Note to reader: we invite your submission
about memories of your days at John Rogers or your feeder grade
school. Please email your word pictures of somebody or
something you remember to mauget@rogers60.com.
This month we have two memshots by Wyatt Newman ,
and Ed Mauget
That New Kid From Wichita
The usual Spring day early in the track season. The usual
warm-up, jogging around the track waiting for Coach Walters to get
done with the sprinters so we distance runners could do our usual
440s. The usual goofing off by Barry Robinson, Bob Martin and Ken
Kelling.
And then something unusual to break the routine: a new kid appeared
coming from the locker room. He just started jogging on the track
one the curve near Wellesley, where the 220 starting lines were.
Crew cut... hair as dark as an Indian ... heavy black, horned-rimmed
glasses. Most noticeable was that the kid was running holding up his
sweatpants, either because he didn't have them tied up or there was
no drawstring.
"Hey, Kid," one of us must have asked. "Where you
from?"
We took an instant liking to him. He was a bit shy, had a streak of
a possible rogue...sort of mischievous grin. He was extremely proud
to tell us that he was from "Wichita High School East!" He
would yell that name every time someone asked. I asked him several
times just to hear him say it.
He fit right in. The usual foursome of Ken "Pepe" Kelling,
Bob "Marty" Martin, "Sophomore" Barry Robinson
and me added our fifth man: Norm "Coop" Cooper.
He apparently led a somewhat wilder life in Wichita. Rode a
motorcycle, not commonly done by Spokane high school kids. Spoke of
taking cases of pop off pop trucks while in motion back in Wichita.
He settled down. Joined the Hillyard Booster Club. Became an officer
of the club. What anyone would call, "A really neat guy."
Although he's listed as an alum missing, he does live in Aloha,
Oregon.
- Wyatt Newman
Lockers
Does anybody remember how many minutes between the end bell of
one 1956 Rogers class and the start bell of the next? Was it six
minutes? It’s strange that I don’t remember that, but I remember
all sorts of stupid trivia about lockers.
Remember the color of our lockers? Army green. Did they make any
other color of locker in 1956? The little lockers in the boys’
locker room were that color also. I can’t speak for the girls’
lockers. Pink maybe? Naw...
I began 1956 with a half-height locker in the back hall near the
band room. I believe I shared it with Dick Mather, who sat next to
me in homeroom for four years. A half-size locker is too small for
two serious sets of books, especially when one of the owners is a
voracious reader. I’ll leave it to you to say which of us that
was. My lock combination for the entire four years was 27-37-10. It’s
safe to say it publicly now. Gary Mills once somehow got the
combination from me and ran up and down the back hall yelling “27-37-10
… 27-37-10 … 27-37-10.” I guess nobody cared or remembered
because I went four years without a theft. I can still thumb that
combination with one hand today, but nothing opens.
However much time we had between classes was not enough if your
locker was in the wrong place and you didn’t want to pack its
entire contents from class-to-class all day. That back hall was not
a strategic location for my set of classrooms. By the next year, I
obtained an almost full-height locker on the third floor near the
east stairwell. It was over a cold-air vent, so was not entirely
full-height. I did not have to share it with anyone – perhaps
because it was short. It was still larger than the back-hall locker
I shared with Mather. Many of my classes were to be near my new solo
locker for the remainder of the four years.
One Christmastime I remember an older guy standing by my locker
singing Silent Night at the top of his lungs. I thought singing of
silence at 120 decibels was a funny contradiction. The Sounds of
Silence would have been another good selection, but it wasn't
written yet.
In my senior year a cute junior girl had a locker one-or-two to the
left of mine. I found myself making large numbers of extra trips to
my locker. Nothing ever came of my interest, but I still hesitate to
name her.
It’s confession time. Once, a big guy repeatedly bullied me. I can’t
even remember who he was. I didn't get mad, I got even. I brewed a
nice batch of bromine in the chemistry lab and dumped it through the
vent of his locker. Bromine is an elemental orange fuming
fulminating bleach from Hell. Small concentrations are used to
purify swimming pools today. The bully’s locker smelled like a
laundry immediately. A few days later, Bob Parry and I happened to
observe the bully returning a book having a white blotchy cover to
the library. That book was supposed to have a dark blue or green
cover. I watched as the bully was fined. I felt vindicated and still
do. I hate bullies, and this was a rare payback. I’m only sorry
for ruining the book cover – public property at that.
My locker was like an old friend, but I don’t remember cleaning it
out at graduation. My gaze was forward. I turned my back on it like
little Jackie Paper abandoned Puff the Magic Dragon. I was going
into the World to seek my fortune like those young men in the fairy
tales.
The fairy tale has played out well, except I've encountered none
of the obligatory bowls of porridge. What IS porridge, anyway? Does
it come from bromine?
