Ring number three.
When I was a senior in high school I joined the local junior achievement program. My friend, Bill, and I went to the organizational meeting in the fall of 1964. Several new junior achievement companies were formed that night. Students from high schools throughout Oakland County were invited to attend. I believe that we were randomly assigned to groups as we arrived. In any case, Bill and I were assigned to a company that was composed of students from Royal Oak, Berkley, Ferndale, Troy and a couple of girls from Birmingham.
The second week of the program we had an election of officers. Bill and the two Birmingham girls supported me and I became president of our company. And if my memory is correct, Bill was the vice president, one of the Birmingham girls (the cutest one) was secretary and a guy from Troy became treasurer. The advisors for our company were engineers with Chrysler. We spent the year studying how businesses function.
After electing officers, the next step in the process was to sell stock in our company so that we had revenue to fund our business model. Stock sold for $1.00 a share. We used the money to purchase supplies to manufacture our product, developed a manufacturing schedule for our customized “potato chip and chip dip holder” that had been developed by the Chrysler engineers, and established a pay scale for the employees of our company. (In the end everyone waived their right to a wage.) I also started dating the cute Birmingham girl.
Near the end of the year all of the presidents from the area’s junior achievement companies were invited to appear on the television show called “Swingin Time”. Robin Seymour was the host. The show broadcasted live from Windsor, Canada and was the local version of Dick Clark’s American Bandstand.
The Birmingham girl and I were dating exclusively by now so the two of us drove to Windsor for the afternoon show. We told all of our friends and family to tune in. They did.
We were a part of a slow dance contest during the show. My Birmingham girl wanted to wear my class ring on television so I gave it to her. As we danced she whispered in my ear, “Do something special.” I really didn’t have anything “special” to offer as my dance moves were limited, but I managed to throw in an extra turn or two. When the song was over the audience voted for a winning couple and Robin Seymour stepped forward to declare us the winners! We had hit the big time. A cute girl from Birmingham and a recent grad from Royal Oak had won an international dance contest.
Robin asked us a couple of questions. The interview went something like this.
Robin: “Well congratulations on winning our contest! This is truly exciting!”
Birmingham girl: “Thank you.”
Me: “Thanks”
Robin: “I understand that you two were involved in the junior achievement program this past year. Is that correct?”
Birmingham girl: “Yes”
Me: “Yes”
Robin: “What product did your company produce?”
Since I was the company president I took the lead for the balance of the interview.
Me: “Potato chip and chip dip holders.”
Robin: Did your company make any money?
Me: “A little.” (I lied. We hadn’t made any money at all. We returned about 78 cents to everyone who invested $1.00 in our company, and I didn’t want to look bad on television.)
Robin: “Well, that’s wonderful. I think that junior achievement is a great program. I’m very happy that you two were able to join us today. And congratulations again for winning our dance contest.”
Audience applauds!!! Hysteria breaks out in homes on both sides of the Detroit River. We are International TV personalities!!!
After the show we drove to Ted’s for dinner. In the 60’s anybody who was anybody in Oakland County – heck throughout the country for that matter – knew about Ted’s and the Totem Pole. Ted’s was on the north end and The Totem Pole was on the south end of Woodward Avenue. Teens from everywhere gathered on the most famous thirteen miles of road in the country. On this night, the strip belonged to two dance sensations. Most of the time we drove from one end of the strip to the other through the parking lots of the two gathering places, but this night was for celebrating, so the Birmingham girl and I went inside.
We ate and talked of our triumph. For a few hours I was on top of the world. I expect my Birmingham girl was too. After dinner we stopped in to the restrooms. It took several minutes for her to reappear. She had a panicked look in her eyes when she asked, “Do you have a comb?”
“Yes”
“Give it to me. I dropped your ring down the sink and I need to get it out.”
My ring! Holy cow!
She was washing her hands and my size nine ring slipped off of her size six and a half finger.
I had never been in the woman’s rest room but that night I followed my Birmingham girl in and headed to one of a thousand sinks. (Women’s restrooms are way bigger than men’s.)
I looked down the drain, and sure enough, I saw my ring. The “stopper” for the sink was gone, so it was a clear shot down the drain. My ring was hanging on the little thingamajig that helps the stopper go up and down. It looked like if we could hook the ring with my comb, we could pull the ring out. It was my ring and my comb so I gave it a shot.
I hooked the ring without any problem. As I started to pull the ring up, the thingamajig got in the way, and the ring fell into the deep. Damn.
If I would have known then, what I know now, I would have gotten down on my hands and knees, loosened the connection, pulled the trap apart, and retrieved my ring. But I was eighteen and didn’t know anything about sink traps. I was a dancer, not a plumber. I assumed that the drain ran directly into a sewer line that fed into Oakland County’s Red Run Drain. All the toilet flushing that I heard around me would surely expedite the flow of water, and thus my ring, to the deepest part of the Oakland County sewer system.
My Birmingham girl and I headed out to the car without saying anything to anyone. We drove to her house where we were met by her mom and sister. We shared the story of the events of the day. When we got to the part about my ring in the sink drain my Birmingham girl’s sister said, “I’m going back there tomorrow with a plumber’s wrench, and I’ll get your ring.” It seems that older sisters knew about sink drains.
When she went back the following day, the restaurant people wouldn’t let her take the drain apart. She tried, but the ring was gone.
High school rings are funny things. They are important when you get them, but as you get older, you lose interest in them. When I went to Western that fall, no one wore their ring. We spoke of high school days, but looked forward to making new friends and sharing new adventures.
If I hadn’t lost that ring, it would be sitting in a box somewhere long forgotten. I wouldn’t have this story to share, and the memory of winning an international dance contest with my Birmingham girl wouldn’t be as special.
But if by chance you live in Oakland County and happen to stumble upon a gold, blue stoned, class ring from Royal Oak Dondero High School with the number “65” on one side, and the initials R.A.T. (Robert Allen Tebo), on the other, it’s mine.