In retrospect, John R. Rogers, in the latter half of the fifties, seems remarkably free of tragedy. Only now are our class of '60 classmates increasingly moving out of this world. I'm beginning to think the earlier lack of tragedgy is an anomaly, because the teen death issue was certainly covered by our music.
My late mother preceded me at Rogers. We even shared some teachers (including Mr. Purdy, who was a teacher during late 30's term at Rogers). Mom told me of a girl who sat down on the stairs in a stairwell and started screaming. The girl died of a brain hemorrhage ... right there ... inside Rogers.
I don't recall anything like this during our 1956-1960 tenure. Nobody died in a car accident. Nobody died of a gunshot wound. Nobody committed suicide. There was an in-memoriam page, in our 1956 Treasure Chest annual, for two girls who died the year before we started Rogers. Still, I don't believe anybody died during our four years.
I reared my familiy in a relatively properous, crime-free, safe region, yet my kids saw all of these things during their high school years. It is nearing graduation time here. I fully expect some seniors may soon die in a car wreck. It seems to happen every year here.
But in 1956-1960 at Rogers, we had little or no teen tragedy, yet we were bombarded with sappy popular music about the teen death subject. Often the music had corny spoken drivel that made me a bit ill. The following is my short list of the teen tragedy genre during our formative years:
“Last Kiss,” J. Frank Wilson and the Cavaliers. A car crash. He kisses her as she dies.
“There is Something on Your Mind,” part II, Bobby Marchan. She two-times him with his best friend. He shoots her. She forgives him with her dying breath.
“Running Bear,” Johnny Preston; written by the Big Bopper. The brave and princess are from warring tribes. They drown while swimming from opposite banks of the river to be together.
“Ebony Eyes,” Everly Brothers. She's flying in to marry the boy. The plane crashes.
“Leader of The Pack,” Shangri_Las. She fell for the leader of the pack. He drove too fast, leading the pack. She'll never forget him.
“Tell Laura I Love Her,” Ray Peterson. He dies in a car race trying to win money to buy her something nice.
“Teen Angel,” Mark Dinning. She goes back to the burning car crash to get his class ring. She doesn't make it.
“The Pickup,” Mark Dinnng. He won't date the town bad girl. She kills herself. End of story.
“Patches,” Dikey Lee. He wants to marry beneath his station in life. She commits suicide to save him the trouble. He wants to join her.
“Endless Sleep,” Jody Reynolds. This one actually averts tragedy. He jumps in and saves her from from suicide-by-drowning.
“I Want My Baby Back,” Jimmy Cross. This one is a sicko parody of the others where he digs her up to get her back. Complete with shovel sound effects. No kidding.
I can think of no such music today. Instead, the real thing occurs -- except no grave-robbing.
-Ed Mauget