The Summer of ‘65

In 2015, my WSHS class celebrated its 50-year anniversary. At the annual alumni banquet, the alumni association presented scholarship awards to recent graduates. A member of our class gave the keynote speech and observed that at our commencement, the fifty-year class would have graduated in 1915, which to us would have seemed like ancient history. 

The Class of 2015 probably had similar thoughts about our class, but to the Class of 1915 I suspect the passage of time would have seemed brief. Now, my memories of 1965 seem as if they were yesterday.

Our lives then revolved around school activities. WSHS provided a boatload of extracurricular activities, particularly in athletics, music, and theatrical productions. That year, in the dramatic play, The Robe, and the musical Carousel, classmates Glenda Turner, Buddy Stuart, Peggy (Henry) Bradford, Vivian (McMahan) Brake, Jim Thomas, Jody Corn, and Eddie Hill had major roles. Our football team had numerous all-conference players, and but for a disputed call, came within a touchdown of winning a conference championship. Several class members set records in track and field competition.

Outside of school, dating and cars kept us busy. For hours, we cruised from the Little Y to the Big Y; around the A&W and the Daisy Queen; and to favorite “parking” spots, all the time listening to AM radio, which was all that was available at the time. Until sundown, when it went off the air pursuant to FCC regulations, local station KUKU had the best reception. But after dark, the station of choice was Chicago’s 50,000-watt, clear-channel WLS, where infamous deejay Dick Biondi broadcasted top-40 hits. He was our Wolfman Jack.  

That fall “Oh, Pretty Woman,” (Roy Orbison), “Baby Love” (The Supremes), and “I Feel Fine” and “A Hard Day’s Night” (The Beatles) topped the charts. And we all got chills when J. Frank Wilson’s “Last Date,” a ballad about a girlfriend dying in a car crash, played on the radio. Any Friday or Saturday night, the “main drag” in Willow could have been a scene from the George Lucas-directed movie, American Graffiti. 

In the spring, we anticipated graduation and reminisced how quickly the time had passed, from being naïve freshman to seniors about to embark to the next chapters of our lives. Many of us turned 18, and for the boys, that meant a trip to West Plains to register with the Selective Service Board. 

Although we had seen news reports about the fighting in Vietnam, for most of us it was a far-off place we couldn’t find on a map. But in the first week of May, we probably knew the number one song on the Billboard chart was “Mrs. Brown You Have a Lovely Daughter” by Herman and the Hermits. 

Military service loomed for some; marriage and jobs for others, and some would be college-bound. Several from my class would join me as Mizzou Tigers: Glenda Turner, Annette Tetrick, and Danny Zimmerman. 

I remember my first trip to see a Mizzou football game. When we were sophomores, Danny Zimmerman and I rode to Columbia with his father Jac, the owner of the Willow Springs News. Before the trip, Danny had informed me, with the air of a sage, that I needed to wear a coat and tie for the game. As a side note, even as late as 1967, a coat and tie were considered appropriate attire for men at Mizzou football games. 

For some reason, Danny’s twin brother David couldn’t make the trip, and I was invited. Back then, Highway 63 was hilly and full of curves and the trip took over four hours. Along the way, Mr. Zimmerman regaled us with stories about his playing football at Cabool, where his wife Reba had been a cheerleader. 

And what a game it was: the Tigers beat Colorado 57-0. Johnny Roland scored five touchdowns, and I had never seen 60,000 people in one place in my life. In the back of my mind, I knew where I wanted to go to college.

Sometime that year, a Willow teacher who had worked in Yellowstone Park, shared some of his adventures with Dan and encouraged him to consider working there. Dan started writing letters, and by early spring had secured a job working for Hamilton Stores, a park concessionaire that sold food and souvenirs to tourists. 

Dan urged me to go with him. I had planned to work in the Kansas wheat harvest again, but somehow another summer riding a John Deere tractor didn’t seem nearly as exciting as working in Yellowstone Park. Because we could arrive in early May before most of the college employees arrived, we thought I stood a good chance of getting hired. So, I agreed to go.

Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman drove us to Springfield where we boarded a Trailways bus. We traveled over the flatlands of Kansas to Denver and then northward, diagonally, across Wyoming, and finally stopped in Ashton, Idaho—the seed potato capital of the world. Until June, and the likelihood of snow in the mountain passes waned, Ashton was the turnaround spot for Trailways. We spent the night in an old hotel that reminded us of the Horton Hotel in Willow.

The next morning when the Yellowstone employees’ bus arrived, I explained my situation to the driver and he gave me a nod to get aboard. When we arrived in West Yellowstone, I accompanied Dan to the Hamilton Store office and presented reference letters from my teachers to the personnel director. He seemed impressed; so impressed that he offered me a job . . . washing dishes. 

I told him I hadn’t come halfway across the country to wash dishes, and that I had enough money to get back to Kansas where I could work in the wheat harvest. He apparently wasn’t offended by my pluck, and asked me if I would be interested in a job as a soda jerk working with Dan at the Old Faithful Hamilton Store. I was delighted.

With graduation behind us, Danny Z. and I began an adventure of a lifetime in the Summer of ’65, and the halcyon days of WSHS became a memory.