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The class of 1967 entered Memorial High the Tuesday after Labor Day in 1964. To us the building felt substantial and venerable.
Of course we had been in it as invited intruders for several years by that time. Some of us were bussed from Lincoln Elementary way out on the west end of Ely for gym (the teachers from outside the area called it “fizz - ed”) and swimming sessions. Later, when we occupied Washington Junior High, we wended through the mysterious tunnels, past the fire-breathing boilers, and up the steel-capped stone stairs to the tile corridor a couple of times a year on our way toward Ann Stoll’s office. We were directed to line up in alphabetical order -- Adamic, Ahola, Anderson... Zgonc, Zorman. While awaiting our shots we jiggled and giggled to subdue the anxiety because we could see Nurse Stoll and catch a whiff of rubbing alcohol prepping the next victim. Sitting at the table was Doc Snyker holding a syringe the size of a Quaker Oatmeal box at the tip of which was a water pipe cut to a taper on the business which was soon to deliver to our trembling arms a dose of the vaccination de jour at the command of Doc’s steady right thumb.
Some of us attended language classes in Memorial while we were still at Washington as freshman. By then we were too tough to use the tunnels, even in January. Instead we tromped across the courtyard after visiting the restroom to wet and comb our hairstyles. The part stayed in place through the first quarter hour of Latin or German class since the Arctic air froze it there.
Back to that September Tuesday in 1964. We started our three year stint in Memorial that day by being assigned lockers. We were now bona fide residents of EHS not vagrants passing through the halls to the smirks of the Big Kids, the seniors. We were sorta big kids now, although the upper case spelling reflected our low rank as sophomores. I am still amazed at the locker assignments. Even without computers, the school’s administrators were able to assign each of us a locker that was not only as far away as possible from our homeroom/ first class, but also along the wall on the side of Memorial that was farthest from each of our houses. A task more difficult than scheduling a Major League Baseball season.
Our class had about 150 members then. We had a couple of Bobs, Gails, Mikes, Marys. No Caitlyns or Codys or Ashlees or Aydens. First day roll call was a chuckle when new-to-the-district teachers tried to pronounce some of our surnames. I heard a few “loo THAY nens.” “Prijatel” was a challenge for the new teachers. They didn’t even try to say “Zgonc.”
The class rotation routine was well practiced in junior high over at the little kids school, the Washington, so it was quickly and easily mastered at Memorial. Starting at 08:00 with a homeroom period of ten minutes during which roll was taken and announcements made -- none of which I heard as I was scrambling to do the homework I should have done the previous night -- the morning consisted of four classes each as far away from the previous one as possible. A quick dash home for lunch then back for the afternoon’s three classes.
This routine which included English, social studies, home ec, math, shop, music, driver ed, and typing classes continued for 38 weeks each year for three years. Over 500 delightful days with many kids who remained friends for decades. Each Friday brought a tingle, each ball game a lift, each teacher a contribution.
On April first 1967, Ely’s largest employer ever, the Pioneer Mine ceased operations. In early June we gathered as a class for the last time on the stage of Washington auditorium.
Three years of full days, exciting weeks, progressing months were behind us. And in a blink, we were having our pictures taken in our graduation gowns.
Memorial was already a mature building in its forties when we became Big Kids there in the sixties. It’s now a centenarian structure hosting classes with a “27” instead of a “67” on Timberwolves jackets.
May it be there for the class of 2067.
Doug Luthanen grew up in Ely and graduated from Memorial High School in 1967. He wrote a weekly viewpoint column for the Northwest Arkansas Times for four years and is an occasional contributor to The Ely Echo.
