Category : Books-Non-Fiction

Sub Category : Biography

                  The Dream Maker
                        by bill diehl

You know, if you had of ask me 5 years ago if I thought I would enjoy writing for fun or any other reason, I would of died from laughter. I mean I was never much of a reader or writer. I made decent grades in high school but still, I never even thought about writing.

My father William Diehl was an author. He was in and out of my life for what ever reasons but, he always encouraged me to follow my dreams.

Music was something I've loved from as early as I can remember. I grew up listening to the Beatles, Buddy Rich, and Simon and Garfunkle, to name a few. Both my Mom and my Dad loved listening to music and they had a Motorola stereo in the living room with something playing everyday just about.
As early as I can remember I've loved tapping to the music and listening to the drummers, especially Buddy Rich.

At seven my dad came home from work early because it was the day JFK was being buried in Arlington, Virginia. When he walked in I had his WW11 army helmet I used as my snare drum, and sticks I made out of tinker logs. I looked up and there was my Dad stairing with a smile on his face. Iwas playing right along with The US Marine Corps Marching Band.

The next day I walked in the den and my Dad and Mom had a red sparkle set of Stewart drums set up. I was estatic! From that day forward I wouldn't put the sticks down til I was 32... 25 years later.
That was pretty cool thing my parents did for me. Especially considering I made a living playing them for over 15 years.

But this stories really about Dad. He was a cool father in a lot of ways and a confusing one in others. Any resentments I might have had I laid to rest many years ago. Being an artist myself I came to realize trying to hold back an artist is like trying to hold back the wind.

I'll bet a  my father tried every bit of 15 creative ideas to try to make a living. Unfortunately it cost him quite a few wives and much ridicule. 
My parents were divorced for two years when my Dad ask me if I would like to live with him. I said yes immediately because  I was driving not only my Mom,   brother and sisters crazy beating the drums any spare second i had, but pretty much the entire neighborhood. So I loaded up my drums and clothes and off we went. Dad was doing some freelancing photography and writing when his next to his last attempt at being his own man became failure 15. 
He tried he is luck in the film industry. He wrote, directed, and financed a full length movie called The Secretary in 1973.  Actually, I enjoyed the movie which premiered at a movie theater that use to be in Cherokee Plaza in Brookhaven Ga. Though it was a failure fanancally, it just made my father more determined than ever.

Putting it in reverse for a bit. It's kind of an interesting story how my father ended up in Atlanta, Georgia. A town he wasn't really thinking about coming to much less living in. But Dad fell in love with Atlanta and would call Atlanta and St. Simons Island his home for his entire adult  life.

When he first moved to Atlanta from Queens New York after doing a two year stint in the Air Force in WW11 and then graduating from The University of Missouri,  which he majored in Journalism and minored in creative writing, it was due to a job offer from an old Army buddy by the name of Jim Townsend. Townsend offered my Dad  a job as a investigating reporter  for the Atlanta Journal.
Jim did actually work there, but was chief editor and had no authority to hire anybody. 
The late great Townsend was at the time, a raging alcoholic. Well when my Dad arrived at the bus terminal in downtown Atlanta, there was  no one there to greet him. Though I'm sure he had to being wondering why Jim wasn't there to meet him [Incidently Dad had borrowed $200 from his parents to get to Atlanta.] he figured a cross in communication and hopped a cab to the home office of the Atlanta Journal.
Well, when he finally arrived there he was told there was no job or openings at all at that time. My dad told the manager the story, and I guess he felt sorry for him and gave him a job writing obituaries.

Pretty funny... 

I think my Dad worked there for about 10 years. He moved up quickly and was one of the best journalist they had. (In my opinion that is) He went from the obituaries to front page action reporter.
My father had a knack for always getting to the top stories first. We later found out he had befriended several Atlanta Police at the time and they would actually let him ride around with them on the night beat, explaining how he scooped up headline news in Atlanta so fast.

From there he went on to be an editor for a new magazine that was coming out in Atlanta.It was called Atlanta Magazine. 

From there my Dad went on to do 5 or 6 other jobs. He ended up doing a lot of traveling which caused an enormous strain on my parents marriage, eventually leading to a divorce like I mentioned earlier. I was 12 years old at this time.

So now back to the events that lead up to Dad deciding to write his first novel. 

So my fathers in debt. Making the Secretary was a fun thing for him. I enjoyed it too. I worked on the set as much as I could and going to the priemer at Cherokee Plaza in Brookhaven Georgia was exciting to say the least. But, even a low buget production can be expensive. Now hes pretty much broke.

So he pulls me to the side and tells me he wants one last shot at his final dream.

To write a fiction novel.

Let me tell you straight up. My Dad was a fuck up if you were to asks certain people, but he was my hero  then when I was 16. He didn't need to ask me for my opinion or anything else for that matter. I was a minor and still in high school. But he did anyway. 
He went on to explain to me he had this idea for the story since he was in WW11 and had been wanting to write it since he married my mother but it was going to take approximately a year to write the novel.

Basicly I heard the same thing I'm certain my beloved mother had 15 years ago.. God Bless her heart... No dineros for at least one year.

Back tracking now to a little about my mother's life.

You have to understand my Mom was from the smalltown [at the time] of Newnan Ga. Close your eyes and picture Andy in  Mayberry.
I mean, her father was a sucessful and highly respected lawyer in Newnan  who paid his own way through 4 years of college and law school by bartending at night and on weekends. When he graduated from The University of Georgia and Emory he was debt free. 
My mother was an only child and a  southern belle so to speak.
I never met Grandpa Arnold. He died of a massive heart attack when my mom was only 16.
My mother was brilliant herself making straight A's all through grammer school, high school, and her 6 years at Agnes Scott College for Women in Decatur  Georgia where she earned her master's degree and decades later taught math there for 5 years. She had to stop teaching there at the end of those 5 years due to a clause in her contract that stated renewal depended in her having her PHD by the end of the 5 year contact. Though I know how hard she tried, God Bless her heart, she was unable to get her PHD. She was a single mom raising four children at the time and was a little too much for her to do at that time.

Now how my Mom and Dad ever went out together in the first places... Muchless got married... Amazes me.

I mean my mothers this real proper kind of no non-sense kinda a gal from a small town known as Newnan Georgia.