I had such trust in this gentleman when he was a teen.
In fact, the trust ran so deep that I asked him to emcee a pie-eating contest sponsored by the Sandpoint High Ponderettes Drill Team.
I advised the drill team for nine years. Before Title IX opened the door for girls sports, the group provided a popular extracurricular activity for girls at the school.
It was self-supported, so fundraisers were always a must to pay for uniform accessories and travel.
So, the pie-eating contest was a fundraiser and orchestrated well enough to include contestants from every homeroom at the school.
The event was held in the gym during noon hour. We brought newspapers to spread out and keep ingredients off from the precious gym floor.
Drill Team members were asked to bring cream pies.
If I recall correctly, the entry fees from homerooms were designated to help us raise some money.
Knowing that it would be good to have a highly responsible student help guide participants and to keep the situation controlled, I thought immediately of Kent Compton.
Wise (I thought), witty, and articulate and, of course, responsible, Kent would be the perfect emcee (I thought).
He had been a student in my English class and had served on the Monticola yearbook, so I had been around him enough to know that his talents would surely add a touch of class to the event.
Besides, anyone who played the cello in the school orchestra had to be a good kid, right?
Kent was thrilled to take on the assignment.
He did a nice job introducing the activity, stating the rules and signaling when it was time to eat cream pies.
More than 40 entrants had shown up and a whole lot more pies.
It began nicely enough.
That didn't last long.
For no apparent reason, some rule breaker among the eaters grabbed some cream from a pie and let loose on someone nearby.
Instant pandemonium broke out. Lemon, banana, chocolate and coconut cream fillings were being flung every which direction.
And, as my "solid" plan deteriorated with a creamy free-for-all throughout the gym, my chosen one forgot every reason I had chosen him to emcee this event, including the ultimate trust I had in him.
Suddenly, disciplined announcer turned to play by play color commentator, and, believe me, there was plenty of color for Kent to commentate.
And, so he gave it his all, and as he commentated, the action turned furious, so much so that a few teachers who happened to be observers turned into victims of cream pie assaults.
A group of faculty members standing by the coaches' office quickly retreated as a tight-knit unit of humanity toward the office door, the same door where Dick Sodorff, the principal, happened to have walked through a moment before to watch the action.
In my efforts to slow down the cream pie launchings which were now occurring all over the gym, I saw Dick Sodorff watching from that door, and he did not have a smile on his face.
Meanwhile, Kent's commentary, which included spot on assessments of how well some globs of pie had reached their targets, continued.
Eventually, probably because the fourth-period bell was about to ring, the chaos died down and the mess throughout the gym took the spotlight away from Kent and the participants.
As students went back to class, several Ponderettes and I worked fast and furious to remove paper and pie filling from the gym floor.
Later, I did my best to hide during my fourth-period prep period but that went south when Mr. Sodorff walked into the faculty room, stared or maybe glared at me and then asked, "Did you get it cleaned up?"
"Yes," I said.
"Good," he responded.
And, that was all my principal ever said about my pie-eating fundraising scheme that went sour. We also collected some money.
That was now more than 50 years ago.
Twas just yesterday that I heard the words "your teacher" uttered while I was taking pictures of Christmas items at Wal-Mart.
I looked around and there was Kent and his wife Cindy.
Lotta cream pies under the bridge since those days at good ol' SHS, and I must say that Kent's momentary irresponsibility in my eyes remained just that---momentary.
When all was said and done and I had NOT lost my teaching job, I thought he did a pretty good job calling the action in the gym that noon hour.
Heck, he should have gone into the field of sports commentary. I think he would have done well.
Kent and Cindy live over across the border in Montana where Cindy runs a craft shop at their home and Kent serves as a chauffeur for a private girls school.
I wonder if he ever tells his clients about the time he emceed the pie eating contest at SHS. I'm sure they would enjoy the story.
Anyway, it was great to see them and do a little catching up.
Had to add this as the last minute.
When I went to post on Facebook, the first image I saw was Kent Compton shaking hands with his classmate Kim Keaton.
Seems there was a pickup transaction between the classmates.
Kim retired as principal at the middle school, which was once Sandpoint High School, same place where the infamous pie-eating contest occurred.
I'm willing to believe that Kim may have been involved in the fracas or maybe just innocently eating his pie.
Title IX, enacted in the 1970s, did open the doors wide for girls sports and one of them is going strong at Sandpoint High School.
Willie's team has been named the Idaho 5A team of the month, an honor which is supported by Les Schwab Tires and the Idaho High School Activities Assoc.
Check out the story.
Congratulations, Bulldogs!
