I remember Steve running for office sophomore year and taking his shoes off during his speech because his dad told him it was important to be confident and stay relaxed. It apparently worked, because he was elected. I became friends with Steve junior year when we use to attend the varsity away baseball games. We found a way to start Rick Hopper’s 53’ Chevy without a key. I remember traveling to Western Springs for a regional final and were approaching a toll booth without any money. We searched frantically for loose change and still remember Steve pretending to hand me money and said we’ll use this imaginary money. I approached the toll and pretended to throw money in and drove off. I thought for sure the police were following me. We both felt guilty about the 35 cents, but never thought twice about taking Rick’s car. On the way home we decided to take the back roads and were afraid the bus carrying the players would beat us and Rick would find out. Until this day, Rick never found out about us using his car. However, he always seemed impressed that we would travel to the away games. I know all of us were crushed when Steve tragically died in a car accident on his way back to Bradley University in 1964. For me, it was my first exposure to tragedy. -Bob Nekas
It is still difficult to remember the loss of my first best friend Steve Carman. It was a long time ago in time but in ones heart it still feels like yesterday. Steve was my first friend when I moved to PF in fifth grade. Steve lived up the street from me on Wilshire. We took the bus to Sauk Trail Elem. Steve was at my house most summer days in elem and jr high school. We played a lot of baseball together.
I got a chance to talk to Paul Termini a couple weeks back and he filled me in on the accident that took Steve's life. It was difficult listening to Paul review how he moved over when Steve got in the car on the free ride back to Bradley. Paul said it would have been me if I hadn't moved over. Such a simple decision Paul thinks allowed him to live and Steve to die. He was a great friend.
On Steve and Bob "taking" my car to watch an away baseball game, I think I should report them to the police. What fun we all had together growing up in PF. What great friends.
During the summers of 63 and 64, Steve, myself, Mike Deshon, and Phil Major were cruising buddies. I don't recall a lot of the places that we cruised other than Dandy's, but we listened to a lot of Beach Boys music. During the summer of 64, Phil started dating a girl named Sylvia Granatelli. A few weeks later, Steve told me that he was going over to Sylvia's house and she was sneaking out the window so that they could be with each other. I told him that I thought that he was crazy, because if Phil ever found out, he would kill Steve. Well, Phil did find out, but much to his credit, he had the maturity to not beat the crap out of Steve. He just angrily told Steve to get away from him. On another occasion, Steve and I were working a private party at the Aqua Center one night, since we were lifeguards there. The group that was having the party was comprised of about 30 guys. Steve asked a fellow lifeguard if he knew the name of the group, and he said it was the, "Q-T's". Steve replied, "Q-T's? It looks more like the Ug-lies". And, as fate would have it, a rather brutish, neanderthal looking fellow overheard the comment, and went into ass=kicking mode immediately. Fortunately, the other lifeguard was several years older than us and was able to defuse the situation, but it was tense for awhile. But, that was Steve. And, last, but not least, during the summer of 64, Steve and I were trunk-boys one night while going to the drive-in. Shortly after the trunk lid was shut, Steve said that he didn't like the darkness, so he lit his cigarettte lighter. I begged him to put it out since I didn't want to die that night. He refused to put it out, and to this day I occasionally give thanks to whoever or whatever prevented us from blowing up.
Steve is buried near my sister's grave at Beverly Cemetary. Although I didn't know Steve, when I visit my sister's grave I also leave a pebble at Steve's grave as a sign that someone living still remembers this soul.
Bob Nekas
I remember Steve running for office sophomore year and taking his shoes off during his speech because his dad told him it was important to be confident and stay relaxed. It apparently worked, because he was elected. I became friends with Steve junior year when we use to attend the varsity away baseball games. We found a way to start Rick Hopper’s 53’ Chevy without a key. I remember traveling to Western Springs for a regional final and were approaching a toll booth without any money. We searched frantically for loose change and still remember Steve pretending to hand me money and said we’ll use this imaginary money. I approached the toll and pretended to throw money in and drove off. I thought for sure the police were following me. We both felt guilty about the 35 cents, but never thought twice about taking Rick’s car. On the way home we decided to take the back roads and were afraid the bus carrying the players would beat us and Rick would find out. Until this day, Rick never found out about us using his car. However, he always seemed impressed that we would travel to the away games. I know all of us were crushed when Steve tragically died in a car accident on his way back to Bradley University in 1964. For me, it was my first exposure to tragedy. -Bob Nekas
Richard Hopper
It is still difficult to remember the loss of my first best friend Steve Carman. It was a long time ago in time but in ones heart it still feels like yesterday. Steve was my first friend when I moved to PF in fifth grade. Steve lived up the street from me on Wilshire. We took the bus to Sauk Trail Elem. Steve was at my house most summer days in elem and jr high school. We played a lot of baseball together.
I got a chance to talk to Paul Termini a couple weeks back and he filled me in on the accident that took Steve's life. It was difficult listening to Paul review how he moved over when Steve got in the car on the free ride back to Bradley. Paul said it would have been me if I hadn't moved over. Such a simple decision Paul thinks allowed him to live and Steve to die. He was a great friend.
On Steve and Bob "taking" my car to watch an away baseball game, I think I should report them to the police. What fun we all had together growing up in PF. What great friends.
Lawrence Alsbrook
During the summers of 63 and 64, Steve, myself, Mike Deshon, and Phil Major were cruising buddies. I don't recall a lot of the places that we cruised other than Dandy's, but we listened to a lot of Beach Boys music. During the summer of 64, Phil started dating a girl named Sylvia Granatelli. A few weeks later, Steve told me that he was going over to Sylvia's house and she was sneaking out the window so that they could be with each other. I told him that I thought that he was crazy, because if Phil ever found out, he would kill Steve. Well, Phil did find out, but much to his credit, he had the maturity to not beat the crap out of Steve. He just angrily told Steve to get away from him. On another occasion, Steve and I were working a private party at the Aqua Center one night, since we were lifeguards there. The group that was having the party was comprised of about 30 guys. Steve asked a fellow lifeguard if he knew the name of the group, and he said it was the, "Q-T's". Steve replied, "Q-T's? It looks more like the Ug-lies". And, as fate would have it, a rather brutish, neanderthal looking fellow overheard the comment, and went into ass=kicking mode immediately. Fortunately, the other lifeguard was several years older than us and was able to defuse the situation, but it was tense for awhile. But, that was Steve. And, last, but not least, during the summer of 64, Steve and I were trunk-boys one night while going to the drive-in. Shortly after the trunk lid was shut, Steve said that he didn't like the darkness, so he lit his cigarettte lighter. I begged him to put it out since I didn't want to die that night. He refused to put it out, and to this day I occasionally give thanks to whoever or whatever prevented us from blowing up.
Marilyn Lillienfeld
Steve is buried near my sister's grave at Beverly Cemetary. Although I didn't know Steve, when I visit my sister's grave I also leave a pebble at Steve's grave as a sign that someone living still remembers this soul.