The Stranger At Our House
From James Donahue’s Diary
Amid all of the chaos occurring during the summer of 1968 was the odd appearance of a young man from California named Ken McDonald. The Benton Harbor office sent him to South Haven to study bureau journalism under my tutoring. He sold himself as a journalism student and had been given summer employment with our newspaper.
In reality, Ken was a law student. We learned that much later. In spite of our busy lives, and the fact that we were in the process of putting on a centennial celebration, moving to a new job, trying to get a final house painting job completed and still serving as an volunteer fire fighter, Doris and I took him in, gave him Aaron’s upstairs bedroom, and put Aaron on the couch in the living room.
Ken was friendly, easy going, and little trouble to have around. He was even a good help when it came time to pack up and move. He was smart, good company, and we enjoyed having him as our guest. I took him with me on my rounds, and to local council meetings, let him write some of the stories we sent to Benton Harbor. He appeared to be a good student.
Doris, who has always had a sixth sense about things that are not just right, began noticing that Ken never seemed to need his clothes washed. There were other things about him that didn’t ring exactly true. One day when he was away, she went into his room and looked through his suitcases. They were filled with all new clothes, under ware and socks, still in the wrappers. It was as if he bought his wardrobe just for his visit to our home.
Ken drove an old worn-out car that blew a cloud of blue oil smoke every time he started the engine. It was such a worn-out piece of junk that we marveled that he got all the way from California to Michigan in it. He joked that his ambition was to drive it back to Los Angeles and then run it off the pier and into the Pacific Ocean when he got home. We don’t know if the car made it, but McDonald did. We later found his name among the practicing lawyers in California. I believe he may be the Kenneth McDonald who today heads the Lerner & McDonald's litigation department in Long Beach.
So what was his purpose, and why did he invade our home that summer? All that we know is that during the moving process, a box of Doris’ most precious items went missing. It included her wedding dress, personal things her grandmother had given to her and a scrap book with birth records, foot-prints, and locks of hair of our children. We later thought those locks of hair were what he was after. Did McDonald represent some high-up government organization that was interested in the DNA of our family?
Were we getting paranoid to think such a thing? Blame the mind of an active news reporter. We will probably never know his purpose. I mention Ken McDonald only because of the peculiarity surrounding his short time with us.
From James Donahue’s Diary
Amid all of the chaos occurring during the summer of 1968 was the odd appearance of a young man from California named Ken McDonald. The Benton Harbor office sent him to South Haven to study bureau journalism under my tutoring. He sold himself as a journalism student and had been given summer employment with our newspaper.
In reality, Ken was a law student. We learned that much later. In spite of our busy lives, and the fact that we were in the process of putting on a centennial celebration, moving to a new job, trying to get a final house painting job completed and still serving as an volunteer fire fighter, Doris and I took him in, gave him Aaron’s upstairs bedroom, and put Aaron on the couch in the living room.
Ken was friendly, easy going, and little trouble to have around. He was even a good help when it came time to pack up and move. He was smart, good company, and we enjoyed having him as our guest. I took him with me on my rounds, and to local council meetings, let him write some of the stories we sent to Benton Harbor. He appeared to be a good student.
Doris, who has always had a sixth sense about things that are not just right, began noticing that Ken never seemed to need his clothes washed. There were other things about him that didn’t ring exactly true. One day when he was away, she went into his room and looked through his suitcases. They were filled with all new clothes, under ware and socks, still in the wrappers. It was as if he bought his wardrobe just for his visit to our home.
Ken drove an old worn-out car that blew a cloud of blue oil smoke every time he started the engine. It was such a worn-out piece of junk that we marveled that he got all the way from California to Michigan in it. He joked that his ambition was to drive it back to Los Angeles and then run it off the pier and into the Pacific Ocean when he got home. We don’t know if the car made it, but McDonald did. We later found his name among the practicing lawyers in California. I believe he may be the Kenneth McDonald who today heads the Lerner & McDonald's litigation department in Long Beach.
So what was his purpose, and why did he invade our home that summer? All that we know is that during the moving process, a box of Doris’ most precious items went missing. It included her wedding dress, personal things her grandmother had given to her and a scrap book with birth records, foot-prints, and locks of hair of our children. We later thought those locks of hair were what he was after. Did McDonald represent some high-up government organization that was interested in the DNA of our family?
Were we getting paranoid to think such a thing? Blame the mind of an active news reporter. We will probably never know his purpose. I mention Ken McDonald only because of the peculiarity surrounding his short time with us.