Greenhorns! 1954 style.
By the Old Coot, Merlin Lessler
It’s that time of year again. Back to school time. It’s a
big deal when you’re going to a new school. That was the case 60 years ago for
me and the rest of my sixth grade, Longfellow Elementary School graduating
class. We were swimming out of our little pond on Binghamton’s south side and
merging with the graduates of seven other neighborhood schools around the city
in the big pond at West Junior High School. It was a short journey in miles,
but socially, it was a continent away.
My friend Woody (Walls) and I
were conned into spending our summer vacation as indentured servants to Woody’s
older brother, Stewie, and his friend, Vincent DiStaphano in return for their
protection when we faced greenhorn hazing on the bus that would pick us up at
our old neighborhood school and take us to “West.” Woody and I witnessed this
ritual every September from a safe vantage point on the playground next to the
bus stop. We watched the greenhorns board the bus, spiffed up in new school
clothes, relaxed and cocky. We peeked into the windows and saw upper classmen
shove them like rag dolls to the back of the bus as it pulled away from the
curb. We also saw them at the end of the school day, the last kids to totter
off the bus, hair mussed, shirts pulled out or turned around backwards, and a
look on their face signaling terror and defeat. Yes, we knew what to expect,
and bought into the salvation offered by Stewey and Vinnie, hook, line and
sinker.
We spent that entire summer of
1954 as lackeys, running to the store for bottles of soda and a candy bars,
doing yard chores, washing family cars, shagging fly balls. Whatever Stewie and
Vinnie asked, we did! We were the lowest of the low in the neighborhood pecking
order that summer, but it was worth it if it would save us from the greenhorn
massacre awaiting us in September.
I'll never forget that 1st
day of school in the fall of 1954, the day we left behind our safe playground
at Longfellow to board the Junior High bus for the first time. Woody and I hung
back at the bus stop with our protectors, waiting for the doors on bus #1 to
open. Our nervous classmates must have wondered why we were so calm, in light
of the pending doom that awaited us on the bus. The doors opened; Stewey and
Vinnie scrambled over to bus # 2 and yelled, "See you later,
Suckers!"
We looked at each other in
disbelief, and then over at Denzel Kelly, the Longfellow bully we were leaving
behind. He stood on the playground grinning, as his older brother, Chuck,
grasped our carefully combed hair and dragged us to the back of the bus,
laughing and cackling, "This way, girls! I've been expecting you." We
were pushed, shoved and mussed up right along with the rest of the freshman
class, made to stand at attention, to respond with "Sir, yes sir," to
endure being called sissies, babies and girls by Chuck and his gang of junior
high bullies.
This went on for a week or more,
coming to an end when the upperclassmen got bored and found more pleasure in
singing derogatory songs to the bus driver, like, “We love our little driver,
yes we do, yes we do. Oh we love our little driver, yes in a pigs rear end we
do!”
There was one student for whom
the greenhorn ritual didn’t come to an end, Earl Landon. He could yodel. So,
everyday he was forced to stand in the aisle on the bus and perform. He did it all through our junior high years,
yodeling his way to and from school most every day. If it weren’t for him, it
probably would have been Woody and me in the aisle, playing our band
instruments. Woody his clarinet and me, my French horn. Thank you Earl! The
whole thing taught me a valuable life lesson. Never duck out on your fate. Face
the music; it will cause less pain in the long run.
Footnote #1
- Denzel ultimately transformed from
school bully to south side good-guy. He even saved me from a beating late one
night when I was walking home alone and was grabbed by some members of a west
side gang. He happened by, just as things were getting rough and charged into
the fray like a knight on a white horse.
Footnote #2
- I reminded Stu Walls of this incident
at an AZ reunion this summer, but he disagrees with my memory of that summer of
1954. He claims it would have been much worse for Woody and me if he and Vinnie
hadn’t protected us. He’s made the same claim for 60 years and I still don’t
buy it.
Footnote #3 –
Earl Landon died in February 2012. A good guy! A Longfellow classmate I’ll
never forget.
Woody, Top picture, top row 2nd from left.
Me, bottom picture center of row 2 (bow tie and all)
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