Newsletter for alumni of The Abbey School, Mt. St. Benedict, Trinidad and Tobago, W.I.
Caracas, 16 February 2013 No. 589
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Dear
Friends,
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Mon, Sep 24, 2012 at 9:46 AM
RE: Aqualads - Perhaps from '67 - '69, Perhaps 1965??
From Glen
Mckoy
Hola
Hermanos,
Some
of you guys should remember this newspaper clipping; it may help with the facts
and real names,
I also
cc. Jimmy Samaroo, Johnny Garcia cousin, at my time on the mount they were the
best in the country, this was around 1968-70?
Cheers
and thank you for sharing,
Adios
Amigos,
Glen
McKoy.
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Local
swimming history in the making
By
Mervyn Marquez Sunday, November 2 2008
Today we
continue the series of articles on the history of swimming and water polo in
Trinidad and Tobago.
Immediately
following this landmark event, Trinidad was chosen as the venue for the 1960
West Indies Swimming and Water Polo Championships — for the first and only
time! Special mention must be made of the exceptionally hard work and
assistance given to the West Indies President Mervyn Marquez and Secretary John
Gatcliffe by Dave Barcant who always rendered yeoman service, Cecil Cipriani,
Victor Jardine and Phillip Hadeed.
In spite
of limited facilities the tournament was a great success.
The
swimming events were held at the Abbey School Pool, Mt St Benedict, which at
the time had become the headquarters for swimming in Trinidad.
This was
also the venue for the 1960 Island Championships and the first official times
were recorded!
The year
1959-1960 indeed saw local swimming history in the making.
In 1962,
the Trinidad and Tobago Olympic Association approved the selection of a water
polo team and a lone swimmer (Joey Kaufmann) as part of the official contingent
to the CAC Games in Jamaica – another first!
With the
breaking up of the Federation, followed by the independence of the former
British West Indies colonies (Jamaica, Trinidad, Barbados), no triangular
series or West Indies Swimming Championships were staged between 1962 and 1965.
The
series was revived in Barbados in April 1966 at a new 50-metre pool at North
Point Surf Resort, St Lucy, Barbados, featuring many junior age group swimmers
competing in open international competition for the first time.
There
was no competition in 1967 but Jamaica hosted the last triangular meet in 1968.
On both
these last two occasions Jamaica retained the overall championship.
This too
was the end of the early era in Trinidad and West Indies swimming history.
After
1962 a change in both organisations and venue saw an increased interest and
participation in swimming generally.
Following
a few keep-fit meets at night between the Piers at the Trinidad Yacht Club
organised by Gervais Rostant, younger swimmers began to show promise and a
regular monthly keep-fit meet at the 25-yard salt water Shorelands Hotel Pool
at Bayshore was organised by Joey Kaufmann and Mervyn Marquez between 1963 and
1965.
About
this time Gordon Borde began to emerge as one of this country’s senior
freestyle swimmers, excelling at all distances.
Old
stagers Samuel, Agard, Kaufmann, Davis, Jardine, Dash, Marquez continued to
compete occasionally but a new and younger brigade was fast taking over.
Most of
the credit for this must go to Joey Kaufmann who began to coach and pioneer age
group swimming in Trinidad.
The
formation of Joey’s Blue Dolphins Swim Club gave a fillip to the sport and
engendered healthy inter club rivalry which was shared in the ensuing years with
Country Club, St Mary’s College, Abbey School, Flying Fish, Marlins UWI, all of
which eventually either had or succeeded in having their own pools or training
and increasing the venues for competitive swimming.
Between
1963 and 1972 swimming – particularly among the age groupers – became so
popular the media often referred to swimming as Trinidad’s fastest growing
sport, with CIC Pool initially being the Mecca.
It would
be impossible in this article to list the numerous events and names of all
swimmers who participated over the years under review.
Top of
the list would have to be Geoffrey Ferreira who broke seven national records in
his first year in competitive swimming.
Geoffrey
went on to represent Trinidad at the Commonwealth Games in Canada and Scotland
and other top international meets.
He was
this country’s first Olympic swimmer competing in the Mexico (1968) and Germany
(Munich), (1972) Olympic Games, where he reached the semi- finals in the
butterfly, contesting for honours with the likes of Mark Spitz, arguably the
world’s greatest swimmer of all time.
Emanating
from age group competition were some of our top national swimmers of their
time: some of these included Richard Galt, Peter Laughlin, Johnny Littlepage,
Peter de la Rosa, Richard Knaggs, Randy Attin, the Santos Brothers – Chris and
Steve; the Ahloy Brothers, the Fahey Brothers – Roger and David; ‘Smiley’
Boland, Mike Perrin, Alan Date, Bruce Perreira, Rodney Bayne – to name but a
few of the growing list of those times.
Mention
must be made also of some of the first official Junior National Champions like
Brian Lewis and Roger Barcant who was the first and only Trinidadian to
represent the West Indies in the Junior Age group swimming. Later came George
Bovell and Richard Fernandes both of whom won ‘Sports Personality of the Year’.
Among
the girls, who had very much come into their own by this time, was our first
‘Queen of the Mermaids’ – Laura de Neef undisputed backstroke champion in her
day and the first female swimmer to win a medal for Trinidad at the CAC Games;
Jennifer Gatcliffe was the next top performer along with her twin sisters
Christine and Katherine and cousin Patricia ‘Patty’ Gatcliffe (now de la Rosa),
then Lorraine Boland, the Attin sisters, the Young sisters – the list goes on
and on.
Some
mention must be made of the birth of Masters Swimming.
In 1982,
at the invitation of Barbados, Joey Kaufmann, Gordon Borde and Mervyn Marquez
got together a small team of former top mermen to compete at the First
Caribbean Masters Meet to be staged at the Casurina Beach Resort Pool.
Thus was
formed the Trinity Masters group; spearheaded by Joey, Gordon and Mervyn the
rest of this first Trinidad Masters team included also veteran Lloyd ‘Reds’
Agard, the late Winston Questel, George Bovell, Geoffrey Ferreira, Esmond
Pouchet, Louis Martin – an all male affair. Masters swimming has since grown
considerably with more and more international participation by both male and
female competitors – with ladies threatening to eclipse the males.
Footnote:
This review was intended to cover the early pioneering years of Swimming in
Trinidad and to highlight a few of the first set of outstanding
events/performances, which left their mark in yesteryear. It is not a complete
history of the sport and apologies are extended for any omissions.
------------------------------------------------------------------------.
From: Nigel Boos
Sent: Sunday, September 23, 2012 11:56 PM
Since
we're on to the subject of athletics, I guess it's about time that I should share
this little story with you guys.
I'd
written it for my children (one of a number of such stories I'd done for them),
but you fellas will probably understand the scenario and "the way it
was" far better than my three.
Here
we go:
Nigel
LONG DISTANCE “RUNNER”
By Nigel Boos
If there was one thing I really
hated, it was running. I would walk, I would skate. I would swim. I would
hike. But I just did not like to run. I
was a hopeless athlete.
But, I had made a private promise
to myself, that I would represent my school in every sport that they had going,
even if I never won a trophy.
And I succeeded – to a point. I
played lawn tennis with a bit of success, but Roger “Nylon” Henderson, Mike
Herrera and Robert “Nanny Goat” de Verteuil somehow always managed to get the
better of me – most times. I played volleyball fairly well. My batting at
cricket was hopeless – I had a real fear of the hard ball striking me in the
face and breaking my glasses – because I wasn’t sure how my parents would ever
be able to buy me another pair. I was a reasonable medium-pace bowler. My long
legs were forever getting tangled up when I played football (“soccer” today).
But I excelled at swimming, and won a few medals for myself. But I dreaded the
thought of putting on shorts and stepping up to the starting line to race
another person.
It therefore took a lot out of me
to boldly announce to Brother Vincent, our Sports Master, one day in April 1960
as we took our Wednesday hike down to our sports field for the half-day
afternoon recess, “Brother Vince, I’d like to run in the upcoming Sports
Meeting”.
To which he correctly replied,
“Never! Not you, Nigel. I’ve never seen you run a race at all.”
Chastised, I decided to drop the
subject immediately. “OK. I’m going for a swim”.
The Annual Sports Meeting was to be
held within the next two weeks against
local athletic clubs at our Abbey School Sports Field, a sizeable piece
of land which had been bulldozed out of one of the lower foothills below the
Monastery itself. A few hundred visitors would be coming to see the races, the
javelin throwing (Ladislao was particularly good at that), the discus throwing,
the shot-putt (Joe Azar’s specialty), the high jump, the long jump, the pole
vault (Ladislao was also good at that), the relays, and then, the mighty long
distance race –the dreaded MILE.
Pablo Figuera, one of our
Venezuelan students, was the appointed long distance runner, and it was
rumoured that there were a few very good runners among the local boys. Every
Wednesday afternoon, every Saturday afternoon and every Sunday afternoon up to
that fateful day of the MILE, Pablo could be seen, all alone, doggedly slogging
his way around the hard-beaten earthen track, lap after lap, as he diligently
prepared for his day with Fate – the meeting of the Milers.
We all wished him well, and we all
checked his times as day after weary day, he attempted to beat his earlier
records. Ohhh, How he trained..…! Pablo was an inspiration through his
perspiration and we all looked on in pride as the Big Day moved steadily
closer.
In the meantime, I was enjoying my
swims in the appealing pool, completely oblivious to the strange demands of
Fate.
And then, Disaster struck! Hard!
Pablo came down with the flu or something, a day or two before the Sports
Meeting. The Abbey School would have no-one to represent the Abbey School at
the Mile Race.
But dear Brother Vincent had a
memory like that of an elephant. He remembered my earlier request to run a race
for the School, and so it was that he came up to me two days before the Sports
Day, and well, ummmmmm, basically told me that I was now on the Athletic Team,
as the sole representative for the Dreaded Mile.
“So, Nigel, you’re on the Team”, he
unwisely announced. “You’ll run the Mile”.
Never in my wildest dreams had I
considered the Mile to be my race of choice. I had thought that, perhaps, a
single 100-yards sprint which would be over in 13 seconds would be more to my
taste, and I could thereafter, in all honesty, hang a plaque or something, to
indicate that I had run a race on behalf of my School.
To be honest, even a decent 60-yard
sprint would have suited me just fine.
But a MILE …..?
“No way, Brother Vince. Not me. Ask
someone else.” My swimming times were decent enough but secretly, I wondered
how these would translate to seconds, or even minutes, if I were to agree to
his proposition.
“The trouble is, we have no one
else. Ladislao is already doing the pole vault and the javelin throw and the
discus and the . . . . .(I forget what else he was so good at, to be honest,
but there may have been more.) ‘Turtle Back’ (Richard Galt) is doing the
sprints. “Koki Joe” (Wayne Vincent Browne) is also doing the sprints and the
middle distance races.” And he continued to detail the merits of all the other
athletes in our School, to emphasize the point that in my age group, there was
no-one else he could even consider to become a member of the Team, at such
short notice.
“We need you”, he pleaded. “The
honour of the School is at stake.” How I wished it were a Swimming Regatta
instead, that was about to occur. How I longed for Pablo to get better. How I
hoped that Ladislao or “Turtle back” or “Koki Joe” or anybody else who had even
the remotest interest in running would volunteer.
But it was not to be. . . . .
. One never said “No” to Brother Vince.
I was on the Team. I was the Miler,
God help me.
And I had never in my entire life
run more than, perhaps 100 yards.
And the Day was upon us.
And my parents would be there to
see me run.
And the girls would be there too.
(It was important to make a decent impression upon these young ladies, it being
understood that the story of the Event would be broadcast among all the
eligible daughters of my parents’ friends, as they holidayed ‘down the Islands’
for some time thereafter.)
Oh the shame of it! How could I
have been so stupid as to suggest to Brother Vince that I be allowed to run a
race as the School’s representative?
To say that the boys greeted the
news of my inclusion on the Athletic Team with disgust would be an
understatement. They knew full well the distaste which I myself had for the
very THOUGHT of running a race. They avoided me like the plague, and wanted no
part of Brother Vincent’s “Plan To Include Nigel.”
On the other hand, I would be able
forevermore to honestly claim that I had REPRESENTED the School at Athletics.
And so it was that, on the Day of
the Sports Meeting, I borrowed Pablo’s running shoes and headed down the hill,
dressed in my long white trousers, white shirt, white ‘watchecongs’ (track
shoes of the day) and in my bag I carried my green St. Lawrence House shorts,
my white tee shirt and, like all the other Athletes, proudly wore my (borrowed)
running shoes, laces tied together, around my neck, like some recognized Badge
of Honour.
Everyone thought it a rather funny idea,
many laughed it off as a joke, but as I resolutely descended the slopes from
our mountaintop height, I considered myself privileged to be included as a
member of an Athletic team, alongside Ladislao, “Turtle Back”, “Koki Joe”,
David Bratt and so many others.
I could now die happy.
The parents had arrived and were
already sitting in the bleachers. The cars were all parked up and down the hill
alongside the Sports Field. The local teams from St. Augustine, Tunapuna,
Tacarigua, Barataria and so on had already assembled, and Excitement was in the
air. The Young Ladies were there too, nonchalantly sipping Cokes, nibbling on
snacks provided by the parents’ Committee, and of course, admiring the
Athletes. The Team had arrived!
I went over to greet my Mom and Dad
and my brothers and sister, and then, dutifully, reported to the March Past
assembly area, to get ready for our School Parade. I was, you see, the Bass
Drum Player in the Scout Band, which for the Day had become transformed, by the
mere exchange of clothing, into the School Marching Band.
The March past was really a
highlight of the Day. We strode out, chests held high, students today but
lawyers, doctors, chemists, accountants, businessmen, engineers of the future,
marching to the beat of the side drums, the boom-boom-boom of my bass drum, the
clashing of Stephen Clarke’s cymbals, and the bugle cry of the buglers, all led
by the tall, lanky, imposing drum-major Mike Howard, who, with his
silver-painted wooden mace, ably directed the boys, House by House, St.
Lawrence, St. Anthony and St. Francis through their drills, for the
entertainment of our visitors.
(I apologize in advance for my
failure to provide even a single photograph of St. Francis House. If anyone
reading this happens to have such a photograph, please send it to me and it’ll
be duly incorporated).
Mike Howard leading the School Marching Band
St. Anthony’s House
St. Lawrence House
St. Lawrence House
St. Anthony House
And so the Games began. The younger
boys competed first, in races of different lengths. The shot-putt was thrown,
the discus flew, the javelins went spearingly through the distant beyond, the
high jumpers jumped high, the long jumpers jumped long, the parents clapped,
the girls giggled, and I shuddered as I thought of the ordeal I would soon be
facing.
The tiny crowd loved it when
“Turtle Back” and “Koki Joe” battled for the honours. They were both excellent
athletes, strong and lithe and together with Ladislao, they drew most of the
attention and praise on that wonderful Day.
Everything went well for me, up to
that point. After the first-class march past Exhibition of our talents, event
succeeded event and slowly the Dreaded Mile drew ever closer and closer. My
heart began beating faster and faster as I slowly realized what I had agreed to
do. Some of these local boys were good. I had seen them stretching and running
on the spot, mostly bare-footed and fresh, awaiting their turn to shine. In the
meantime, I checked on Pablo’s running shoes and longed to go for a swim. I
wished that I didn’t have this incessant desire to go to the toilet and just
hide there until the event had passed, but I sat there, with the other boys,
and quietly said my prayers.
Eventually, eventually, the Big
Race arrived.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the
Mile Race. Will the runners please report to the starting line, for
instructions to be given by the Starter.”
I stood up bravely, if somewhat
unsteadily, balancing in Pablo’s running shoes, since I had never worn them
before this moment, other than for the few minutes when I had tried them on, in
his presence, in the dormitory where he lay dying of some stupid disease. I
hoped he was satisfied now. I hoped he was happy to see the mess into which his
damned influenza had thrust me.
Somehow, I made it to the starting
line. I didn’t notice at the time, but I was the only runner in the line-up
wearing running shoes. Everyone else was bare-footed!
I had seen the way that “Turtle
Back” and “Koki Joe” stooped down and fitted their shoes into the starting
blocks. Stretching their enormous muscles backwards as if they couldn’t wait to
get their sprints started. I admired their grace in running, their stamina,
their strength and their speed.
But I was not born to run.
The Starter gave his instructions
and we went to the starting line. The runners milled around for a moment and
then stood, arms bent, leaning over the line, ready to shoot off at the sound
of the starting pistol. Oblivious to this procedure, and totally ignorant of
the fact that mile runners do not use starting blocks, I had installed one for
myself and fitted my shoes into it in a firm position, stooping down to the
ground, arms straight to the ground, and looking forward towards the far
distant Finish Line, eight desperate laps ahead of me. I stretched my logs
backwards a la ‘Turtle Back’ and ‘Koki Joe’ and wondered whether the other
local boys were duly impressed.
I also wondered why the folks in
the bleachers were laughing their heads off.
BANGGGGG !!!!!
The shot rang out and I took off,
like a bat out of hell, leaving the rest of the runners in my wake as I
sprinted around Lap #1. The bleachers were alive with joy! The Abbey School had
a Miler !!!
The group of runners stuck
together, like glue, and steadily rounded the first bend, heading down the
back-stretch of Lap #1. They breathed hard and sweated much, and they ran as
one, bearing down on me as I began Lap #2, a few yards ahead.
My arms began to feel very heavy. They
dropped lower and I just couldn’t keep them up. They kept getting closer.
I panicked, closed my eyes for a
moment and shot ahead again, running for all I was worth. Around the
back-stretch of Lap #2, my arms completely failed me. They dropped almost to a
vertical position. My feet felt like rubber, and I wondered how much more of
this punishment I could take.
The runners behind me seemed to be
catching up to me, and FAST! I tried to move but I found myself bouncing rather
than running, my arms drooping like wet rags.
The first runner drew alongside and
somewhere, somehow, I managed to pull up my arms again as I passed the
bleachers, which suddenly had grown silent.
As I turned into the back end of
the second lap, my arms failed again and I slowed down.
The runners began to pass me – 1 –
2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – I lost count. They, on the other hand, ran with a certain sense
of timing and precision, each one pulling the others with him as it were,
working as a team, and slowly, with effort, moving ahead.
I nearly passed out!
Entering Lap #3, I decided that I’d
had it. I simply stopped running and collapsed. I would never be a runner, and
I’d proven it to myself.
I lay there, head spinning,
catching my breath and slowly sat upright as the runners rounded the fields
again and began Lap #4. I watched in amazement as they went into Lap #5, #6, #7
and then began sprinting to end the race at lap #8.
How did they do it?
I finished the day with an improved
sense of admiration for long-distance runners and wonder at the drive and
persistence that they had demonstrated in completing the Mile Race and in
winning the trophy.
I never did become an athlete.
But I did represent the Abbey
School that day!!!
By Nigel Boos - 23 September, 2012
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On 2012-09-23, at 7:40 PM, Attila GYURIS
wrote:
Yeah,
go for it!
Congratulations
in staying so healthy and vigorous.
I
myself ran and finished the Los Angeles Marathon 5 years ago, (in the middle of
the pack at 04: 34) .
That's
my claim to fame in the athletics dept.
I am
still running but enough of Marathons for a while.
Attila
Gyuris
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Sent: Sunday, September 23, 2012 2:49 PM
Go for
it, Peter.
I was
never one for any type of sports competition.
But, I
made myself a promise several years ago.
I am
going to die healthy.
I go
to the gym, or take part in a 6 mile walk with friends, three times a week.
Don
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Sent: Sunday, September 23, 2012 4:20 PM
Hi
all,
Yes
you are right on all so far. No 14 could be Johnny Garcia.
A
Swimming up date.
I have
been living in Sarasota Florida for the past 23 years.
In
January I joined the Sarasota masters team. I am in training to compete in the
Pan Am Masters games in June of 2013 which is being held in Sarasota.
I turn
69 in November.
The
training is very demanding but has been fantastic for my health and peace of
mind.
We
train 5 days a week from 6.30 am to 7.45am on the weekends I try and get in a 3
mile open swim.
I
start back in the Gym to do weigt training next week to increase my strength
and muscle density
Sincerely,
Peter
G. Laughlin, Broker Associate
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From: Don Mitchell [mailto:idmitch@anguillanet.com]
Sent: Saturday, September 22, 2012 8:38 PM
Hi
Josh,
Gordon
graduated from Mount in 1964.
For a
year or two after that he worked in Trinidad and remained a coach for Aqualads
until he left and went to Glasgow to pursue his engineering degree.
I
can’t figure out why he is so shy in identifying those who are as yet unnamed!
Don
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------.
From: JOESCHOE@aol.com
Sent: Saturday, September 22, 2012 9:51 PM
Attila
- #15 is Phillip Tetzelli - #16 is Phillip Wheating - the other names seem to
be correct - I do not remember the older boys - except for Gordon Mitchell –
I
think he was also a prefect at the time
Joe (Josh)
Schoemaker 1963-1969
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------.
9/22/2012 2:32:27 P.M. Pacific Daylight
Time, gyuris@yahoo.com writes:
In
case some of you you haven’t seen this one, here is another photo of the
Aqualads.
Swim
Team. circa 1965-1966 year time frame.
I am
sending two photos, one is higher resolution without names, the other has most
names but lower resolution.
Attila
Gyuris
Abbey
School 1964-1969
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------.
Sent: Saturday, September 22, 2012 3:26 PM
Gracias,
senor.
Here's
what we now have:
We're
in a debate at the moment as to ## 8 and 15, believing that they might be 2
Farah brothers (Frank and David).
What's
your opinion? And what year do you think this picture was taken?
Finally,
Peter, if you happen to have any photographs of the Aqualads in action, how
about scanning and sharing them with us?
Nigel
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On 2012-09-22, at 1:18 PM, Peter Laughlin
wrote:
Yes 9
is Gordon Mitchell, 5 is Gurley, 6 is Peter can’t remember his last name.
Peter
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Sent: Friday, September 21, 2012 9:21 PM
Thanks,
Peter.
#11 is
Josh Schoemaker, #12 is Attila Gyuris and #13 is a Cantore.
Could
#9 be Gordon Mitchell?
Nigel
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On 2012-09-21, at 12:01 PM, Peter Laughlin
wrote:
Nigel,
Yes
that’s me. ‘Teta” better known as Peter Laughlin.
Please
update my contact info.
Sincerely,
Peter
G. Laughlin, Broker Associate
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------.
Sent: Thursday, September 20, 2012 3:16 PM
Touche!
Let's
ask "Teta"
Over
to you, Peter. Do you think that you could be the chap listed in the photograph
as #1?
If so,
can you fill in any of the unknown names as well?
Nigel
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------.
On 2012-09-20, at 2:06 PM, Roger Gillezeau
wrote:
Nah.
Nigel that could never have been Bernard.
As far
as I can recall, he only got involved in coaching after he had graduated, which
would have been post ’68.
If
that picture was taken in ’64, Bernard would have been 13 or 14, and nobody was
going to be taking any instructions from him.
In my
opinion, a good candidate would be Peter “Teta” Laughlin who coached Aqualads
for a brief period around that time.
Young
Boxhead would know.
Also
Date got his date wrong. He deserted to CIC after the 1963 year along with
Alkins Correia and Ian D’Arcy.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------.
Sent: Thursday, 20 September 2012 07:41 AM
Thanks
for this, Alan.
You
may have a point, you know - maybe #1 is Bernard Lange.
It
would make sense, since, as someone has pointed out, there is a whistle hanging
from his neck, as would befit a Coach.
So,
unless anyone has an objection, I'm going to say that #1 must be Bernard Lange
(who died in 1994).
Nigel
------------------------------------------------------------------------.
From: JOESCHOE@aol.com
Sent: Saturday, September 22, 2012 9:51 PM
Attila
- #15 is Phillip Tetzelli - #16 is Phillip Wheating - the other names seem to
be correct - I do not remember the older boys - except for Gordon Mitchell - I
think he was also a prefect at the time
Joe (Josh)
Schoemaker 1963-1969
---------------------------------------------------------------------------.
From: Nigel Boos [mailto:nigelboos@eagles-wings.ca]
Sent: Thursday, 20 September 2012 07:41 AM
Thanks
for this, Alan.
You
may have a point, you know - maybe #1 is Bernard Lange.
It
would make sense, since, as someone has pointed out, there is a whistle hanging
from his neck, as would befit a Coach. So, unless anyone has an objection, I'm
going to say that #1 must be Bernard Lange (who died in 1994).
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------.
Ladislao Kertesz at kertesz11@yahoo.com,
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Photos:
11PD0004MSBEDI,
65AG0003AQUALADS, Latest photo
3008LK12FACEBOOK
52734LK12FACEBOOK
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