Philip Spiess

Steve:  As you and I and (presumably) all our classmates know, racial (and other) discrimination can strike at any place at any time, despite whatever laws or regulations are in place.  "Constant vigilance is the price of liberty" -- Thomas Jefferson (a notorious slaveholder).

Paul:  As I know from my career, the whole world is a museum of human civilization, and things from eons ago keep appearing to amaze us.  I myself became a member of the national Society for Industrial Archeology (and became the first president of the Washington chapter of said Society) because of those junk yards and abandoned factories and mills, which the Society studies and seeks to preserve for study.  (I've quoted many sections of my 1978 Guide to the Industrial Archeology of Cincinnati on this Forum.)  Fascinatingly (to me), ancient and historic garbage heaps, privy pits, and even coprolites (the petrified shit of both animals and humans) yield important scientific and historic information to those interested enough and willing to study them (coprolites, for example, yield important information about ancient or not-so-ancient diets and nutrition, as well as information about crop yields or famines in a given area).

I attended Williams YMCA in Walnut Hills as a teenager for awhile, and, when my mother picked me up, we'd go to the Toddle House on Victory Parkway (I believe it was) for lunch.  Their hamburgers were superb, particularly with the yellow mustard they served.

And I've mentioned my love of the B/G restaurants downtown ("Home of the Bottomless Cup," i.e., coffee) and their incredible sandwiches, the "B/G" and "The Whiz," among others (it was the mayonnaise that made their sandwiches so remarkable).  Does no one else remember this?  

Paul Simons

Jeff - 5 for a quarter - that is something to contemplate on Sunday morning when contemplation is the order of the day. 5 for 25. White Castles. The only 5 of anything you can get for a quarter now is nickels.

Phil - I don't remember BG Restaurants but Google tells me they're still there. I missed out on them. I might have to stop by an auto recycler, or as we say a junkyard today, to marvel at the engines at various stages of tear down, and work up an apetite for a basic hamburger at $10.95 plus a Coke for $3.50 plus $3.00 tip = close to twenty bucks but then you do get chips and a pickle wedge for FREE.

Also apropos of Sunday I have a non-denominational religious or rather atheistic story. Years ago I was rebuilding a Mercedes-Benz 200D motor. The car had been sitting at a gas station broke down, it had spun a bearing, I bought it for $600.00. On getting it apart it was clear that in addition to a crankshaft regrind it also needed a piston. Mercedes wanted about $1,750.00 for one. Kinda high. I was at a junkyard in Trenton NJ and there at my feet along with the mud and oil and various parts was the exact piston, for the exact motor, that I needed. For about $5.00. Was it coincidence or divine intervention? It had to be coincidence because across time many have needed divine intervention far more than I did but did not get it. Anyway I did a lousy job on the thing but it ran, very loudly, for a couple of years. But if one knows next to nothing about doing this stuff Benz cars are good to learn on because nuts and bolts are strong steel and don't strip or break.

Bruce Fette

Paul,

I think I went to Lapirows from Knowleton's corner at least once  week. Usually bought a resistor, or a capacitor, or a tube socket. About all I could afford at the time. One snowy winter night he gave me a ride home. He had a ham radio rig in his car, and amazingly, he could do morse code while driving.

Philip Spiess

All:  Our classmate Terry Hoffeld informs me, via "thisdayinquotes.com/2011/01/" (and I thank him for the correction), that Thomas Jefferson scholars agree that Mr. Jefferson apparently never said or wrote the quote I (and many others) attributed to him on Post #3973 (it seems others said similar things earlier, as well as later).  Never mind that it is carved on the inside of the dome of the Jefferson Memorial here in Washington, and, I believe, appears on a U. S. postage stamp issued sometime in the 1960s.  I have made such a mistake before on this site, quoting Edmund Burke to no good end.  But such is the nature of history and how it comes down to us ("Bite their buns!", not "Let them eat cake!", is probably what Marie Antoinette said, and Louis XVI chuckled immoderately, not getting the point of it at all).

Bruce:  I've done an initial check for your Northside bakery, and I'm not sure I can identify it, short of actually being in Cincinnati and checking the Business Directories of the period (this would be the obvious source).  The pastry you describe sounds to me like a Cherry Strudel, but it could be simply a Danish pastry.  And how many people know Morse Code any more?  (The Navy abandoned it some years ago.)  We had to learn it in Boy Scouts, and our classmate Tom Gottschang and I set up a battery-powered telegraph key system across McAlpin Avenue in Clifton from his house to mine to send messages by Morse Code to each other.  It worked until Bell Telephone made us take down our simple wires from their poles.  Not too many years ago, the Smithsonian Institution, which was celebrating the sesquicentnnial of the Atlantic Cable, was doing a London to Washington re-creation of the event by literally telegraphing communications from school children between our National Museum of American History and the Science Museum in London.  As the event commenced, the telegraph keys which the Smithsonian had provided failed to operate properly, and the curator in charge of the program, who was a good friend of mine, called me in desperation.  I rushed my Boy Scout telegraph key from the late 1950s down to him, and a successful electronic link was promptly made between Washington and London, to the excitement of TV audiences on both sides of the Atlantic. 

David Buchholz

Last Christmas Dale posted about his experiences in visiting Cuba.  My turn.  Only I deal more in images than in words.  We spent ten days touring Havana, Santa Clara, the Bay of Pigs,  visited several small towns, urban farms, and spent Easter Sunday at the Che Guevarra Memorial.  We found that the people were kind, open, welcoming, and appeared to look at us as if we were goodwill ambassadors, representatives whose favorable experiences there would somehow transform the restrictions imposed upon them by a government they can't understand.  I've subdivided my images on my website into four categories—people, cars, flora and fauna, and places.  I'll put up the Cliff Notes version of my site so those who aren't so inclined to see others can skip ahead.

Central Havana

The Bee Hummingbird, the smallest bird in the world.  Endemic to Cuba, rarely seen and even more rarely photographed.  Playa Larga by the Bay of Pigs.

1952 Chevy Taxi

Central Havana

For further adventures click here..

Paul Simons

Thanks Dave, as the 1958 Chrysler Imperial rolls across the Golden Gate bridge into the sunset...

Jerry Ochs

After reading article after depressing article about shooting sprees in schools, I paused to ponder.  What was my greatest fear at WHHS?  It certainly wasn't death by classmate.  What was yours?

Paul Simons

Good question Jerry. Yes, how times have changed. We were encouraged to fear nuclear attack by Russia. Who would have dreamed they could do enormous damage without a single liberated neutron hitting a single plutonium nucleus? That it wouldn't be gamma rays making our brains into gelatinous pulp, but rather fake news stories made up by modern-day high school kids in Macedonia? Anyway my fear was that others - who might be reading this very tome - would find out that I was a nerd. But they never did, and high school life was one fabulous adventure after another, as it was for everyone, unsullied by worry about the AK-47 under the trenchcoat of the fellow who was only a bit more strange than average, but who figured he could even the score with a gun rather than a guitar. Yes, kids today are in trouble and they know it. They know the weapons are piling up and the monster storms are coming and those charged with protecting them have no intention of doung so. The kids know.

Dale Gieringer

I agree with Paul.  Nuclear war was my one existential fear during HS.  Remember the air raid drills in which we marched down to the salt mines and stood with our heads against the wall in order to survive a nuclear blast?  We had them in 7th-8th grade, but  they stopped sometime before senior year.   During the Cuban Missile crisis, I remember taking out my globe and measuring the distance from Cuba to Cincinnati with a string.   We were just at the limit of the intermediate range missiles that were being installed.  As for firearms, I recall one instance when a classmate who had recently transferred from another school was caught with on.  He promptly became an ex-classmate.

Richard Winter (Winter)

My greatest fear in high school?

I remember the Cuban Missile Crisis and, like many people, I did worry then that we might be on the brink of nuclear war.   

But during most of high school, nuclear war was not on my mind.   The single hardest thing for me was picking up the phone and asking for a date. What is the right day to call? The right time? What do I say when she answers the phone?  What to talk about before coming to the question?  How to ask?

And my biggest fear was being turned down.   Nuclear war was a distant concern.  But to be turned down and then to know I would be seeing that girl in school the next day -- I would have preferred a direct hit from a nuclear missle any day.  

So, through most of high school, I solved this problem by not asking. 

And the nuclear missiles?  They were never launched anyway..

Jerry Ochs

My greatest fear was being called on by a Latin teacher, any Latin teacher.  How ironic that my knowledge of Latin allowed me to understand so much written Spanish and French when in Europe, even though I had studied neither language.  Hic, haec, hoc.
 

Paul Simons

Judy Holtzer (Knopf)

Aaaahhh, Jerry, I think we could all literally smell your fear in Latin class. Body language too. You would try to squeeze down in your seat, a feat since you were pretty tall....

My fear was math class with Mr. Leeds. He was a great teacher, don't get me wrong, and I remember him fondly. But when he got that gleam in his eye, that fake-sinister smile, and would start to wind up the hand holding the chalk or eraser...... Just wished the earth would swallow me up.

Ira Goldberg

Paul, going to the blackboard was something I’d blocked out all these years. Thanks for reminding me, he says cynically. However, Judy, worse was delivering a presentation in history (substitute any class), with Mr. Farnham. In fact, I clearly recall expounding on Teddy Roosevelt’s life. Fortunately, it was good preparation for life. Came In handy as career progressed, so long as notes kept my focus. Otherwise, Jerry, WHHS helped teach me how to sit low in a seat and behind you tall folks to avert being called upon. Nearly blacked out that time! Also, Richard - after dating a few young women in college, my list of conversational items ran out and led me to ask out my future wife BEFORE I fainted. Fear of nuclear war was nothing to compare. Now....not so confident re. that. 

Steven Levinson

I'm definitely with Dick Winter.  WHHS was a social minefield, and my most intense anxieties, especially in 7th and 8th grades, revolved around whether and how I "fit in."  Touching on one of the proverbial elephants in the room, the most threatening people to me of all were the North Avendale and Bond Hill MOTs, who flaunted and protected their social turf with meanness, self-entitlement, and not so passive aggression. 

Jeff Daum

Wow Steve, I wish I knew of the "Bond Hill MOTs, who flaunted and protected their social turf with meanness, self-entitlement, and not so passive aggression."   I guess even though I was from Bond Hill, I was also an outsider for whatever reason, since I don't recall any of that.

I do recall having significant fear of mispronouncing a word in one of my language classes- not sure if it was German or Latin (Spanish class didn't seem to have that very negative milieu).  The threat was an instant "F" and tended to reduce volunteer participation.

Paul Simons

Wow as well - the fraternities and sororities - I remember some of the letters like ADK or DB or BOA - Beta Omicron Alpha - that was the one with the football players - and there was a sorority with the cheerleaders whose Greek acronym I have forgotten - and Sigma and Phi Epsilon. But I don't remember MOT - Mu Omicron Tau. (This is a joke). I figure that in my own case I was an absolute nerd in high school and didn't participate in athletics which I should have done and so didn't have a lot in common with those who did and so wouldn't have been included in that group or its activities. But I have to agree with Steve, kids can absolutely be cruel to one another. Kids can be cruel to their own parents. I'll bet we all have some regrets in that area. It's been a learning experience now in later life to find out that some who you wouldn't figure felt left out or had deep insecurities in fact did. Maybe this is part of the teenage experience. In any case I doubt that anyone reading this ever considered showing up one day with a gun and opening fire on his or her fellow students. Could it happen at WHHS today? Of course it could. There is news of a massacre somewhere in the world every day - the prevailing ethos seems to be that the law is irrelevant, one has a right to break it and do whatever one wants - and this country is flooded with automatic weapons. Duh.

And then there was this guy - Mr. Giacometti - who had the gall to single me out and tell me, in the middle of class, to stop biting my nails. Yes, it worked, for the next 55 years and maybe more, no more compulsive nailbiting.

Chuck Cole

Talking about sitting low at your desk or sitting behind tall people (which was easy for me)--I had the feeling that J. Stanley Leeds placed kids in rows with the shortest in the front row and tallest in the back so that he had a clear shot at each of us when he threw an eraser or piece of chalk.  On a positive note I remember watching space launches on TV in his classroom.  

Barbara Kahn (Tepper)

Paul Simon mentioned having regrets. A friend posted a question on facebook recently, asking if you could go back in thime and change anything in your past would you? I was surprised how many people said NO. I would like to go back and change a million things. I feel like I've straightened myself out in more recent years. 

Steven Levinson

Doc Jeff, maybe one of the differences between the two of us (who were well acquainted through Rockdale by 7th grade) was that I, being a real outsider (Lotspeich School and all) was sensitive to the social dynamic of which I speak, and you, being a Bond Hiller, may not have been.  I don't know.  Nevertheless, what I was alluding to was very real to me.  And to Danny Brown, too, I might add, although he handled it with his customary aplomb.  Ask him; he'll give you an ear full.  I was a fat kid in the 7th grade and full of insecurities.  Most of my peers that first year on the Hill were quite open, friendly, and approchable.  But definitely not the people I'm thinking of.  None of them are regular contributors to this website.

Steven Levinson

Gaiil W.S. knows what I'm talking about, I think.

Paul Simons

Jeff Daum

Steve, paraphrasing the saying “You can't understand someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes”, I am sure I had little idea of what others were experiencing or going through.  Certainly not in the beginning at WWHS.  I only had a few close friends and for the most part, felt on the outside of much of the social life and circles.  That part wasn’t easy.

I am sure that I have blocked recall of memories of most negative social experiences during those years.  On the flip side, I strongly believe that much of the learning process acquired and refined at WHHS, made college easier.

Jerry Ochs

Jerry Ochs

The problem with going back in time: even if you do only one thing differently, there is a cascade of new outcomes that make it impossible for you to return to the present you started from.