I hopped into Mr. Peabody’s Wayback Machine, fastened my seat belt and set the dial to the year “1959.”
The destination: the 50-year reunion of the Montevideo High School class of 1959 the evening of Oct. 24 held at the Clear Spring Homestead west of Dayton. I was invited to bring my stax of wax, pounds of sound – on compact disc, no turntables available – and provide background and dinner music for this festive occasion.
I experienced some initial technical difficulties with my sound equipment (don’t think the CD players liked to reproduce music that originally came from vinyl) but once ironed out, my remaining problem was lack of space to put the large speakers up on stands and to balance the sound amplification.
Montevideo High School closed in 1980, replaced by the new Spotswood High School the fall of the same year. The former Montevideo High School facility became Montevideo Middle School with Cub Run Elementary School, completed in 2008, nestled next to it.
Thirty-eight of the original 71 class members came. With spouses, total attendance numbered 62. Ten class members are deceased.
The class motto was, “Always Forward, Never Back.” The class colors were yellow and lavender and the class flower was the yellow rose.
Following a superb meal, served family style, Patricia Huffman Morris led the group in singing its class song, which began: “Here below the Massanutten, with its view sublime, stands our noble alma mater, glorious to define.”
The chorus: “Montevideo, Montevideo, school we love so dear, ever loyal, true and loving, faithful through the years.”
As I played a distinctive bagpipe rendition of “Amazing Grace” by the pipes and drums of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards, class members gave brief tributes to each deceased classmate and placed a yellow rose in a wooden cross crafted by class member Larry Smallwood of Bridgewater.
After Larry gave away some door prizes, I thanked the class for the honor of being part of their celebration and gave away copies of my “Friday Night Jukebox” and “Warped Records Show”:
– to the person who traveled the farthest distance to attend: Evangeline Good Shifflett from Myrtle Beach, S.C.;
– to the first person to correctly answer the question, what was the biggest-selling song of 1959 (no one knew, even after giving several strong hints, until I sang the opening lines, “Oh the shark bites with his teeth, dear” – “Mack the Knife” by Robert Walden Cossoto, aka Bobby Darin); the winner: Anne Hodges Smallwood.
– to a class member who is still working full time: Richard Shirey of Harrisonburg at Valley Blox.
No one could name the biggest film of 1959, winning an unprecedented 11 Academy Awards®, including “best picture,” until I said something about a spectacular chariot race – “Ben-Hur” starring Charlton Heston).
Maybe it was the many people shoehorned into one space, but the noise level went up considerably as the evening went on. At times, I wasn’t sure if I should just shut off the music that seemed to be eclipsed by the intensifying cacophony of voices. It appeared to this observer that people were having a good time, enjoying each other’s company, and no alcohol was needed to help break the ice, as it were.
“We were a rowdy group back in school,” declared class member Margie Hammer Mayes of Grottoes. “Because of that, they even put some restrictions on us for our senior trip to Washington, D.C.”
But looking over the past 50 years, “We’ve always been a friendly, cohesive group, looking out for each other,” Margie told me. “If anyone had a special need, someone would respond.
“I was impressed with the turnout and with the number of persons for whom this was their first time to attend,” Margie said. “We made special effort to contact every class member and were successful in reaching all but one.”
Margie is retired from her job in quality control at DuPont of Waynesboro, Va. She was mayor of Grottoes for six years.
Some time has been allotted for dancing, but lack of floor space squeezed that out of the program. But that didn’t stop several ladies from getting up and boogieing to “Great Balls of Fire” by Jerry Lee Lewis or several couples from finding a spot to slow dance, lost in the fifties again. (“Play something by the Platters – they’re the greatest,” one dapper gent said). I was glad to oblige with “The Great Pretender” and a personal favorite, “My Dream”).
As is often the case at class reunions, people started to really loosen up, congregate in small groups, laugh long and loudly and reflect on some of the more difficult issues they faced both then and now.
That’s about the time the last song of the evening was played as the Spaniels declared, “Goodnight, sweetheart, well, it’s time to go . . .” at least for another five years.
– Column by Jim Bishop
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