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I know a lot of people will remember the Hillyard Booster Club. It
was at its height during the fifty's, and there were a lot of Rogers
graduates that were members of this club. A lot of us Cross Country
and Track Members were members. We had a Club House on the Second
floor of the Fire Station in Hillyard where we would meet every
Wednesday. Each year they would send four members to the Rose Bowl who
had secured the most points over the year for grades, club functions,
and selling the most famous world's chocolate. They still sell it
today I brought some from a student at Gary Middle School recently.
I had to sell a lot of chocolate The year I went to the Rose Bowl,
and one of the best places to sell was the old Hillyard High School,
which had become an apartment complex at that time, I think it still
is. My dad worked at the GN railroad, so I would take candy over there
for him to sell, so that really worked for me. I won the trip to
the Rose Bowl along with Wyatt Newman, Barry Robinson, and Bob Martin.
We were accompanied to the game by Art Blum's parents, and they were
such neat people that we really had a great time.
During school, to become a new member, you had to have a red patch
on your right knee that measured exactly 2" square, or a member
could give you a hack and then you had to give them a stick of gum if
they wanted one.
- Ken Kelling
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One of the more interesting characters who stood before us in our
classroom adventures was Mr. Lewis Sabo, biology teacher. He had that
chopped, uneven crewcut. Even though the crew cut was popular in our
high school era, his didn't have that perfectly even-planed flattop
look. He looked like he had an overgrown Army-style butch. He spoke
like an Army guy, although not using none of the "drill
sergeant" words. None of our teachers ever did, other than Coach
Tracy Walters who would occasionally use a tiny little
"damn" in one of his pep talks to the team, followed,
always, by "pardon my French."
Dual pictures will always be in my mind's photo album. One is of him
tossing a chalkboard eraser at some hapless sophomore (we were all
sophomores in biology) who chose to talk to his tablemate. We were
seated at those bulky-looking, black-topped science tables, two to a
table. Having a strong urge to chat or exchange gossip with our
seatmates, Mr. Sabo would interrupt his lecture and grab an eraser
from the chalk tray and accurately zing it at the culprit of illicit
speech on classroom time. I don't remember anyone getting beaned, but
the erasers would at least bounce off the top of the victim's table
and a cloud of chalkdust would rise in the air. We dared not laugh.
But I laugh now thinking about it.
Another memory was of my first high school field trip, with Mr. Sabo
as our guide. Not an exciting one. It was one of the first days of
school. The weather was typical Spokane sunny-bright and warm--a
perfect September day, too good to be back in school. Knowing that it
was too nice to be inside, and being creative to introduce us to the
excitement of biology, (a normally "yuck" class unless one
was medical-school bound, like our own resident class doctor and
president, Ray Miller), he announced that he we were going to go to a
nearby field to collect grasshoppers for dissection later. I don't
recall, but I'm sure the girls winced. Off we went, doing what we did
as little kids, capturing grasshoppers. "Hey! High school could
be fun after all," we thought.
On the way back, walking along Wellesley back to Rogers, John (name
withheld to avoid embarrassment) asked, "Mr. Sabo, are we going
to study snowflakes this year?" An innocent question, I thought,
and he was looking forward to more exciting things, I'm sure, in
biology. He had been captured, just what every teacher strives for.
"Snowflakes!" yelled Sabo. "Why would we study
snowflakes? This is a biology class! Biology is the study of living
things! What is living about a snowflake?" Some of us snickered,
but we all felt as humbled as poor John. To be 15 and embarrassed in
front of one's peers for asking a "stupid question,"
something that is a hidden fear in every student who ever sat in a
classroom, the reason for most of us habitually clamming up, is a fate
worse than death.
I wonder if after that poor John ever cracked the biology text with
any enthusiasm. But at his expense, and hopefully for his own
educational sake, those of us who were nearby sure learned the essence
of biology: the study of living things. And as lively as it may look
as it drifts downward in the wintertime, there ain't nothing living
about a snowflake. Mr. Sabo said so.
- Wyatt Newman |
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Another good time I remember is when all of us would pull our money
together and get gas for Wyatt Newman's car, and go to the Friday
night football to root for the team. We were called the harriers by
the newspaper during this time, and we were published in the paper
because we did a lot of loud yelling. It was a lot of fun ,and after
the game we would go to the Panda on Division, where I think everybody
else would go, I know we had some good football teams during this
time, and the school sprit was very high.
The "Big-R" contest: I remember, a Big-R on top of the
school roof, but like Ed said, I think the football field was the big
one. Does anyone out there remember the time they auctioned off the
Big Guys and, I think, the Big Gals? I think they went to a basketball
game and dinner, or something like that.
- Ken Kelling
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