Tonight we have come together to celebrate the forty fifth anniversary of our graduation from Clear Lake High School, the Class of 58. Actually it is more like a celebration of renewing acquaintanceships of anywhere from age 5 or even before for the next 58 years. Some of us have kept in touch over the years and that is great, some have died and that is sad, but your being here in what ever shape, condition or form doesn't matter. In the words of Buddy Holly "it really doesn't matter any more." I hope you will bear with me, I thought that remembering the days of our being together in through the music of the 50's would be fun because if you think about it the 50's were fun. And to me it had a lot to do with the music.
I do remember hearing about the caveat to high school teachers about the coming of our class. Almost Shakespearian "Beware the Class of 58". It was said more than once that the Class of 58 Clear Lake High School was predestined to be special. So that first day of classes in 1954 brought together some teachers, students and upper class men that would live out that special destiny. Friendships to last a lifetime and memories that will never die were forged over the next four years.
Actually some bonds were formed in the Junior High. That was when Lincoln School graduates invaded the venerable old building where those of us that lived north of Main Street had spent much of our lives being educated. That education included preparation of what to expect from the onslaught of the kids from Lincoln. Specials courses had to be set up to bring the Lincoln kids up to speed. Maps were made out in symbolic forms. Locks requiring keys replaced combination locks to help so the safe keeping of the books and other supplies was facilitated. English as second language teachers were hired and some of us were selected as guides. And some of 7th graders retained enough over the summer to help the rest. Obviously bussing was not instituted until later. But after a while it looked like everyone was on the same playing field. Actually some of us already knew each other through our parents' friendships and associations or from scouting and church experiences. Sometimes we ventured through the land of Lincoln as riding a bike to Bayside was reasonably safe if you stayed on South Shore Drive.
Every time I hear that old religious song line "Let my people go" I think back to the time I was walking home after a football game on the east side of 1st Street and Les Falk and I had our first conversation. He was on the west side and shouted across the street, "Tell that Stunkard to leave our women alone." I thought he said drunkard and didn't know who to tell. So Jack never got the message. We have become close friends even though Les and I had a minor skirmish in study hall one day but Mr. Dockum brought out the restroom privilege paddle and order was restored.
Remember the old song On a Bicycle Built for Two. I used to see Mr. Noble riding with his wife on one and he was always riding in back with his feet up on the frame. I tremble to think what would have happened if she would have had a rearview mirror.
For many of us it shaped our lives and now gives us this occasion to revisit those days. If we are here we made it. If not we salute those that have left us and they are at are at least here in our hearts and minds. Those that chose not to attend will miss what I think is an outstanding effort by some very sincere and dedicated girls pardon me, ladies that have worked so hard and deserve so much credit. They certainly will always have my admiration. Jackie, Marne, Janelle, Judy Lincicum.
We were born into a time of war but all of our years in high school were peaceful times, at least from a world point of view. America was at peace since the Korean Conflict and would not enter into any major world hostilities until the ill-fated involvement in Vietnam. Some of us would go on to face that debacle that killed 58,500 Americans. Their names are now on the Viet Nam Memorial Wall. As all wars do, the Viet Nam war has ruined the lives of so many others. The truth is that a lie that was told to us by of LBJ.
But that is not why we are here; we are here to remember our days together, recalling the successes and failures, the romances and heartaches of being teenagers in the 50's. I thought it might be fun to remember those days through the music of the times, Rock and Roll. I think that the 1950s maybe one of the best decades in American history. It certainly was a time when so much of the music had such a marked effect on our lives. Growing up near or living in Clear Lake was such a great place to have spent or misspent our youth.
I hope you understand that when I speak of Clear Lake I am speaking of not just the town but also the lake and the neighboring towns like Ventura and Mason City. The interactions of the people from these towns played a large part in the particular magic of growing up in that time and this place. I think some of our extended family from other classes and other towns are here tonight and if so please standup so that you might be recognized.
Clear Lake is unique. A tourist town that grows exponentially every summer with vacationers, cottage owners and visitors from such well known places as Des Moines and some not so well known places like Lisbon or Fairfield. Everyone representing a spice brought to and mixed in with the local ingredients fulfilling the recipe for fantastic summers filled with comedy, tragedy, romance, broken hearts and special moments we can recall tonight. All this happened while the adults and parents shook their heads in astonishment and dismay. Clear Lake is a town that grows from a few thousand people in May to over fifty thousand on the 4th of July.
It has been 10 years since our last formal reunion. But some of us have been carrying on the tradition on an informal basis every 4th of July. In fact it was only a few years ago that Mark was home, his folks had come back to visit family and friends and Mark and Ivy joined them in a cottage across from Methodist Camp. I remember the day of the parade. The tradition was to meet of the sidewalk in front of where Helene Bruns Bachelor lives on the Corner of Main and Clara Street. The parade itself was so captivating that it was extremely difficult to break away from the endless continuum of horses, marching bands, wagons loaded with country singers and every imaginable piece of farm machinery concocted since the advent of the tractor. But as always I got distracted. Usually it was a pretty girl or one of the guys putting their foot on my chair in Algebra class. This time it was Mark. He was sitting hunched over in a lawn chair with a blanket pulled up snuggly around his head like a shawl, giving the appearance of one much older than he was. "Hey Jim,' he said, 'someday we'll look like this". I reminded him in a recent conversation that that day may have arrived. Actually most of you look great and I see there are more of us than I expected. Not more people just more of us.
Our mini reunion continued after the parade by fighting our way to the VFW for a little light refreshment and conversation. Yes Jack, it was Coors. Mark, being the gracious host he has always been (more about that later) asked me to join him and his family and friends at his folks' cottage in Methodist Camp. Eager to see Claytus and Fern, his very nice parents, Shirley and I found our way out of the entanglement of cars and pedestrians and headed toward Methodist Camp. When we arrived Mark's dad had all the burgers broiling and we had a wonderful time eating and talking to people I had not seen for a long time. Linda, Mark's older sister was home and Janice Olsen from the Corner Drug days was also there as well as Max Clausen. I used to shovel Max's walks in the winter and party on his lakeside property in the summer. He obviously did not know about the latter. If metal ever becomes scarce I know where one can find an endless supply of beer cans. Anyway later in the day found Mark and I sitting in front of his folks' cottage having more refreshments. Telling each other the same old stories and jokes, which obviously we had forgotten, time and age does that to one or maybe it is just not paying attention.
In fact, Mark is the only person I know that has made a success out of telling and retelling the same story years later and then reminding his vast readership that he told them so. But I don't want to steal Mark's thunder, so he can tell you about that tomorrow night.
Again we found ourselves slumped down in lawn chairs doing what we always do when we get together. Draining as many beer cans as we can. At least now Mark can drink me under the table, in the old days he had to pour half a can out the window just to keep up. It must have been divine inspiration or just a strange simultaneous quirk of fate but the idea hit us at exactly at the same time. We were looking at the Methodist Camp lodge or more in particular the rather huge cobblestone and mortar monument to Methodism capped with of all things, a huge bell.
Glancing at each other through bloodshot eyes and formulating a devious plan in our minds, I think without uttering so much as a word we simultaneously rose from our chairs and as if driven by a ghost of years gone by and with all the stealth our age would allow we advanced on our objective, surveyed the area for guards and scaled that stone monument with the ease of two mountain goats that had been eating ditch weed for a week. I should interject here that Colonel Furleigh would have been proud of us. I, being as resourceful as ever had found a long a length of plastic twine and Mark secured it tightly to the bell. Then as quickly as we scaled the monument, displaying the same agility and stealth we descended. We had accomplished the most dangerous part of our mission. Quickly proceeding to the other end of the twine and with a huge display of awesome strength and patriotism we started the bell moving until it was properly ringing in the 4th of July. If you had been across the lake at city beach you could have heard the wonderful ringing.
After a few pulls and some old geezer, probably a descendent one of King George's Redcoats came screaming at us with all the wrath of Cornwallis himself. "Stop that noise we're having a meeting here". Not wanting to face a sure stoning Mark and I beat a hasty retreat back to the lawn chairs and more refreshments. That's not the end though; some equally patriotic kids took over for us and started the ringing again. By then Mark and I were enjoying the show from the security of our lawn chairs and I frankly can't remember if the old geezer came back. I suspect that the meeting was to decide the fate of Methodist Camp. Now the new condominiums are all that remains except the memories which will be here in our minds until "the twelfth of never and that's a long, long time" To my mind newer, bigger and better are words that were used to deny the kids of today the fun we had in the 50's. But I still remember on a dark and rainy night when Terry Sedelmeier and I made a midnight run to ring the bell and then hid under a couple of cars for what seemed an eternity, while a veritable lynch mob of Methodists searched in vain for us.
Like Bob Dylan sang "The Times They Are a Changin". Today the Methodist Camp including the bell is history and condos have taken over sprouting up like mushrooms almost overnight. Gone forever, down the same path to obscurity, are Bayside, the Corner Drug Store, Shady Beach, Gilles, the Park Hotel and the saddest thing of all Floyds Pastime including the famous railing, well-polished by some of the greatest fannies in Clear Lake's Good Ole Days.
Before I alienate anyone for saying the wrong thing let me say that over the years Jack, Les and Mark have become like the brothers I never had. I want you guys to know I will never forget you or your addresses. Think of it this way. September thru November is home for Hawkeye football. December is Christmas time. January thru March, that's three months of skiing in Colorado with Jack. April and May could be spent with Mark and Ivy in the Shenandoah Valley. That leaves summers in the Ozarks with Les and Maggie and a beautiful fall in the Shenandoah Valley with Mark and Ivy. Mid November thru most of December is open if anyone that lives in Florida or California needs a brother.
For those of you that are lovers of 50's music merely mentioning the Surf Ballroom in enough to give you a thrill and a shiver. Life surely did not begin and end there but it gave many of us a wonderful slice of the American Pie. It is a snapshot of a time and as they say, "a picture is worth a thousand words." Not a just a summertime picture but also a cold February night and an ill-fated plane ride. The song Miss American Pie says it better than I ever could "A long, long, time ago I can still remember how that music made me smile and if I had my chance that I could make those people dance and maybe they'd be happy for a while". But that was not really "the day the music died." Just three wonderful entertainers that gave the world endless hours of entertainment and even in their absence I for one am happy that they were here with us for a short while. As we all have lost friends from this class and will never forget them, they too live on in our hearts and minds. So to them I say to Buddy, Richie and JP "Thanks for the Memories and your music will never die."
With your indulgence I would like to take you all on a short tour down memory lane via what I call "That song reminds me of". It goes like this, we recall certain songs of the time that live in the depths of our minds and bring back memories, some good, some bad but all part of the days we lived them. It would be sort of a musical Rorschach test.
Does anyone remember dancing with Sandy Severson or Snookie Marshall to Johnny Mathis singing "Chances Are"? Some of you guys are smiling. How about Pat Boone singing "White Sport Coat"? That reminds me of a dream I had. I never really went to the prom, to shy I guess. But I did have a dream about being asked not only once but three times. All of which I turned down because I was such a gentleman. I started out as a good dream, Susan asks me to escort her to the senior prom and I said sure, such a pretty young lady how could I resist. Well then Mike Kellogg called me up and threatened to beat me to a pulp if I went out with Susan. So I agreed and had to tell Susan I was sorry but could not go. By the way, did any of you see Mike on ESPN? No, really? He and 300 of his buddies were trying to beat an elephant in pulling a 747 down a runway. Oh well, back to the dream, which was rapidly turning into a nightmare. After expressing my regrets to Susan how could I accept when Janelle called me and asked me too? Now it even gets worse, Jackie whom I knew since kindergarten called and guess what? I had to say now again. Fortunately it was all a dream and I opted to not even think about the prom. I think I went to the Hi Dive with Joe Roseland. We had been dating a couple of Mason City young ladies.
Another song was Silhouettes. You know "Took a walk past your house late last night, all the shads were pulled way down tight………. I am going to need some help with this one although I think I know the answer. First, who was it that climbed up the tree to the 2nd floor window outside of Ms. Friedman's apartment? Secondly and only you know, did she ever raise the shade?
Remember "La Bamba" by Richie Valens? This reminds me of Tom McBee and his endless battle to conquer Spanish. It had to do with not trilling his R's. As an example, ¿Usted tiene gusto de bailar conmigo a mi estimada muchacha? Which means, "Would you like to dance with me my dear girl"? Trilling is accomplished by placing the tongue against the pallet and rapidly repeating the letter R. "RRRRRRRRRRR" Legend has it that Tom later established a relationship with a young lady somewhere in the Caribbean and now gets his R's trilled regularly. Ah well Que Sera Sera. Harry would be proud of me for remembering after all these years. Of course I took 1st year Spanish two years in a row. The second year he separated Marlene and I to the back corners of the room on the stage used in speech class. Mark taught me a pat answer for all questions in Spanish. "Me maldecirán si sé." Meaning "I will be damned if I know."
An example although not his name in the 50's was Robert Allen Zimmerman, you may remember him as Bob Dylan and the song I remember is "The Times They are a Changing." Music as well as all places changes. Sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse, Clear Lake has seen those changes too. For the Class of 58 I suspect that the changes lean toward the worse. Gone is the Corner Drug Store with its' fantastic fountain, the famous Floyds Pastime Pool Hall fondly referred to as the Hole and the Lighthouse Drive-in to mention a few. Time has its way of wearing down the creations of mere mortals and then replacing them with something not quite as good. Also gone forever is the Ritz, the Holiday Lounge, Methodist Camp and its' magnificent bell. Ah well there still is the 4th of July Parade and the VFW. Bayside is a mere memory and the Park Hotel has been leveled. But take heart, you can have your name embossed for posterity in a paver and placed along the sidewalks of downtown.
Even the schools most of us attended are gone. The High School burned down and the Junior High was raised. Fortunately Lincoln School still stands in defiance of removing all of the memorable vestiges of the past, the institution that educated some of the more rowdy fellows in their early years before they came north to Junior High. Having the fear of Mr. Gorton seared on their brains for the remainder of their educational years they have done very well.
Unless someone has any other thing to say to the class I think it would be fun to play some musical trivia. So please mention a song from the 50's and lets see what memories that brings back. I do have a list of some oldies and will offer a couple of my memories or recollections to get started. I hope by now we have had a chance to get reacquainted and anyone that wants to share their stories is welcome. So wake Mark and Jack up and "Let the Good Times Roll".
By the way I did talk to Jim Furleigh's wife Mary last night Jim is teaching algebra in Fallbrook CA. He was headed to bed and they were not aware of the reunion. But they sent their best wishes to all of us. His phone number is 858 728 4021 and if my cell phone is charged up enough I will call him. Also Andy Melpolder lives in Gaithersburg MD and his wife was preparing for a bone marrow transplant, so keep her in your thoughts and prayers. I certainly will.
(Submitted by Jim Knapp)
