memories #6                                     

                                                           SCHOOL HOUSE LAW 

                                                               Hang um high

     We were now in our third house in a new sub division called Crestview..  It was located on a hill overlooking Durango.  A second sub division, down the hill, across the river and up another hill was called Riverview.  Durango was beginning to grow.

     Needham elementary was the second school I attended.  I was in the fourth grade with a Principal that was related to my first cousins, Zeke and Russell.  Russell was 10 years older than me and Zeke four years my senior.  We spent many summers at each others house.  Dot Stewart was the principal, a spinster that adored Russell and Zeke and deemed me the black sheep of the family.  

     Early that summer, before school started, Zeke and I were on the school grounds playing.  Rock throwing was a ritual of little boys growing up.  How far!  How high!  How fast!  And, of course, how accurate!  Anything served as a target.  A tree, a can, another bigger rock were all targets that wouldn’t rebound into trouble.  But some targets send bad vibrations if used.  Such targets were people, cars, animals and buildings.  The school gym became a target. Zeke, in an effort to impress his jock cousin ( me ) launched a rock through one of the windows.  To the loud noise of shattering glass, we ran.  Little did I know that Dot Stewart was working at the school.  Looking up, she saw me running but not Zeke.  Guess who got blamed for the window?  Accusations and phone calls were made.  Zeke denied any involvement.  (years later he would admit to the crime but Dot Stewart refused to believe him.)  My mother defended me and the two became adversaries for years.  

     When school started the thought of broken windows, Zeke and Dot Stewart were nothing but a memory.  I was making new friends and enjoying life.  The best activity at school was recess.  

     Inside each classroom were three or four closets.  These closets held coats, mittens, galoshes and sack lunches.  They were built along one wall at the back of the room.  The doors were about 6 feet high and four or 5 feet wide.  Each door had several hooks to hold coats.  Attached to the wall on the inside was a shelf about 5 feet high to hold  lunches etc.  Boots were stored on the floor below the shelf.  The closets weren’t designed to hold little boys on hooks.  

     Winter had arrived in the weather was miserable.  Most of us elected to stay inside one stormy day. (yes, it was a dark and stormy day).  A new game was invented: “hang the kid”!  We took turns lifting each other up and hanging them by the back of the shirt from the hook on the door.  When my turn came, someone shut the door.  I felt the wooden shelf squeeze against my neck.  With my air and blood passages closed, I passed out.  

     I awakened on the floor of the classroom.  My classmates were looking at me and the classroom teacher was asking questions.  I wasn’t listening.  Not because I was being defiant but because I wet my pants and was too embarrassed to pay attention.  I got up and, hand in hand with the teacher, was escorted to the principals office.  

     The teacher explained to Dot Stewart that the kids told her I had asked to be put on the hook and had instigated the entire affair.  Dot began to chew me out.  I refused to answer her questions.  She picked up the phone to call my mother.  With a wait and see attitude, she call my mother.  I haven’t done anything wrong and no one had asked for my side of the incident.

     My mother answered the phone.  Dot Stewart began to tell my mom the story of her brat kid and how I managed to get myself in trouble again.  I could tell my mother was arguing.  Dot’s face flushed!  She hung up the phone.  Neither of us spoke.  Mom came and picked me up, not talking to Dot or anyone else.  

     To this day I don’t know what was said between the two.  I do know that the rest of my stay at Needham school passed without incident.  Justice prevailed!  Dot Stewart no longer kept an eye on me but I know she still considered me the black sheep.