GANG OF FOUR (#59): I’m not sure how the gang got together. Joe and I had been best friends since the day we met. John Swain and Ronnie were in my Home Room. It started when we got car keys, but started slowly. It is hard to get into too much trouble when you are driving your Dad’s white Ford Falcon station wagon, even though Ronnie did manage to shoot the moon.
The real trouble began when we got VWs. As I mentioned yesterday, you would be amazed at the places you can drive a VW Beetle. For one, straight through the halls of Boca Ciega High School. I don’t think there were any corridors where we could make a turn.
Add in a few beers and we felt invincible. I doubt you have heard of the Xtreme sport of yard driving. We may have invented the idea. A perfect score was a 5. One point was awarded for not getting caught. The other points were awarded for successfully navigating a portion of the course. I don’t think I should write any more on the subject.
Did you ever notice that one Monday morning there was a heavy metal screen over the window to Mr. Henrdricks’ office? I may have have an idea how the flag from the 16th hole of the Pasadena Golf Course end up in the Dean of Men’s office.
A kid with a chip on his shoulder can sure cause a lot of trouble. Luckily, the gang had my back and we managed to graduate. I even attended both Junior and Senior Proms with the lovely and sweet Linda Fishback.
After graduation, John joined the Naval Reserve and Joe enlisted in the Air Force. Ronnie went to SPJC and was a brother in Alpha Delta Epsilon.
Joe returned home safely. John became an electrician and Joe became a machinist. Ronnie went on to a successful career in construction. The last time I saw John we played basketball in the driveway of the house in PAG Beach. Every year at Super Bowl, I think of watching Super Bowl Two at his parent’s Super Bowl Party.
On June 13th, 1984, John was electrocuted while working on a repair at the Crystal River Nuclear Power Plant. I went to his funeral, but dreaded it. John was to be buried at Royal Palm Cemetery, located just a block from our high school. I asked Joe to ride to the cemetery with me.
Before we went to the grave site, I suggested we talk a spin around BCHS for old times sake. I was surprised that the main corridor was still not blocked, so we took a ride through from the front circle to the back parking lot. We turned around and headed back through the corridor towards 58th Street.
My BMW 320i was a little bigger than my VW Beetle, but still fit. I had a 6 pack cooler of beer in the back seat. We stopped halfway, popped two beers, and made a toast to John. Then we went to the cemetery and watched our friend and his casket lowered into the ground.
In the early 1990s, I had a date with the niece of Salty Sol Fleischman. For some reason we were heading north on 58th street towards BCHS and I told her about our high school drives through the halls, and the toast Joe and I made to John. She thought I was kidding, “You can’t do that!”
I pulled into the circle and saw that the corridor still wasn’t blocked. “Sure you can.” She was surprised when I drove my Mazda RX7 through it, towards the back parking lot. She was really pissed when she saw a Gulfport Police squad car with its flashing red and blue lights waiting for us when we came out. “If I have to tell my daughters that I was arrested, I’ll never speak to you again.”
I got out of the car and walked over to the policeman, “Boy, am I in trouble. I don’t think my date will ever talk to me again!” I told him about John and said I was just reliving my high school days, not causing vandalism. He took my information and let go with a warning, “Don’t do this again. If the school reports any damage, you’ll have to come in and pay for it.”
That was my last date with Leslie, but it was worth it. I know John was looking down and laughing his ass off.
