Early Glendale School House

Many of the folks in Glendale remember the old grade school. I used to tell people it was almost as big as the White House. That two story concrete structure had columns as big as fir trees in the front stood majestically over two blocks of playground. It was built in the early part of this century before Glendale’s great fire of 1928. In fact Calvin Coolidge was just finishing his first four year term when the doors to the school first opened. For many years it served all grades through high school. By the time I started school there in 1951 it was only for grade school. The white board structure, commonly called the "chicken coup", along Mill Street was for high school and then junior high, when the high school moved across Cow Creek to its current location.

The building was not only ornate on the outside but inside it had high ceilings, hard wood floors and banisters throughout. To show you how high the ceilings were, the upper windows could only be closed with a long pole. Of course when ever there was a fire drill certain people were designated to close all of those windows before departing the room as the teacher would calmly announce, "Single file children. No pushing or shoving."

Looking closely, however, one could see it was build in an earlier era when indoor sports were less important. The tiny little gymnasium with a stage at one end had virtually no place for spectators. I guess in those days you either participated in sports or went home to help ma and pa around the farm.

I have many memories of that old school house but one personal favorite occurred one day that I was gazing out the window from a classroom on the second floor. As I looked beyond the ball field I saw a very fancy passenger train passing the crossing. "There goes the President's train," I proudly announced.

The teacher had us stop what we were doing and quickly said, "Oh, children go over to the window and look for yourselves." Then she turned to me and said, "I didn't know the President of the United States' train was coming by here today."

Where upon I said, "Oh it's not the President of the United States, it's the President of the Southern Pacific Railroad."

Dad had told me about the train coming through the night before. Needless to say, I received a stern lesson about when to say and not say, "The President".

I remember the heavy smell of this building from the thousands and thousands of coats of oily wax on all the wood surfaces that Mr. Winkleman had applied. When you started first grade in this school chances were pretty great that the people you met on that first day would be the same ones cheering you across the stage as you got your diploma twelve years later. In fact over 75% of the 28 students that I graduated with started when I did.

A few years after we graduated, that old grade school building was torn down. The war in Vietnam was long since over and a movie about the war called "Apocalypse Now" was expected to clean up with the Academy awards. In fact "Kramer-vs-Kramer" was the winner along with Dustin Hoffman for best actor in that movie.

Because the terrain in Southern Oregon is so hilly it was not surprising that the back and one side of the area where the school sat was bounded with a very steep red clay bank. When it rained, which it always does in Oregon, the bank became a shimmering slippery slope just waiting to ruin a clean pair of pants. I'm sure there were rules to keep people off that bank but judging from how often my mother got excited when I came home covered with mud, the rules didn't help much.

At the base of that red clay bank was a ditch that was often filled with water. It was only a couple of inches deep but there was sufficient water and moss to support a great colony of tadpoles, frogs and the occasional snake which would drop by for lunch.

The equipment on the playground was divided into two separate areas. The newer equipment like swings, basketball courts and tether ball for the older kids nearing the eighth grade and the slides, monkeybars, and merry-go-rounds for the younger ones.

When one studied the equipment for the younger kids you can see two separate periods of acquisition. There was only one teeter totter but there was two slides and two merry-go-rounds.

The newer slide was the biggest so everyone liked that. You

could take a piece of wax paper that your mom put in your lunch box and sit on it as you went sailing down that slide. Of course if you weren't careful you'd land in the puddle that was always located right where you stopped. That worked as well as the red clay bank for irritating mom.

While newer was better when it came to slides, it was not better when it came to merry-go-rounds. The newer merry-go-round was a cumbersome affair that was propelled by a complicated array of handles and foot pedals. The old merry-go-round was the gem of the entire playground. Here was elitism at its finest. It was propelled by hanging your foot off the side and kicking. The only limit was how hard and fast the people on it could kick. And they could kick.

Preparation for recess occur long before the bell. As the time neared it was like race horses lining up in the chutes. Books were surreptitiously put away. Lines of attack out of the room were determined. And glares were exchanged with other competitors in an effort to "rattle" them. And then it would happen. The bell. You bolted for the door as quickly as possible while not so quickly to call attention to yourself and have the teacher say, "You, return to your seat and leave in a normal manner." If that happened all would be lost for that recess. That is because those that got to the merry-go-round first would get it going so fast that few could get on without risking life and limb. And it would continue until the bell sounded ending recess.

One of my classmates calls that merry-go-round "ole killer". Here’s what he wrote about it:

Don't think anyone can forget "Ole Killer". This was the place most of us saw our first broken arm (bones) and MILES of ripped skin, torn cotton, a shoe ripped off the foot and lost in the science pond, all

the good things that a GOOD educational piece of equipment can provide. This is where most of us learned about centrifugal force and just how far you can fly because of it. I remember getting my butt ripped because of trying to propel "Ole Killer" by pushing with the foot, hard on shoes, Mom hated that. The "Real Speed" was brought about by the big kids getting inside and pushing so fast that kids where flying off breaking arms, ripping clothes all over the place. Jumping on while moving was real hard on the teeth, arms, other body parts and your fellow playmates. God "Ole Killer" was fun!

Even when I made it out of the door the quick kids would pass me by and have it going around so fast that they'd be just a blur. Sometimes I'd watch them and think they were going to drill themselves into the earth they were going so fast. One could always try to "jump on". I tried that many times. Occasionally I succeeded. Usually I went home with torn pants and skinned knees.

Since I walked to school I could wait until all the quick kids had left on the bus and I could get on. But it was never the same. Nothing was as grand as being on the merry-go-round and holding on for dear life as it accelerated toward the speed of light while watching others on the sidelines become a blur.

Lee Dixon