A Couple of Short Ones

by John B. Anderson

The Heating Plant – The high school, the junior high and the old gym were heated by a spectacular heating system. During my six years in junior high and high school, the boiler had only failed once, and that was the only day that school was closed. The huge steam boiler was heated by a gigantic furnace. A large hopper fed stoker coal into the furnace to keep the water hot at all times. Dick Berger and Joe Wood kept the hopper full, and kept all of us warm.

Certain teachers liked to hang out at the boiler room. Mr. Bonifas, Mr. Ebli and Mr. Reque stopped by to get the latest on the JV basketball team, and to catch a smoke between classes. I'm sure that other teachers who had the habit joined them.

The hot steam from the boiler was carried underground along the north side of the auditorium/study hall. There was a manhole cover along the way for maintenance access that seemed relatively secure – but not really. Another way to access the steam tunnel was to lift one of the student desks along the north side of the study hall. The tunnel was usually dark (how did I know this?).

With that backdrop, Bill and I had just finished a refreshing swim at the quarry one summer's evening. He and I were headed past the high school, on our way to the pool hall. As we walked past the back of the building, one of the windows of the East Room flew open, and Bob, Greg, and Ron crawled out. We asked, “What the hell are you guys doing?”

“We're not doing anything. We had late play practice.”

The next morning, Mr. Frederickson was greeted by the huge statue of Uranus, right at the door. The fire hose was wound up the railings of the down staircase. How in the world did all of that happen? By the way, where is the statue of Uranus, today?

Scar Tissue – At one of our class reunions, probably the fortieth of the forty-fifth, we gathered at the Elks Club to catch up. For some reason, Ron, Dick and I decided to compare scars. I had a good one from a car accident, due to the repair of my tibia plateau. Dick had a couple of good ones from surgeries. Ron had had a heart attack, so, as a result, had a long scar on his leg.

I exclaimed, “Gee, Ron, yours is longer than mine.”

“Always was, Andy.”

The party palace – Some winters, when it got really cold, Doc and Virginia would take off for Cuba, leaving the house to Pat and Mike. The Great Lakes ships on which Mike and his friends worked would pull into dry dock the first week in November. Mike, then, would invite Frank, Frank, Butch, Gerald, and a few others to party at his home, or even stay the night. These older boys were a lot of fun. We would engage them in poker, after they'd had a few, and we could finance our way through high school. Sometimes, we could even get a beer or two, but never enough to dull our poker skills.

Frank and Gloria were super nice to us younger boys. Frank let us take his new Packard for a spin one night, so were drove downtown looking for someone to race with, as the Packard was one fast car. Sometimes, the older boys would pick up some high school girls, and bring them to the house. That was always a treat to catch a glimpse of women in their underwear running around the upstairs.

One evening, we had nothing to do, so the other Frank volunteered to take us for a ride around town. We checked out the downtown, the evening Soo Line Train, and Frank started driving down to the ferry docks. The car ferry had just arrived from Lower Michigan. Mr. Case, my tenth grade English teacher, had just arrived on the ferry, and he was walking down the road toward town. Mr. Case rented a room from Mr. Cousineau, as Mr. Case's family was still downstate.

Frank said that we should give Mr. Case a ride, as it was a long way for him to walk to Mr. Cousineau's house. We pleaded with Frank not to do it, because Frank had a tendency to cuss a lot. Frank promised that he would watch his mouth, and he stopped and asked Mr. Case if he wanted a ride. Mr. Case got in the car, thanking Frank and us for picking him up.

Everything was fine, until a rabbit darted out in front of Frank's car.

“F**k!”

Nice going, Frank. Now, we're all going to flunk tenth grade English. As it turned out, Mr. Case was very forgiving.