Eight Ball in the Side Pocket

Mr. Cline had a good pool tale in his home and some Friday nights would invite some of us Grade 12 to his home to play pool. We would show up with our girlfriends and always had a good time.

Allan Marshall (1944), D.V.M.

Principal Morris Cline issued an open invitation to any of his students to use the pool table in his living room. In order for Morris to improve his own skill further, he often practiced making shots using just one hand. Morris allowed no gambling, but an insistent salesman badgered him into playing one game with stakes of a penny a point. During the game, Morris ran off a string of 28 consecutive balls before allowing his opponent to make a single shot. The salesman was glad that Morris hadn’t taken him up on the bet.

There were three pool halls then in downtown Orangeville, but Morris was always concerned with image. He thought being seen in a pool hall was not good for a student’s image, plus providing opportunities to get into trouble. When Morris suspected that students skipping classes were in a downtown pool hall, he would phone down to see who was where, then would send his secretary, Jean, downtown to escort the truants back to school.

Mr. Cline had a good pool table in his home and some Friday nights would invite some of us in Grade 13 to his home to play pool. We would show up with our girlfriends and always had a good time.

During the school year, Morris often billeted students in his house. One such student, John, met Morris at the front door as Morris tossed his briefcase onto the floor and announced, “I’m going to walk down to George Morrison’s pool hall to see what students are there.”

John scooted out the back door and cycled down to Morrison’s to warn his buddies, “You guys had better get out of here, Morris is on his way down!” John returned to his boarding house, and when Morris got back, the first question he asked John was, “Well, who was down there today?” Morris Cline was a difficult man to deceive.

Morris once took John with him to the seventh line of Amaranth, to collect sphagnum moss for insulation in the attic. When a family of squirrels took up residence in the moss in the attic, Morris grew tired of lying awake at night listening to the squirrels cavorting overhead.

He obtained several smoke bombs from Fendley’s Greenhouse, but not being content with a single bomb to drive the squirrels out of his attic, Morris set off four. The bombs ignited the moss, and the smoke bombs plus the smoldering sphagnum moss definitely drove out the squirrels, but also attracted the Orangeville Fire Department to the scene. As the firefighters attempted to contain the conflagration, Morris flitted around the outside of the house snapping photos of the action.

Since water from the fire department hoses was cascading down onto Morris’s precious pool table, he appealed to Murray Young to rush home for a tarp. Murray’s tarp prevented water damage to Morris’s pool table, but the water flowing off the tarp began to pool on the floor. Murray Young once again sprang to the rescue with his electric drill. The holes which Murray drilled in the floor allowed the water to drain away. Murray still can’t figure out why he was not electrocuted in the process.

In a table saw accident, Morris lost part of one finger. But in spite of having only four complete digits on one hand, as an accomplished pianist and organist, Morris’s flying fingers provided a constant source of entertainment, as he played the national anthem for school assemblies, and was a frequent entertainer at Rotary Club meetings.

For my anecdotes about Morris’s life, I’ve based my comments on my own past personal relationship with Morris, from conversations with several ex-students, two ex-secretaries, caretakers and Morris’s son, Jack.

Clare McCarthy (retired Department Head of Math) in The Orangeville Banner, Friday, October 31, 2008