David Meswarb, submitted by David Springer, November 2022

NOTE: This is an excerpt from David’s memoirs, dictated to David Springer. Springer transcribed the narration and Meswarb approved the text. Search David Meswarb’s name for other pieces about David’s experiences in other locations on the website.

Chiropractic

The Guidance Teacher at my high school, Mr. Francis Bob Cook, called me in for an interview.  We discussed my various experiences and aptitudes. [Graduated 1959]

1. My finger dexterity was not good.
2. My fingers are very sensitive.
3. My manual dexterity (use of my hands) was very good.
4. I had reasonably good grades.
5. I had a professional background.

These are some of the factors that indicated to him that I may want to consider chiropractic as a career choice. In addition, I had a back problem helped by a local Dr. Knudson, DC.

During that summer a guy from Waterloo came to our house.  He had learned that I was interested in attending Chiropractic College.  He said he was a student at Palmer School of Chiropractic.  He was off for the summer.  He wanted to encourage me to go there.  He said he was available to take me to Davenport to show me around.  Roger Roff stuttered badly and he appeared awkward.  We said we would discuss it and get back to him.  My Dad was “turned off”.  Mom and I, on the other hand, were impressed by the fact that, even with his obvious handicap, Roger was able to go out of his way to be of assistance.  Mom and I talked it over and decided to take him up on his offer to go to Palmer. [Graduated 1967]

Palmer school, which later became Palmer College, was unusual in many ways.  The floors were reinforced concrete – in case Chiropractic did not catch on the place could easily be converted to a shoe factory or something.  There were sayings on all walls.  Some examples are below:

• “Get the big idea and all else follows.”
• “Climbing the ladder of success is not the problem.  It is getting through the crowd of people at the bottom of the ladder looking up.”
• Inlaid in the tile above the Urinal in the men’s restroom near the cafeteria was “Don’t take yourself too damn seriously”.
• From the top of the classroom building a sign stood out: “Me Do It”

I had been practicing Chiropractic in the office of Dr. Ault in Baker Louisiana – 10 miles north of Baton Rouge.  I had Tuesdays and Thursdays off.  I decided to set up my own practice in St Francisville LA in my free time.  When Dr Ault found out about this move, he came back from Florida.  He said you can’t do that because “it puts you in competition with us.” I said, “I‘ve already done it.”  So, Dr. Ault and I parted ways.  My office wasn’t making enough to support me.  I had got a job working nights at the Louisiana State Penitentiary – Angola. 

I started in dormitories that house up to 60 inmates each.  In the winter I worked with Mr. Kelley.  We were back in the TV room when the heaters were on in the dorm. It was very warm and we dosed off.  The lieutenant came by to check on us.  He flashed his light through the front window.  We did not give an answering flash.  So he and two other correctional officers came back to check on us.  As they passed in from of the fight from outside, I woke up.  When they flashed the light in my face, I had my eyes open.  He said “Meswarb, you didn’t answer our signal and it looked like you were asleep.” The other guy agreed with the lieutenant.  The lieutenant then said, “Mr. Kelly do you think Meswarb was asleep”?  Mr. Kelly was sitting next to a heater and he did not respond.  Again, the lieutenant said, “Mr. Kelly?” There was no response from Mr. Kelly. Finally, they had to shake him awake!  This would have been grounds for dismissal for both of us but we were saved by the fact that the lieutenant rode to work with Mr. Kelly.  This episode worked to my advantage because I was transferred to cell blocks called C.C.R. – Closed Cells Restricted.  Closed Cells Restricted means one inmate per cell – thus fewer fights.  After a while, I was put in charge of Death Row when the regular guy was absent.

The Local Spiritual Assembly of Baton Rouge recommended not making a big effort teaching the Faith to inmates because of their situation – made it impossible to stick to the teachings but teaching free people was okay. The first person I talked to, Paul Robichoux, expressed early interest but didn’t stick to it. We stayed close friends. I lived in a dormitory across from the main prison. There were two beds per room and a shared bathroom with the next room. 

At first I had no roommate but then a guy, Mike Stockburger, from Alexanderia, Louisiana moved in.  He had been a nurse in Alexandria.  We got along well and he soon was interested in the Faith.  Mike got a girl-friend – Pam.  Pam lived in a mobile home outside the prison in Wakefield, Louisiana.  When Mike and Pam got interested in Baha’i, Paul Robichoux had renewed interest.  The four of us had regular deepening firesides at Pam’s trailer. Mike, Pam and Paul became Baha’is.  Paul had relatives that lived within three miles of the prison that were interested. When I was going to pioneer to Antigua, the glue that held our group together seemed to evaporate.  I became a foreign pioneer to Antigua. Paul became a home-front pioneer in a town called New Roads, Louisiana – across the river from St Francisville.  Mike and Pam got married (I think) and moved to Baton Rouge.  Paul’s relatives became Baha’is so there was still a Baha’i group in West Feliciana Parish – just up the road from the prison.

I had been a member of the Southern Louisiana District Teaching Committee when I left I was replaced by Paul Robichoux.  Mike and Pam broke up and Mike dropped out of sight.  Pam’s mother lived in Hot Springs, Arkansas.  Abbie Black bought a car for Pam to drive back to Hot Springs.

Dr. Ault came to visit me in Antigua twice.  He had moved to Malvern, Arkansas.  He said if I wanted to come back to the US for any reason, he had a cabin on Lake Catherine between Malvern and Hot Springs.  I could stay there for free, if I could put up with his parties.  I took him up on the offer and stayed a full summer.  I got in touch with a Baha’i couple.  They were very stressed about something that happened in Little Rock.  When I told them about my working in Angola, they said there was a girl had moved in from Louisiana with a similar story.  Guess who?  Pam’s Mom had bought her a house in Hot Springs.  She considered herself still a Baha’i. She had a large portrait of Abdu’l-Baha displayed very prominently but she had no interest in attending Baha’i meetings.  I have many stories about my 12 years in Antigua but that may be for another time.

Pilgrimage (1970s?):

In Baton Rouge one of the members came back with glowing reports after being on pilgrimage. He encouraged as many as possible to go. Abbie Black and I started making arrangements. She went before me and said was very exciting because country singer Dan Seals was part of her group. When my time came I was running a practice for my good friend Dr. Robert Broadbent in Indianola, Mississippi. He had arranged for someone to take me to the Memphis airport. Bob had expected me to take the cash receipts from the office but since he didn’t make that clear to me, I left for New York with less than one hundred and fifty USD. I got to Kennedy about 9:00 pm. My flight out wasn’t until the next afternoon. I talked to a bus driver and he said for a quarter, I could ride his bus all night. That’s what I did. This bus circled Kennedy airport stopping at every terminal about once an hour. I remember a cold night but the bus stayed warm because only a few people got on or off. Daylight rolled around and the bus riders started to increase. I decided it might be time to check in with my airline.

My whole trip had been planned by the Universal House of Justice using an Israeli travel agent. So my airline was EL AL both words man UP, the ELAL agent didn’t show up until after 10:00 am. He asked why I was so early because the flight didn’t leave until afternoon. I told him about coming from Memphis and the all night bus ride around the airport. He asked why I was going to Israel. I told him I was on a Baha’i pilgrimage. He perked up, gave me a big smile, and said, “So you are going to see the new Baha’i Shrine?” I thought about it a bit – I knew of no New Baha’i Shrine so I said, “there is no New Baha’i Shrine.” He didn’t shut up. “Oh yes, it’s in Haifa,” he said, “I’ve seen it myself. It is beautiful.” I said, “No” and shook my head. He smiled and said, “Yes”. I walked away before I got any more upset. I remembered that I had been warned that Israeli Security may try to play tricks on you for security reasons.

As it was getting time I headed down the concourse. Someone pointed to look out the window. There was a 747 sitting half way between us and the next terminal. “That’s our plane.” It was the most beautiful plane I ever saw – covered with shades of blue, white and gold with the dark blue Star of David on its tail. It was beautiful! Someone pointed to the roof of the next terminal. There was a man with a rifle guarding our plane. We walked down a flight of stairs, out the door, and onto the tarmac. There was a bus waiting. I got on and we shuffled toward the back and turned around. I immediately saw the irritating ticket agent. As the door closed we started making our way to the plane. He started toward me through the other passengers. I expected him to acknowledge that he was just kidding. Instead, when he got close enough he smiled he said you are going to love that new shrine – It is beautiful.

When we got to the plane, the wheels of the bus stayed on the ground but the whole passenger ramport lifted and we walked on to the plane. It took several bus loads to fill the plane. Meanwhile, we saw more snipers on our terminal guarding our plane. As we got situated, I found out the foxy lady next to me was planning to go scuba diving in the sea of Galilee near Capericum. I don’t remember what time we took off but soon the sun set and it was night, which was good because I was exhausted and it gave me a chance for a nap. That didn’t last long because when traveling east on a jet night is a couple of hours. Soon it was daybreak. They served us bagels and lox (very good). The Captain announced that we were over Europe and far below the white landscape was the Alps. Soon we were over the Mediterranean Sea. We could see the outline of most of Italy. Then a rather solemn song came over the speakers. Someone said it was the National Anthem of Israel. As we approached Tel Aviv, the speakers turned up loud and on came a rousing version of “Hava Nagela.” We were preparing to land because I could feel the wheels go down and lock. Rather than telling everyone to sit down and fasten their seat belts, the stewards were encouraging everyone to stand up and dance. I had just gone to the restroom, so, I was already in the aisle which was now full of people dancing. The plane didn’t pull up to the terminal here either. They rolled out a big mobile stair, we walked down, and walked 50 or 60 yards into the terminal. We collected our luggage and went through immigration.

After that there was a Baha’i who came to greet me and take me to a hotel where we met with other Baha’i pilgrims already there. Some showed up later. When we all got together there were three other men: Robert Ramirez – a Mexican from South Texas; Rudy, a full-on hippie from California. I really got along good with these two, especially Rudy. We were like fast friends. The third I’ll call Jim (?) was in the Air Force stationed on an Island close to China. His job was to intercept and translate and forward all radio communication within China. That sounds exciting but Jim says it was kind of boring. He seemed too military and goodie for the rest of us.

There were fourteen women of various ages. The “standout” was a ninety year old former Jewish lady from Connecticut and her young (early twenties) traveling companion. During the whole trip, I barely got to know any of the other ladies.

After we got to our rooms and brought our luggage, us four guys went up to the roof. Our hotel was the second tallest building in Tel Aviv. Someone got the idea this was perfect for paper airplanes. We went back to our rooms and gathered up hotel stationary and whatever paper we could find. My planes were like jets. They fly straight and fast but when they slow down, they nose down and drop like a rock. Someone made the perfect plane. It flew very slow and stable. It flew out about two or three blocks then turned slowly and came back. It crashed into the hotel and had only dropped about four stories. We were all impressed and excited. All attempts to duplicate this were doomed and ended in failure. That big success buoyed up our spirits. What next? Someone suggested a card game. I had brought a deck of cards. We went to the front lobby desk and a group of pilgrims from the East were arriving – about the size of our group. We said we were about to play cards. Several of them expressed interest, it seemed like they wanted to learn the game we played. We found the designated room. The table was slightly too long but we decided to make do. We dealt the cards for Hearts. As we started to play some of the male Persians showed up and stood behind us around the room. After we played a hand, the most distinguished gentleman of their group spoke up. He said we have a game similar to the one you are playing. If you let me sit in I would be happy to show it to you. The man reminded me somewhat of Hand of the Cause Mr. Khadem. So out of deference I volunteered to let him take my place. He tried to teach the other guys his game which seemed nothing like Hearts. He suggested it might make it clearer if another of his group sat in. This progressed until there were four Persians playing their game and we were minus our deck of cards. We had been fooled big time! We had differing opinions about what had happened, but we agreed that we had to confront the Persians. When we did they laughed, said they saw it was a way to get to know each or some other nonsense. We suggested we might see the humor when we got our cards back. Then someone came to tell us to get some sleep, a bus would pick up our group to go to Jerusalem in the morning. Rudy and I were not at all tired so we decided to take a walk. The sea was like a block away. There was a walkway but it was big enough for a car. We walked a couple of blocks through a kind of open space. We were coming to an area that looked and sounded like a row of bars. We decided we weren’t in the mood for Israeli drunks. The ocean air had already done us good, so we went back to the hotel to get some sleep.

The next morning after breakfast we rejoined the ladies and boarded a bus to Jerusalem. The road to Jerusalem was uphill all the way. I remember there were old trucks abandoned some distance off the highway. Some flatbeds, some looked like C cab model Ts from 1924-1927. They had been left after some war. Some had been painted bright colors. My guess was to keep them from totally rusting away. At every crossroad there were signs pointing down the road to a mountain or to some historic site. Mt. Zion was very popular. At a place there would be a sign, Mt. Zion to the right in several miles there would be another Mt. Zion sign to the left. If all these signs were true there must be four or five Mt. Zions. When we got close to Jerusalem we left off the main highway, went about a quarter mile and turned into a large filling station – convenience store. The driver pulled up to the front of the store and said, “Everybody out”. When I stepped off, I was amazed. The sound of Elvis Pressley was blasting out from everywhere. Over on the south side was a rather large white statue of Elvis, probably of marble. I stood dumbfounded. When I was finally able to move I realized that a large part of our group could not care less about Elvis and had already gone inside to look for restrooms. Inside were pictures, posters, paintings, movies, anything I could think of about Elvis. They said it was the largest collection of Elvis Pressley memorabilia in the world outside the United States. Almost an hour we were back on the bus. Short time we were in the west side of New Jerusalem. Almost immediately pulled into a nice, newer looking hotel, the Regina West. The bus driver got off, someone met him, they talked it over, he got back on the bus, wrong hotel. We wandered through areas that seemed to be gradually deteriorating. We were getting closer to the old city. We stopped at a like street front hotel, the Regina East. The bus driver got off and shortly came back and announced this was it. Welcome, come in! We got our luggage and checked into the rooms. There was nothing planned, it was early afternoon, so most of us met in the lobby. The only place to go seemed to be the Old City which was only a block or so away. Out of the eighteen or so of us, there must have been at least twelve in our group, including the 90 year old lady and her companion. As we made our way to the North Gate we are approached by a young Arab guy, I’ll call him Ahmad Amad. He said he wanted to be our guide. I for one could not afford it. He said he wanted to practice learning English. He would show us things we would not know about for no charge. We discussed and were about equally divided as whether to stay or go. Now we arrived at one of the gates at the North wall. We went in along with Ahmad Amad. He suggested moving toward the East Wall. There was another gate with no one near it. We headed south to another gate that was bricked up. This was the East Gate. Tradition has it that when Christ returns, he will pass through the East Gate. Ahmad said since it was bricked up it was strong and we could climb on top of it. I did. On the other side a hill sloped down to a black road. On this hillside was an old cemetery Ahmad said, he thought it was Jewish. The road ran through the Hedron Valley. Look up to the left was the top of the Mt of Olives behind that were what looked to be brand new condominiums. Down the hill to the right was what appeared to be a large metal structure,, thirty or forty feet long and ten feet high. A six foot wide trench had been dug around it on three sides. The front faced the street. It was a tomb. I think it was one of David’s son’s, Rihabom. Looking on the East through the cemetery down the hill, driveway across the street, a little away from the road was the Garden of Gethsemane. Inside the Gate was the Via Delorosa or the Way of the Cross.

We left the East Gate on a path outside the East Wall. We could not see the top of the Mosque of Omar on the other side of the wall. We turned the corner and proceeded along the south wall. There was a gully with a path on the north side next to the wall. On the west side the gully was a hill with several pipes coming out of the ground link a bunch of large Bunson burners each periodically spurting a flame. This place is named Gehenna. It is mentioned in the Bible as a place where trash is thrown and fires are kept burning to purify the air. It is a symbol for Hell! So I guess I can say I have been through Hell! It was listed in an astrology book in a quote, “Whether down to Gehenna or up to the throne, he travels fastest who travels alone.” I have looked up several of the references and could not find the name Gehenna used, it is always Hell.

After passing Gehenna and before going through the next gate or door Ahmad, our guide stopped us and declared it was time to part company.