For several years I thought this picture was taken at Whittier Elementary. Upon further examination, I realize it may not have been taken there. Some of the kids didn’t attend Whittier. They did attend Lincoln, but I’m not convinced the photo was taken there. Regardless of the location, I think it’s an end of the year celebration.
My mom snapped the picture and I believe she stuck my sister, Sharron, on the merry-go-round for safe keeping. She’s behind the boy in the front row with his legs crossed.
Tom Greenwood, the bared-chested lad out front, went on to become a prolific writer at the Detroit News. He’s still known for his keen observations. He grew a beard later in life to make up for his hairless child chest.
My friend, Mitch, is the other bare-chested lad. He’s standing on the merry-go-round. He and I did a million things together. Everything was legal, but not everything is suitable for printing.
Jim Poling is the bushy haired guy behind the girl with her hands on her hips. He lived on South Edgeworth, and I don’t believe the kids on South Edgeworth went to Whittier. Jim turned out the be one of the brightest kids in the class. He studied hard, kept his eye on the prize, and became a doctor.
Marjorie, of second grade spelling fame, is the dark-haired girl second from the left. She was in several of my elementary school classes. I can’t be sure, but I think she had a crush on me.
Dick Webb is behind Marjorie. He lived next to the National Food Store on the corner of 11 Mile and Stephenson Highway. Dick, Jim, and I ended up working at National during our last two years of high school. Dick became a Royal Oak policeman before moving to Wyoming.
I’m way in the back. I continue to watch from a distance.
Most of the faces look familiar, but the names are gone. I’m fairly certain this is one class, as class sizes back then often ran to thirty or more.
If you do a quick count, you’ll note the girls outnumber the boys two to one. The girls are all wearing dresses. That’s how things were back then. Girls wore dresses and “Mary Jane” or “saddle” shoes. Boys wore blue jeans and “tennis” or “gym” shoes. Most kept their shirts on all the time. The oldest child got new clothes, while the younger siblings got “hand me downs”. It paid to be first in line.
We lived in a trusting time. We trusted one another, and if anyone got out of line, somebody’s mother called them out. Every mom watched out for every kid. We walked to school or the park in packs and weren’t concerned with stranger danger. There were too many watchful eyes looking out for us. The streetlights and porch lights were the only alarms needed. Their synchronized appearance ruled each neighborhood, and if someone wandered outside safe boundaries, somebody’s mom ordered the intruder to “go home.”
At least two of the kids in the photo have passed. We lost Jim decades ago and Dick a few years back. Some still keep in touch, and luckily for me, a few read my blog.
TBC