fly on one wing."

I had never heard that before and my head was already reeling a little but I managed to get most of it down before I got in the back seat and we took off for the banquet.

The room was full of golfers when we arrived. I took my place at the small podium, and after rapping on a water glass

to get the guests attention, I greeted everybody. My head by now was reeling badly and as I started to tell a joke , a husky bald headed young man started to heckle me. I was still alert enough to reach over, pick up a full glass of ice water and pour it on my hecklers head. I was toast.

That is something they don't teach you at Toastmasters Club.

Then I passed out and the next I remember was sitting on the floor in the kitchen holding a cup of black coffee.

Most of the guests had departed and workers were cleaning pots and pans.

Jerry is now restricted to looking at the martini as it is taken to another guest by a waiter. He can be reached at publisher@robinsonnews.com