If you want to know anything about Russellville Park, just ask Ray Niehaus because after living here for 16 years, if he doesn't have the answer for you then you don't need to know the answer. For instance, ask Ray: Did the Overton dining room used to have a big circular coffee table in front of the fireplace that featured an album containing pictures of the residents? Ask him: Was there once a dance floor in one corner where the more agile residents would trip the light fantastic?
Ray: "Yes."
Hey, Clyde, guess the age of that guy over there reading The Oregonian in front of the elevator. Clyde: "I don't know, probably late 70s, early 80s." Sorry, Clyde, no cigar. Ray Niehaus was born in Quincy, Illinois in 1928. Do the math. After 13 years and starting his education in a Catholic elementary school, Ray's family moved to Portland, Oregon, where Ray entered Central Catholic High School.
As the heaviest running back on the football team (152 lbs.) he was given the role of fullback in the T formation where he struck terror in the minds of the linebackers of the opposing teams.. He also pitched for the Rams' baseball team. America was still fighting World War II in June of 1945 when Ray graduated six months before his 18th birthday. He had always wanted to learn to swim so instead of going to a local pool he joined the Coast Guard where the only water he ever experienced came from his daily shower.
After leaving the Coast Guard at the end of the war, Ray entered a seminary. After five and a half years he decided the cloistered life was not for him and he left. Some time later he called his brother and asked if he and his wife knew of any young ladies in the parish with whom he might become acquainted. They gave him two names: Mary and Prudy. Mary, an Italian beauty who might have been a clone of Gina Lollobrigida, also owned a car. Cry your eyes out, Prudy. Ray knew he had chosen well and soon the wedding bells were ringing. Years later, Mary accused Ray of pursuing her because of her car and Ray had to admit it didn't hurt. Their lives were brightened when Tori, Matt, and Mike came along. After retiring from teaching, Mary and Ray found their way to Russellville Park in 2005 where they had a happy 13 years together. Tori is a retired nurse and Ray says he could not have made it without her help.
His time in the seminary gave Ray a solid education in Latin and in his lifetime of teaching it became one of his subjects along with English and counseling. At Madison High School where he spent most of the teaching years he also coached Junior Varsity baseball One day a couple of boys were scuffling in the hall and Ray stepped in to break it up by putting his arms around their shoulders which resulted in all three of them tangled up on the floor. "Okay," Ray told himself, "That's it for me. Stopping fights is not in my pay grade."
Ray never had doubts about his choosing the classroom as his life's work and it gave him deep satisfaction to see his efforts light fires in young minds. Even when one of his Latin students raised his hand with a question after Ray had delivered a long explanation of a complicated grammatical construction. The student wanted to know how the Romans built roads. Ray couldn't speak for a minute or two wondering how the hell that kid got into a Latin class? The next week the kid was gone, still wondering about those roads. Once during a counseling session with a young lady who was transferring to Madison from Grant High School, she told Ray, "I want to come to Madison so I can get my shit together." Again, Ray says to himself, "Okaaaaaaaaaaaaa."
If you see Ray reading The Oregonian in front of the elevator and are curious about Roman chariot road construction, ask him. He'll enlighten you in Latin and tell you how wide to make the lanes. If you're just trying to get your stuff together, keep going.
