Off The Ropes: The Ron Lyle Story. Candace Toft

she didn't discriminate in her many acts of kindness.

      Pastor Sharon Lyle Dempsey, who has inherited her mother's missionary mantle, remembers her family as the center of the neighborhood. “It didn't matter if they belonged to the church. My mom and dad were there to help. Anybody who was sick or hungry or in trouble came to my parents, and they would figure out a way to make things better for everyone.” She continues, “Another thing you should know about Mom and Daddy: Their best friends were Jews, Hispanics, whoever they cared about. Race didn't matter to our family.”

      If Nellie was the missionary, William was the undisputed head of the family, the neighborhood, and the church he founded in Curtis Park. He was not only a minister, he held three other jobs the entire time his children were at home. One of his jobs was always custodial, though employers varied through the years. The best paying was as a vulcanizer at Gates Rubber, a skilled position in which he “made space on the tires for the tread.” And he always had a maintenance job at Burt Chevrolet, the dealership that evolved into the Burt Automotive Group where Bill, the oldest, was employed for decades before he retired as Burt Lincoln-Mercury sales manager.

      However many hours William put in at his jobs, he would spring into action when anyone in the neighborhood was in trouble. The family looks back and wonders when their father had time to sleep, let alone spend time with them. Says Sharon: “People we didn't even know would come to the house because they were in some kind of trouble—with the law or maybe they owed money. Dad and Mom would do what they could to help. And Dad was always running to the church day or night, sometimes praying all night long.”

      Bill remembers, though, that even with his dad's extra three jobs, the money was never quite enough. Nellie did manage to buy and cook enough food for all her children, but meals were mostly pinto beans, pig's feet, and pig's tails, with chicken sometimes on Sundays. Kenneth remembers hauling huge bags of sugar and other bulk items from the store, and they all remember the administration of cod liver oil twice a day, every day, every kid. They couldn't afford to get sick.

The Lyles lived within their means, but there was barely enough left over for extras. Clothes were always from Goodwill, and those went to the older children; the younger children almost always got hand-me-downs.

      They did have several vehicles through the years. Bill remembers an old Ford that they had to stop every six blocks to put water in the radiator. He and Ronnie had to get out and push the thing uphill, then jump in as it caught speed. Kenneth recalls a beat-up old truck they bought in 1957, and Karen says she will never forget “an ugly green ’54 station wagon.” Sharon remembers a big old Hudson and says there were more vehicles, too, because none of them lasted long. She adds, “But with all that came the lessons that got us through.”

      The Lyle children learned early on that everything was “God's will.” Before he was married, William had wanted to join the Navy but was rejected because an X-ray revealed a spot on his lung. He never in his life experienced any health problem with his lungs and always believed God had put the spot on that X-ray to save him for the church.

      Nellie was saved when she was eight years old. While William had a working experience with the secular world, Nellie never saw a movie or danced or went to a party. Under her influence, the Lyle kids were all taught that every word in the Bible was the literal truth. They adhered to a strict dress code, which included no jewelry, and the older boys were enlisted in enforcing the no-dating rules for the girls.

      “If a boy even looked at me,” Marilyn remembers, “Ronnie would get all over him to back off.”

      Sharon still talks about an evening with Donna and Raymond and Joyce when everyone else in the family was away. They had borrowed a turntable and some records, and with Joyce leading the way, they sang and played rock and roll songs for hours, until one of their neighbors called William at church. Their father rushed home and broke every record, one at a time, and returned the turntable that night. None of the children ever brought outside music into the house again.

      All of the brothers and sisters speak of trying to do what the Bible and their parents told them to do, and mostly, they succeeded. But sometimes those teachings conflicted with life in the projects.

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At age thirteen, Ronnie had already grown to five feet eleven inches and was acknowledged by everyone in the Lyle orbit as not only the tallest kid in the neighborhood, but also the strongest and most energetic. Springing into adolescence, he began to fill every one of his days with activity, from the time he woke up in the morning until he dropped into bed at night. He and his buddies attended Cole Junior High, but school had become more and more difficult for him, and he found much greater success, not to mention entertainment, in the neighborhood.

      Russ Perron remembers the “group of brothers” continuing to hang together during junior high school: “We would go to the Epworth Recreation Center on 31st between Arapahoe and Lawrence, just a short walk from the projects. We played basketball and messed around and talked to girls. Ron was the best at all three.”

      Most of Ronnie's friends represented the unique multiethnic culture of the district. Long before mixed marriages became a controversial issue among Denver activists, the boys took for granted each other's diverse parentage. Black mother, white father. Chicano mother, black father. None of that mattered to the “brothers.” What did matter was that Ronnie's mom expected good behavior from all of them.

      Family continued to be the major influence in Ronnie's life. As the two oldest boys, he and big brother Bill were expected to care for the younger children. They both felt responsible for their siblings’ welfare and took their obligations seriously. Tears in her eyes, Donna remembers, “Bill and Ronnie. They were the best. They took such good care of us.”

      The older brothers also assumed major responsibility for organizing the housekeeping chores. No one remembers oldest brother Bill ever getting into trouble, and today, he laughs about it. “I didn't have time. I was too busying keeping track of the others, especially Ronnie.”

When Bill was fourteen, he managed to get a job caddying at the Denver Country Club golf course, a prestigious club then and now, a meeting place for many of Denver's movers and shakers. He would get up early Saturday and Sunday mornings, signing into the caddy shack around 7:00 a.m., hoping to get in two rounds both days. Golfers started arriving about 8:00 a.m., but the caddies had to “go by the numbers”—that is, the lowest numbers assigned to the kids who had been working the longest. Bill still remembers he started at C149, but some of the caddies dropped out and, after he had been there a while, he worked his way into the letter A numbers and was getting two rounds in regularly. Bill might get as much as $36 a day including tips, good money for the time, especially for an adolescent, but “every nickel” went back to the family.

      After a few months, Bill thought Ronnie was old enough to caddy with him, and he managed to get his brother on at the club. He figured that not only would the extra money help at home but that caddying on weekends might keep Ronnie out of trouble.

      It worked for a while. Bill Connelly, the caddy master, took an interest in the Lyle brothers and steered some important members their way. Bill went out with then-governor Dan Thornton a few times and was soon picked to be his special caddy, sometimes even carrying double-bags for double-pay. Ronnie caddied for C. L. Patterson and R. W. Gordon, both wealthy businessmen, and later, he picked up Gerald Phipps, who ended up owning the Denver Broncos from 1961–1981. Connelly also worked out a deal for the boys to play for free up to thirty-six holes on Mondays.

      Prodded by Phillip, Ron tells about the day he lost that caddying job. One morning on the front nine, C. L. Patterson knocked his ball into the creek, a natural water hazard that also served to irrigate the golf course. Patterson told Ronnie to retrieve the ball from the creek, but Ron shook his head. The businessman then repeated the order to his caddy. He was to wade into the creek, reach down, find his ball, and bring it back to him.

      Ronnie said, “No, I won't. I don't want to get wet.”

      Patterson directed him a third time, “You will get my ball,” at which point Ronnie