I came quietly to Granite High School in 1936 and left as quietly in
1938. Granite in many ways was an
extension of Junior High School. I had few adjustment problems. The majority of the high school
students and teachers were Mormon.
Discipline problems were few.
Drug and alcohol problems simply did not exist. The school ran smoothly, and student
identification with it was high.
The majority of students did not bring cars to campus riding school
buses. During my three years at
Granite, I never held a position in student government, never ran for any
student office, and was never a member of any important social grouping. I confined my activities to the debate
and foreign language clubs.
Although a passive member of the student body, those three years at
Granite were important in my intellectual and social development.
I had little intellectual discipline during my Granite years. I did well in courses that I liked and
in those that were taught by charismatic teachers and did poorly in boring
courses taught by unsympathetic or poor teachers. My grades constantly fluctuated from A to D, unlike the
grades of my sisters, Sarah and Virginia, that were always in the highest
range. Those teachers who
challenged my thinking, who obviously knew their subject matter, and who
reached out to their students conquered my loyalty. Conversely, I found it difficult to repress my attitude of
disdain for teachers who did not know their subjects or who were reluctant to
engage in dialogue with students.
Among my favorite teachers were Gertrude Reynolds, a tough English
teacher with a good sense of humor who taught me the rudiments of English;
Hazel Z. Smith, a Spanish teacher,
who developed in me a love of the Spanish language and of Spanish-speaking
people; Myron N. Jorgensen who through his courses in Zoology and Botany almost
turned me into a naturalist; E.C. Bergeson, a debate coach and teacher who
taught me how to speak, and Ezra J. Poulson and Reed Thorpe who intensified my
interest in literature and in history.
These teachers took me seriously and forced me to take myself
seriously. They opened my eyes to
science, foreign languages, history, and to the complexities of the natural and
social world in which I lived.
During my high school years, I was deeply interested in and puzzled
by the demented world in which I lived.
The lingering depression troubled me. I could not understand why hunger and unemployment continued
to exist in the United States. As
a result, I became a follower of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt and a
member of the Democratic Party.
Actively searching for information, I established contact with members
of the Communist Party that at that time had an organization in Utah, but was
turned off their intellectual arrogance and claims to total truth. I was more favorably impressed by the
members of the Socialist Party and read much of their literature without
joining them. I strongly
identified with Republican Spain and with China. Although sympathetic to Germany because of the injustices of
the Verseilles Treaty, I was appalled by Hitler. I read everything I could find on World History, Economics,
International Affairs, and International geography. I became an internationalist scornful of the simplistic
American chauvinism characteristic of the adults around me. I educated myself more than I was
educated at Granite and learned that any individual could educate himself.
My mother continued to play the dominant role in my intellectual and
social development. Although
shocked at some of my temporary political or social opinions, she was always
willing to listen and discuss issues.
She was concerned over my slow social development, and therefore,
organized many parties for me.
Friends were always welcome, and they enjoyed coming to our home. Mother bought records, books, and
subscribed to magazines. She
wanted to develop in her children an interest in literature, music, and the
arts. Our home became a center for
neighborhood teenage activities.
Even though my father was away from home more than before, he was
interested in my intellectual and social development. He discussed many issues with his rather opinionated and
immature son. He made it a point
to take me with him when he could to regional church meetings. He introduced me to important people in
the state, and I accompanied him to political meetings. He always made the family car available
to me. If I were involved in an
accident, he paid the damages and after a mild lecture, let me use the car
again. I was always aware of the
full support and understanding that I received from my parents.
I did not begin dating until just before entering high school. I was quite shy toward girls, and my
mother was concerned about my apparent lack of interest in the female sex. One Friday afternoon, my sister, Sarah,
asked me if I would take a girl friend of hers to a school dance so that she
could double date with me. I
murmured that I did not know how to dance. Sarah led me down the basement stairs, put a record on the
phonograph, and quickly taught me to foxtrot and to waltz. Putting up one last defense, I wondered
if we could use the car. Mother
put the car at our disposal. So
off to the dance I went the next night.
I had so much fun that my shyness fell away.
I started to date a very attractive, fun-loving girl by the name of
Verda Dowsett. We went steady
during my freshman year. Although,
going steady was frowned upon by both church and community leaders, the
relationship provided security to socially insecure boys and girls. Going steady meant that the boy squired
the girl around school, accompanied her to school and church events, visited
her frequently, gave her small gifts, and took her out every weekend. Intimacies were restricted to necking
which stopped far short of sex.
My relationship with Verda lasted for about a year. We mutually agreed to shift our
attentions. She picked up with
Donald Selin, a very close friend, and I went steady with Ann Hendricksen, her
best friend. Another good friend,
Roland Thunell went steady with Irene Brinton, a good friend of Ann and
Verda. We three couples went
everywhere together for two years in high school. By the time I began my senior year, my circle of friends had
broadened to include many from other neighborhoods and communities than
Holladay. Although I continued to
date Ann, I no longer went steady.
I dated many other girls among whom I especially remember two: Mima Humphries and Harriet
Hinckley.
Dancing was an extremely important form of recreation. There were school or church dances at
least every other week. Although
dates were not required at the informal dances, I usually brought one. At informal dances, it was the practice
to dance unmolested during the first and last dance. Then any boy who desired could cut into a dancing couple and
dance off with the girl, to be cut in himself a few steps later. Everyone in attendance at the dance got
to dance with a large number of the other sex. One had many opportunities to try out a "line" and
to test oneself against the opposite sex.
Formal school or church dances came along every two or three
months. Normally one asked a girl
three or four months ahead of a formal dance. Before the dance, one arranged for a corsage and a box of
candy. If a group of friends were
going out to a restaurant after the dance, one arranged for that also. In one's best suit, on the night of the
dance, one called at the girl's home with corsage and candy in hand. The girl appeared in her formal gown
with her hair done up in a permanent.
Upon entering the dance hall, one received a dance card upon which
were entered the names of the boys with whom one had agreed to exchange
dances. Protocol dictated that the
boy should dance the first and last dances with the girl he brought, but should
have made arrangement with friends to exchange most of the other dances. After the dance, we went to a
restaurant or drive-in with several other couples and then to park and neck for
an hour before going home. In
those days, parents were apt to become angry if their daughter arrived home
much later than midnight.
The music was as important as the dancing. The 1930s and 1940s were the days of the big bands with
their famous directors, singers, and soloists. When a famous band came to Salt Lake City, I scraped up all
my money, made a date, and went to the Rainbow Randevu, the Old Mill, Lagoon,
or to Saltair. The most popular
dance was the foxtrot in its many variations, although other dances, such as
the tango, rumba, and conga came and went. The dance halls were filled with young people. When a famous singer or soloist
performed, the young people crowed up close to the bandstand and stood swaying
and listening. It seems to me that
the blues, jazz, and swing music of our time was far more subtle, complex, and
individualistic with its unpredictable improvisations than the harsh
simplistic, extremely rigid rock and roll.
Also, I enjoyed school athletics. Although I had ceased to be interested in becoming an athlete,
I attended with a date almost every football or basketball game for three
years. (Granite won the state
championship in basketball during my Freshman and Senior years). There were times when over 15 students
crowed into, on top of, or on the
hood and fenders of our car to attend the games. If Granite's team won the game, the Granite students in
attendance snake-danced through all the stores in downtown Salt Lake City
interfering with business. There
was little vandalism or disorderly conduct.
When my junior year came to an end, I found that my summer
activities in Holladay were suddenly interrupted. My father had secured for me a job on a United States Bureau
of Public Roads survey crew in the Cedar Breaks National Monument in Southern
Utah. My mother packed my bag, and
my father drove me down to the bus station. I felt rather lonely traveling down to Cedar City where I
boarded with a local family. As
the youngest member of the crew, I received a salary of 25 cents a day. It was my job to clear away vegetation
from the survey line and to pound survey stakes down to grade. I now remember little about my fellow
workers, except that one of them was an accountant who once told me, "Most
of the people in Cedar City are bankrupt, but they don't need me to tell them
that."
Toward the end of the survey season, I almost amputated my left
index finger with a double-bladed ax.
My finger remained bandaged a good part of my senior year. Much to my surprise, I received
government compensation until I could use my finger. I obtained enough money to finance my own clothing and
social activities; my friends watched me write checks with some fascination, as
I was the only member of my group with a checking account. Needless to say, my social status
improved.
Thus ended my high school years. At their end, I was more mature psychologically, socially,
and intellectually that I was at their beginning. I had become a tall, lean healthy young man with very
decided ideas about the world. I
was engaged in a serious program of reading in history and related social
sciences and in international affairs.
I still spent much of my time roaming around the mountains, fields, and
woods of Holladay. I had a large
circle of friends. I dated almost
every week; I enjoyed blues jazz, and swing, but discovered that I had an
unexpected liking for classical music.
Still strongly rooted in Mormon culture, I was quite parochial having
traveled little outside of Utah.
No comments:
Post a Comment