Monday, January 7, 2008 - A Two-Hour Bus Ride to Santa Monica Beach
I attended Thomas Starr King Junior High School in Los Angeles, between the years 1980 and 1982, from the seventh grade through the ninth. It was sort of a blur, a not-so-memorable experience. It was definitely very different from high school. I think for most people, junior high is kind of strange anyway. “Awkward” is the best word I can come up with to describe those times. Becoming a pimple-faced, hormone-driven teenager is definitely awkward. The only glorious moments I can remember were being in Band and playing the trombone, the “war ball” games, and the two-hour bus rides to Santa Monica Beach.
We had a pretty good band. King is located close to the Silverlake area of Los Angeles, near the corner of Sunset and Fountain. Back in those early eighties, it still felt like the seventies. I’ve always argued that the first couple of years of a decade still feel like the decade before. It seems that the “style and identity” of a decade doesn’t really become obvious until the last half of that decade. I still remember the early nineties. Up to 1992, most people still had the eighties look, including the eighties hair and the shoulder pads, until the grunge look sort-of took over. If you want proof, just look at your pictures! For those who lived it, there is a huge difference between 1982 and 1986. By 1986, Live-Aid had already happened, and the "New Wave" in music had arrived, just before “hair bands” had their twelve minutes. The identity of the eighties became apparent after 1985, I would argue, just like any other decade.
Like I was saying, we had a pretty good band. Our bandleader was Mrs. Rogahn. She was a force to reckon with. As I remember, she was a petit, ninety-pound, glasses-wearing woman who had the patience, of well, a middle-school band-and-orchestra-leader! She handled over three hundred teenage first-time-instrument-wielding beginners, hardly without any help. Now if that wasn’t a challenge, I don’t know what is? She knew how to play every single instrument and she always defended the existence of each instrument. I loved that about her! I played the trombone, only because I registered late. I reported for school a week late and all the spots for the trumpets were taken. Yes, trumpets, percussion, then saxophone. In that order, the most wanted instruments to play in junior high school at that time. I don’t think that has changed drastically since. The least wanted? You guessed it, the trombone. I would guess the bassoon and the oboe would come in a close second and third. I remember Jimmy Rudy, a relatively big and tall kid, who became a close friend throughout junior high school and high school, ended up playing the tuba, probably because he was the only one who can lift it! Mrs. Rogahn was highly respected in the music community and was well known throughout the school. Our performances were always very popular, even for a junior high Band.
Then there was war ball! Most people call it “dodge-ball”, but when I was in junior high, we always called it war ball. I was such a sport-nut in those days. During nutrition, I pretty much ate my lunch for the day, because the lunch hour was usually spent playing either football or basketball. It didn’t matter whom with, I always found a game during lunchtime, and usually went into fifth period drenched in sweat. But the most memorable days were the rainy days. That meant the entire group for the period was in the gym, playing war ball. Some days even when it wasn’t raining, when the P.E. teacher felt like it, we would end up in the gym anyway. You can bet someone always asked on a daily basis, for us to play war ball in the gym. When the teacher agreed, for some of us “warriors”, the day was made! I was notorious for being called a “head-hunter”. Not that I was a bully or anything, but I was pretty accurate at aiming the ball. Everyone always looked forward to seeing someone get beaned on the head with a ball. If you remember, cruelty was the norm in junior high. Every single story broke the Guinness Book of World’s Record, at least in our neighborhood, which was pretty much inner city. Thank God we didn’t have You Tube then, the cruelty would be even more obvious. Our teachers were always involved as well, making sure we didn’t abuse the less athletic kids. Remember, in the early eighties, the term and the “politically correct” attitude didn’t quite exist just yet.
And finally, the most memorable thing I did in junior high? The two-hour bus ride to Santa Monica Beach! This was sort of my “Stand By Me” moment. It was four adventurous junior high kids; Jaime, Bobby, Kevin and myself, spending a whole day “boogie boarding” at Santa Monica Beach. For some reason, no one ever bothered to ask any parent for a ride. From the Silverlake area where we lived, we would take the 39G to Sunset Boulevard by Echo Park. Then take the 91 or the 94 all the way to Santa Monica Beach. A two-hour bus ride on Sunset and Santa Monica Boulevard, riding through the best and worst parts of Los Angeles. I remember the Beverly Hills and the Century City stops very vividly. I always wondered why the grasses on the sidewalks never grew in those areas. I later realized it was because they were just well manicured.
We always sat in the back of the bus, so we can hang our boogie boards against the handles on the ceiling of the bus. We always brought our boogie boards, and a small duffle bag (backpacks weren’t at all fashionable then), with our change of clothes, a towel, and Johnson’s baby oil inside. For some reason, none of us used real suntan lotion. It was probably because we couldn’t afford it. I still remember the OP shorts, the Op print collared-shirts and the thermals we wore underneath them. We all had the Velcro Hobie wallets, (remember those?) with the school pictures of girls we liked, our bus passes, our school ids, and hardly any monies. I remember getting off the bus around 3rd or 4th Street in Santa Monica, by a McDonald’s. At that time, we never uttered the word “bus”. It was called the RTD. The Rapid Transit District. They were usually yellow, and on the 91/94 route on Santa Monica Boulevard, sometimes you were lucky enough to ride the twice-as-long “limo” busses, as we called them. Riding at the joint where the two busses met was always a treat for a thirteen-year-old.
At first it seemed like a very long ride, but after a few times, it was all just routine. At the end of our long and perfect day, we would all eat at that same McDonald’s and then take the same route back. We would all usually get home after the sun went down. We did this during the summers in between school, and a few times during the school year on weekends. It was always four of us, and none of us went without the other three. When we started high school, Kevin and his family moved out of state. Bobby went to another high school, and Jaime and I remained great friends throughout high school.
And what did our parents think? I honestly don’t remember. It was a different time, when people didn’t walk around scared of one another. Adolescents were very independent. I don’t think we were necessarily safer, but we didn’t feel “endangered.” At that time we always thought about the best things that can happen to us, not the worst.
I’m so glad I was a kid in “those” days!
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