Friday, July 26, 2013




Class Reunions, Part I

(Excerpt from Chapter 14, “Reflections, Reunions, and Regrets” in Growing Up Silent in the 1950s:Not all Tail Fins and Rock ‘n’ Roll, Yesteryear Publishing (2013), by Judith Thompson Witmer, Curwensville Joint High School, Curwensville, PA Class of 1955)

Class Reunions are the social process by which periodically we have the chance to see our high school classmates all in one place at one time. While there is fertile ground for a research study of alumni groups and class reunions, generalizations about reunions can be made through observation, experience, and reading both fiction and non-fiction. All researchers agree, however, that our perceptions of high school remain with us and that we are today who we were then.

It is in high school that friendships are created that have a unique depth to them and a hold on those who have forged the friendships. While we can’t choose our classmates, most of us form very close associations with them because our high school years are the only ones many of us ever spend with a social and economic cross section of our peers and is the only time we share an extended common experience.

Even though this experience is partly one of discord because adolescents are in the throes of conflict much of the time, we still turn to our peers for acceptance. Most of us never stop trying to win the love of classmates—at least for as long as the high school experiences continue through class reunions. We all pretend that acceptance by classmates doesn’t matter, but it does, and we want to be a part of the whole.

Classmates share experiences that are unique to those in the class and unique to the time, because the friendships are tied to events and these events are not repeated. For any particular class there is only one freshman dance, one sophomore selection of class rings, class color, flower, and motto. There is only one junior prom, and one senior experience of everything else that matters.

We remember the football cheers word for word, the pep songs, lines from the class play we were in, the songs we sang at Commencement, what we wore the last day of school our senior year, Class Day, how many times our pictures appeared in the yearbook, who wrote what in our yearbooks, what was written about us in the school newspaper, who drove us home after a school event or an evening at the Teenage Center, who commiserated with us the time we didn’t win the coveted award, who passed notes between classes, the names of our homeroom teachers freshman and senior years, favorite outfits … and gym suits.

Even today we frame much of our conversation in high school terms, describing someone as a cheerleader type, or the boy/girl who never paid attention to us in high school, the person who always knew the answers, a high school mentality, and the senior prom jitters. And we find ourselves still using the slang from those days, sometimes noticing people looking at us uncomprehendingly. Then we remember: they weren’t there.

Mainly, we all listened to the same music and watched the same movies. We recall whom we were dancing with or necking with or even sitting next to in the theatre. And for a brief moment we are there again.

Other than the casually asked, “Where did you graduate from high school,” high school experiences are almost never a topic of conversation once adulthood is reached. Not even those who were graduated in the same year or same decade, but in a different location, offer information about their years in high school nor do they ask about ours. It is almost a closed subject and an unvoiced agreement that “if you don’t ask me what I was like in high school, I won’t ask you.” And there is no question more provocative to ask a grown woman than “Were you a cheerleader?” The responses usually are strong and immediate, either something like “Why did you ask me that?” or “Why? Do I look like one?”[i] In any case, the response is always defensive.

As Keyes says, “I think the rest of our lives are spent making up for what we did or didn’t do in high school.”[ii] We never forget, ever. Mia Farrow (actress) remembers the time every girl except her was asked to dance; Charles Schultz (cartoonist) says that the yearbook staff rejected his every cartoon; Warren Beatty tells about the ten football scholarships he turned down; and Dory Previn (lyricist, singer-songwriter and poet) cannot forget the role she didn’t get in the class play.[iii]

In actuality, reunions are more a social history than the class yearbook, for reunions are fluid over as many years as classmates continue to hold them, sometimes for as long as there are enough surviving classmates to meet. And while they are fascinating and widespread, predictable yet arbitrary, and create both anxiety and hope, class reunions remain virtually an unstudied American phenomenon.

With all of the angst, then, why do people attend these fearful, emotionally charged events? When even receiving the announcement is unnerving, why do we go? Reasons given for attending reunions include looking forward to reminiscing, thinking one might look better now than in high school, “letting people know I am still the same friendly person who will talk to everyone,” or showing one has changed.

The primary reason people attend, however, is because they want to see particular classmates, especially a rival of the same sex, a high school steady, or the person who might have changed their life—“if  only.” What may be surprising is that those at their fiftieth reunion remember no less vividly than those at their fifth who it is they really want to see.

Reasons for not attending one’s reunions include not wanting to be reminded of being (or not being) in a clique, unhappy memories, or feeling like one did not belong. Further, people without good news to report don’t usually attend. Whether or not one decides to attend, we share a fear, held over from high school, of appearing ridiculous.

For all my own fussing about it (more evidenced by my diary entries than my memory which recalls few negatives about those days), I loved high school. I must assume that those who return to our reunions also did. The reunion attendees are much the same group every time. For the most part we remain the core of the class and were the nucleus (although not all of the same clique) in the 1950s as well. Even so, we are comprised of a cross-section. For the most part, we have remained true to each other and to our class.

Three of the seven high honor students in our graduating class have attended every reunion and three have never attended. Approximately ten percent of our entire class have never missed a reunion, but a larger percent have never attended. Our class president attended only one.





[i] Keyes, p. 83.
[ii] Keyes, p. 57.
[iii] Keyes, p. 7.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

James Dean, The Hero, The Icon, The Defining Moment of the Silent Generation

Ah, yes, James Dean, who indirectly had more impact on those growing up in the 1950s than even Elvis. Rebel Without a Cause was venerated among teenagers, giving those graduating in the mid-1950s the momentum to begin to understand the latent yearnings we had felt throughout high school. In some ways it empowered us and in other ways it made us long for a second chance to go through school asking more questions and perhaps challenging more of the adults. Rebel was the stark reminder of how repressed we had been and how compliant we still were. Mainly, the movie marked us as being a generation that may have been waiting for an opportunity to rebel and hadn’t yet verbalized it even to ourselves, but rather had chosen to remain unresisting and silent because we weren’t sure how many of us felt the same way.

While Dean’s movies were not released in time for us in my own class to have seen them prior to high school graduation, when I first saw Rebel Without a Cause in Chicago on November 25, 1955, I recall not being able to move or speak at the end of the movie. I was stunned by the performance, the message, and the sudden realization that this was a movie that was ours, one that defined us and our time. Jim Stark was the first screen character that we knew for certain was who we were, and a cult (albeit a silent one) was born. While we didn’t completely understand the epiphany, we knew something had happened to us. (Perhaps that was our defining moment that all historians missed.)

For more on James Dean, see the attachment below from my book, Growing Up Silent in the 1950s: Not All Tail Fins and Rock and Roll (2013).

Reflections on a Rebel

The memorable teen-age movies with which we most identified include Pat Boone’s “April Love,” the surprise smash hit “Blackboard Jungle,” Elvis’s “Jailhouse Rock” and “Love Me Tender,  “Rock Around the Clock” with Bill Haley and the Comets, “Marjorie Morningstar,” “Peyton Place,” “A Summer Place,” Brando’s “The Wild One,” “The Young Stranger,” “The Young Don’t Cry,” and the iconic “Rebel Without a Cause.”

Rebel Without a Cause, while very different from Blackboard, was perhaps the most famous and influential of the 1950s juvenile delinquent films. Its sympathy was completely with the adolescent characters in the film, making it symbolic of the time and creating a legend of its star, James Dean. Dean was likely the first manifestation of a youth culture that was just surfacing.  Rod Serling described the story as “a postwar mystification of the young, a gradual erosion of confidence in their elders … (and) in the whole litany of moral codes. The young just didn’t believe in them anymore.”[i] 

Miller and Nowak say that Rebel is the film that linked affluent teen-agers and rebellion, leading us finally to question—at least in our own minds—the authority of our parents and providing the rationale for any overt, even modest, challenge to parental authority. More importantly, teens from this time forward began to understand what power a shared culture could hold, and this realization strengthened their identity as a group.

Rebel caused such a stir that the Board of Education in Indiana, Pennsylvania (50 miles west of Curwensville) made a resolution “deploring the exhibition of moving pictures such as Rebel Without a Cause.”[ii] This, of course, only called attention to the movie, drawing even more viewers. What made the movie so startling is that such edicts demonstrate how wide the gulf had become between parents and teenagers.

Rebel was venerated among teenagers, giving those graduating in the mid-1950s the momentum to begin to understand the latent yearnings we had felt throughout high school. In some ways it empowered us and in other ways it made us long for a second chance to go through school asking more questions and perhaps challenging more of the adults. Rebel was the stark reminder of how repressed we had been and how compliant we still were. Mainly, the movie marked us as being a generation that may have been waiting for an opportunity to rebel and hadn’t yet verbalized it even to ourselves, but rather had chosen to remain unresisting and silent because we weren’t sure how many of us felt the same way.

The movie made a hero of James Dean and even in his short career, Dean impacted mid-1950’s teenagers—both girls and boys—like no one else. (I likely am not alone in having a nearly life-size portrait of James Dean in my bedroom, his films on videotape, and a cardboard cutout of his personage that I carry to our reunions.)

I just came back from seeing “Giant.”  All I can say is that Jimmy Dean wasn’t in enough scenes.  I really like him.  …I was on his side all the way.                                                      Tom Ball, January 3, 1957

Wild One, Rebel, Blackboard, and, later Blue Denim, broke new ground in the movie industry because they managed to do what every filmmaker dreams of—generate controversy while at the same time stimulate enormous interest that, at least with our generation, did not wane.

I just bought the DVD of all James Dean’s movies.                                        Tom Ball, December 2010

Seventeen percent (all female) of our class named Marlon Brando as their favorite actor and 15 percent (mostly boys) named John Wayne. However, it was the transcendent James Dean in East of Eden, Rebel Without a Cause, and Giant (movies respectively released March 9, 1955, October 27, 1955, and November 24, 1956, months before they were shown in small towns) who became our hero.

Judith Thompson Witmer, Class of 1955 and also author of two recent books about Curwensville’ s social history, Jebbie, Vamp to Victim and All the Gentlemen Callers: Letters Found in a 1920s Steamer Trunk, available at The Strawberry Tree and on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.



[i] Halberstam, p. 482.
[ii] Gilbert, p. 178.