Reading Dave Weisert’s memories on July 3 reminded me of a few also. Help me complete and correct the memories, names, and facts. I’ll not go to the basement to search through my four copies of the “Crest” to find names.


1. Friday or Saturday night drives through the Main Street Steak and Shake also necessitated a further trip up Main Street and on to Farmington Road for the circuit through Hunt’s Drive In until they installed that gate that forced us to stop and buy something before making an exit. That’s how I got stuck on those pork tenderloin sandwiches pounded thinly and spreading inches beyond the bun. To this day I have not found a satisfactory replacement for that meal. Also, before entering any drive in tour, I always had to position my left upper arm precisely on the window sill so that it appeared I had a biceps worthy of admiration! I laugh at my naiveté thinking I was fooling anyone.

Regarding Steak and Shake’s marketing expertise, how many of its sales phrases do you remember immediately? For a company that began in the 1930’s, they had and still use a cornucopia of memorable phrases. Residents of Florida, central Illinois, and anywhere else S&S is located, no cheating.

2. An experience with the Park District Police: One summer Friday evening on a date, we decided to take a turn on the kids’ swings somewhere in Bradley Park, and my wallet fell out of my back pocket. Early on Saturday, I had to work at Harbur’s Cleaners across from PHS. Saturday was always a long working day, so when I returned home late that afternoon, my parents presented me with my wallet that the p d police had found and returned to my house. I had not missed it Friday eve or Saturday. No amount of explanation could get me off the hook with my parents. How could I have lost my wallet in the park without some hanky panky going on?

3. After games we went to the Lion’s Club (?) on that E-W street just south of school our freshman (and sophomore?) years before the building was torn down? What an exciting and neat place with promises of what we could be when we became upperclassmen!

4. Later years at the Baptist Church teen place, the Apple Barrel or something along that line, with Terry Fuch entertaining us playing the drums with his band.

5. I was mortified when on Crest Day, either junior or senior year, I inadvertently signed a yearbook “Good Fuck” followed by my name. The more I tried to repair the F with an L, the more hopeless it became. Whose yearbook was it that I signed? I believe it was someone from ‘62.

6. Craig Thiersch trying to teach me Russian in Mrs. H’s(?) freshman English class.

7. Carroll Bockwitz (?), our crazy algebra teacher, freshman year. How that man must have hated teenagers. Poor Wiley Powell, who sat behind me, repeatedly had to endure Bockwitz meanly crying out in a high whine, “Wiiiiiiilleee” whenever Wiley asked a question or was called upon to answer one. All this from a man whose first name was Carroll?

Bockwitz’ class was the only one I skipped during four years: Our freshman year, the band went to another high school for a concert or competition in the morning and returned about the time B’s class began. Every other band member went to class; I, however, went to the cafeteria and spent the extra time there. My mother had to come to school for a meeting with a wonderful assistant principal, Mr. ?, who was an uncle to our classmate, Carol ?. I got off with a warning which I heeded the remaining years at PHS.

Regarding Mr. Beilema(sp?): I do not remember his yelling “BOOOO,” but I loved his geometry class. I’d sit at home at night trying to prove theorems in ways other than the ones I knew were accepted.

Another math memory comes from my junior year with Mr. Van de ?‘s Algebra 2 class. I simply never mastered the concepts of sine and cosine, but I do remember his repeatedly lecturing us with two upraised middle fingers as a seemingly innocent gesture. Years later, teaching English for 34 years, I revised my thinking regarding his “innocent” gesture.

8. On a double date with my good friend John Cunningham from Woodruff, we went to the Madison or Rialto to see “West Side Story.” As the lights were coming up at the end of the movie, both John and I had tears in our eyes; we tried to cover up while the two girls were seemingly dry eyed. The girls also probably were teary, but I was too concerned with my own condition, a major faux pas for teenage boys then and now.

9. Miss Dobrunz, speech: Her relative youth among PHS teachers and those short skirts were great attention-getters.

Miss Fogelsong, French: “Now, Peeepul.”

Mr. Summers, biology: What a sweet, patient man.

Mr. Suffield, art: “What is the most beautiful line?”

Mr. Suffield, brother of the art teacher, drivers ed: What a worthless bozo of a teacher

Miss Albright, American history: She attempted to sexualize many aspects of our history; probably not incorrect, but I do not think that was her motivation.

Miss Wood, ancient history: Upon entering class about twice a week: “Take out a half sheet of paper and a pencil, please.” I loved her class, too.

Fudgepants Fluegel, chemistry: That curtain across the blackboard that he would draw back as each exam began. God, how badly I think I did in his class. I could never finish a test. I remember Marty Horn, a great chemistry student, not really complaining but asking why Fluegel wrote tests he (Marty) could not complete. FF replied that if a student finished one of his exams, he had not really tested his capability, a concept that today somehow makes sense to me, but one that certainly is not pedagogically sound.

Miss Rice, English, senior year: I looked through and around Barb ?’s beehive for two semesters. The hairdo never changed; neither did Miss Rice’s breath.

10. Turkey Day games!!!

If you are able to correct and/or amplify any of these memories, please do so.

Ted Williams died today.

Neil Pomerenke