Seniors, Autistic Teen in Loving Bond

By Corey Lyons
Contra Costa Newspapers
June 13, 1997

Trevor Gilmore slumps over a dining room chair in his Livermore home and stares at a spot on the floor that's probably never received such unwavering attention.

A moment later he is startled by a siren -- faint to everyone else in the room -- that wails somewhere in the city. Trevor promptly stuffs a finger in each ear to help muffle the sound.

But each morning at 7:10 sharp, the 17-year-old autistic boy is enthusiastic about the beginning of a long day, one that begins with a lengthy journey he could only make with the help of several Tri-Valley senior citizens.

For the past nine years, Trevor has been chauffeured to The Morgan Center in Palo Alto about 40 miles each way, 220 times a year by elderly men and women.

It has been an unlikely union but a surprisingly efficient one.

His parents, Ray and Sandy, were forced to seek travel accommodations for Trevor since both parents work full-time. They just wanted their son to get the best instruction possible, regardless of its distance from their Livermore home.

"We prefer an individual driver because it's usually someone who gets involved with Trevor, who gets close to him," said Ray, 51.

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Don Pemberton, a 64-year-old San Ramon resident, served as Trevor's personal escort to and from school from 1992 to 1996. He logged more than 400 trips.

"I kind of got attached to him, really," Pemberton said. "I always made sure there would be someone who could drive him if I couldn't."

Pemberton is a well-known Good Samaritan. That is why despite being paid $7.50 an hour and 26 cents a mile by the Livermore school district to joust with traffic. Pemberton provided his services to a mute, autistic boy he had never met.

Somehow, it worked.

"Unfortunately, I'm kind of a softy," he said. "But when I saw a lot of other kids like him, or even worse, at the school, I got a very different perspective on those kids in general.

"It didn't make much of an impact on me until I started driving."

Some of Pemberton's experiences with the boy were humorous, but mostly pleasant. There was one incident, however, that left Pemberton shivering.

"I was told he'd have some spells," Pemberton said. "He always carried a couple cookies and a cup of water. We got on the Sunol grade, heading north, and he started making loud, unusual noises. I knew something was wrong.

"So I handed him his water and he hollered, then he hit the roof of the car and threw the cup of water. I had hair raise on my arms. So I pulled over, started talking to him, telling him what a good boy he was and he calmed down."

The escorts understand they are subject to Trevor's occasionally erratic behavior. Ray and Sandy carefully screen each driver prior to the first day on the job and educate them on the symptoms of autism.

"Trevor is mildly to moderately autistic with various places in his development," said Dr. Bruce Gach, a physician at a Tri-Valley pediatric office. "He can understand commands and respond to them if he wishes."

He can also decide not to cooperate.

"He has boundaries that he has set for himself," Gach said. "They're unpredictable. But their unpredictability is predictable."

If a distant siren inhibits the boy, how does he endure the chaotic mess of heavy traffic, blaring horns, screeching vehicles and unusual faces?

"We feel there's a lot of pain, but he just can't tell us," Ray said.

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Trevor is mute. He has never uttered an audible word. Being autistic, he is impervious to his emotions and his reactions are immediate, for good or for bad.

Liam, an 18-year-old senior at Livermore High, is Trevor's older brother.

"I shared a room with him until I was about 12," Liam said. "I never really had any problems."

Liam is extremely close to Trevor. He can tell you Trevor's distinguished list of quirky passions: country music, his flannel jacket, plastic spatulas and serving spoons all of which helps potential drivers.

The Morgan Center a 50-student, nonprofit school is the lone institution for autistic students in the Bay Area that offers one-on-one instruction.

For the Gilmores, the commute was worth the hardship.

Since Trevor began attending The Morgan Center, 15 different drivers have taken him to school. Why does it work?

"I think he understands that these people like him," said Sandy, 52. "He understands that they become his friends."

That's because Trevor, despite never saying a word, wins one over with charisma. It, like most of his emotions, comes without a warning.

"He's got this really sweet, sly smile and he wins people over," Ray said. "He's got a lot of charm."

Trevor, like most autistic people, is high-strung. He has worn out the springs of several beds and barstool cushions by jumping on them.

But on each day of his commute, Trevor will curl up in the back seat, wrap himself in a blanket and fall into a tranquil state bordering on sleep. He will chomp on Kit Kat bars or graham crackers and drink cups of water to stay cool. He loves riding in automobiles and is an ideal passenger, quiet and well-composed.

But because of his autism -- a lifelong condition found in about 15 of every 10,000 births -- anything can happen at any moment.

"I just tell people to be prepared for anything," Sandy said.

Pete Andersen, 74, helped relieve Pemberton several times since July 1993. During one stretch, he drove Trevor to school for two straight weeks.

"He's very calm. He knows my vehicle very well. He'd go right up to it when I pulled up (after school) and he'd climb in and snap his belt on."

Said Sandy: "It would be very difficult for us to survive without these wonderful people helping out. There's no incentive for them to do it."