My Other High School

As I’ve said a few times, I spent most of sophomore year and a few weeks of junior year going to school in Atlanta, GA.

In early summer 1967, I took a trip to Atlanta to visit relatives. I remember riding a Trailways bus thru Philadelphia and Sweetwater and on down Highway 11, stopping at almost every town, no matter the size. I don’t remember where in Atlanta I was dropped off, but my cousins lived off Ponce de Leon avenue, in northeast Atlanta, very near a ballpark where a baseball team with the un-politically correct name of the Atlanta Crackers played. I doubt the field is still there.

This was my ‘country boy goes to the big city’ experience. I remember walking up to a grocery store, Piggly Wiggly I think, and stepping on the mat that automatically opened the door. I didn’t exactly jump when it opened, at least not physically, but I do remember a mental twitch as my head tried to figure out what my eyes were seeing.

I remember walking uptown and looking up at buildings that were much taller than any others I had seen, even in Knoxville! And I remember watching The Dirty Dozen at the Fox Theatre; a place that was awesome on the inside, with a Arabic motif that made the screen look like it was part of a huge mosque with minarets and date trees silhouetted against the curtains and different sized lights recessed into the ceiling, making it look like stars were twinkling. Arabian nights. I have used it as the measuring stick for every theatre or symphony hall I’ve been in since, and they all fall short.

Anyway, so later that year, after school started my Mom got word she could get a job in Atlanta, and after the pleasant experience earlier, I was all for it. This time we moved into a row house on Milledge Avenue. It was a working class neighborhood near Grant Park. From the street in front of the house you could see the stadium where the Braves played.

The school, Roosevelt High School, was a couple of miles away, a few blocks the other side of the park. Once through the park, we walked down a neighborhood street, and you had no idea you were near the school until the road curved and there it was -- a three story, ornate brick building. It even had a dome!

There are a few vivid memories. One of my classes was ROTC (rotzee) so I actually wore a uniform a couple of times a month. One of my teacher’s husband played on a minor league football team and on days she didn’t feel like teaching she showed game films from his games. And for at least one day a month, the cafeteria served catfish, cole slaw and hushpuppies. Loved it.  It's not there any longer.  The building is, but the school combined with another one and now the building is sectioned off into condos and is called The Roosevelt.  Heck, even our hold row house on Millidge Avenue goes for about $300,000, so I don't think it's a working class neighborhood anymore.

Things started becoming a little bit more routine by the time school was out and became boring. I didn’t have any friends that lived in the neighborhood I did so when there was no school I felt cooped up. By the time school started in ’68 my brother had decided to quit and was putting the same ideas in my head. I had been in touch with Wayne and Allen McNabb while I was down there and the subject came up of me moving back and staying with them. Their folks said it was fine, my Mom said it was fine, so I came back.

I still remember my first day back at good ol’ Loudon High. It felt great to walk in the door. I felt like I was back home.