High School Days

HIGH SCHOOL DAYS

Due to the fame that Weston High School had achieved in basketball, and the excellent gymnasium that had been built to continue it, I had looked forward to entering in the fall of 1943.  World War II was in full fury, but for a 13 year old boy, the excitement of going to high school in the 9^th grade was all-consuming.

 

           Barry, 1943                                                       Weston High School

Many of the high school teachers had roomed at Grandma Lundquist’s home, and were friends to my parents, which helped me to be optimistic about the big step up in class work and other activities.  The high school building was located on the brow of Weston hill, so that one could see it for miles to the east and south.

A few days after school started in late August, a tradition came in to play.  All freshmen were required to dress up on a Friday and were subjected to some hazing and to a late afternoon party.  The boys were to wear dresses or skirts and blouses.  I chose the latter.  It was a hot day and the wool skirt I wore itched like crazy.  Furthermore, I had my fill of hazing, so during the afternoon party I slipped over the hill and ran down it toward home.  After I crossed the railroad tracks, I ran into the barrow pit and took off the skirt.  Then I ran home in my bathing suit and blouse.

My neighbor, Francis Rasmussen, was Student-body President.  He was also a member of the six-man football team.  The team had three men on the line and three in the backfield.  We had a really fast fellow as halfback, so he scored quickly and often.  I believe we won the district but I don’t recall any state tourney. 

I don’t remember much else, except that I was a member of the band, playing trumpet. Our teacher, Frank Parker, occasionally played trumpet to help us out.  He would stand in front and hold the trumpet up high.  When he would breath, his Adam’s apple would move up and down, carrying his necktie with it, which caused me to nearly fall off my chair in laughter.

Barry posing with Weston High School Band—second row, second from left.

While I played trumpet in the band for four years, I grew tired of playing trumpet, so I faked that my trumpet was in repair.  That didn’t faze Frank Parker, because he then had me play the bass horn.  Since I wasn’t very big, it was heavy and the part was not interesting; next he put on the baritone horn, which I liked pretty well; then it was the French horn, which was not so interesting.  Finally I got my trumpet back and was able to play it without complaint.

I was quite active in Boy Scouts at this time, earning and receiving Second Class, First Class and Star Badges. The following merit badges were earned: Athletics, Bird Study, Civics, First Aid, Pathfinding, Public Health, Electricity, Firemanship and Farm Layout & Building Management.

When I was about 14, I acquired a new bicycle.  So Clyde Smith, who lived across the river, and I decided to ride our bikes to Preston to take in a Saturday movie.  I think Dad agreed to milk the cows that night, so that we could stay for the evening movie.  It was about 7 miles to Preston, at least half of which was on gravel roads.  On the way home I recall that the night was quite dark.  We rode along with each of us on a separate track of the gravel road.  Clyde was really a daredevil.  As we neared his home, he rode rapidly ahead on familiar roadway and down a short but steep hill.  Then he stopped to wait for me to catch up.  As I came down the hill pretty fast, I crashed head on into Clyde and his bike.  I flew off over the handlebars onto the gravel road.  Fortunately my glasses were undamaged, but my handlebars were turned 180 degrees.  We turned the handlebars around and drove off home at a much slower speed.

I don’t remember much about my Sophomore year (1944-45), except the burning of the high school the night of December 20, 1945.  Somehow Dad heard that the High School building was burning, so we hopped in the car and drove up there about 11 o’clock at night.  Apparently someone had dropped something hot in a garbage can in the kitchen after a ball game, which took awhile to ignite.  We were among the first to arrive there, but the decrepit old fire wagon could do nothing to stop the fire.  I recall that heat on our faces and the cold on our backs, so that I would turn around occasionally to equalize them.  It was a great sad day for Weston.  The town was never the same after the fire. 

We were transferred to a smaller building in Clifton, which meant a long bus ride for me each day.  The name was changed to West Side High School.  We had a small gym there but the basketball and football teams never did much after that.  I do recall a small building nearby where I attended seminary, with Ellis Rasmussen as the teacher.  He would later marry Mom’s cousin, Oda Fonnesbeck, and go on to become a leading Biblical scholar and head of the Religion Department at BYU.

In 1945 I earned my Life Badge with the following merit badges: Camping, Pioneering, Personal Health, Safety, Carpentry, Gardening, Farm Mechanics, Farm Home & Its Planning, Poultry, Scholarship, Wood Work and Wood Turning.

I think it was my Junior year (1945-46) that I joined the boxing team at the high school.  I had boxed occasionally in Weston.  One time we were boxing against Preston High School.  My second cousin, Duane Lott, and I were the same weight.  On that night I fought first and lost.  Duane was to fight next against Kelly Bowles, who had a fearsome reputation and was built like a bulldog.  So I rushed into the locker room to take off my gloves, so that I could go out to watch the bout between Duane and Kelly.  As I was walking out of the locker room, they were carrying in Duane who was unconscious.  Whew!  I played football my Junior year, although I didn’t get in any games.   My sister, Margaret, was born October 2, 1945.

It was this Junior year that I thought that if I did not do well in my classes, that my persecutors would like me better and stop teasing me.  So I goofed off and did not answer questions in class as I had previously done.  The result: same treatment as before.

In 1946 I worked hard on my scouting, earning the following merit badges: Agriculture, Animal Industry, Handicraft, Metal Work, Painting, Hog and Pork Production, Reptile Study, Weather, Corn Farming, Reading, Textiles, Sheep Farming and Farm Records & Bookkeeping.

                           Barry with Weston Ward Boy Scout troop—front row, third from right.

Mike Fonnesbeck was our Scoutmaster, Mom’s cousin, and a very effective leader.  One time we were at Downata Hot Springs working on swimming and lifesaving merit badges.  I had not perfected my swimming, despite ongoing efforts in the West Cache canal and Bear River.  So I was sitting at the deep end watching others swimming, when Mike came up behind me and pushed me in.  I swam for my life and had no problem swimming thereafter.

One of the highlights of the year was a dance (not a date) partnership with the prettiest girl in the high school, classmate Rhea Griffith, at the Junior Prom.

The summer following my Junior year my pal, Lynn Neuenswander, and I dated two girls from Dayton—Alice Moser and Marilou Balls.  After taking the gals home about midnight, I drove south half a mile to an intersection at a T-corner.  As I approached the corner, I tried the brakes but did not follow up on the soft braking.  So the car headed right into the big ditch bank with a crash.  I was draped around the steering wheel, and Lynn asleep in the back seat was thrown forward over my head into the sprung front door and bounced back outside the car to near the left rear tire.  

After I squeezed out from the steering wheel, I called to Lynn who lay moaning on the ground.  He had a concussion, which caused me to be really scared.  I stowed him in the car and then sprinted non-stop back to the Balls’ home.  There I called home to let them know our disaster.  After a couple of hours Lynn’s parents picked us up and took us home.  After a couple of days Lynn was OK .

The Plymouth was towed to White’s garage in south Dayton, where it took a couple of months and $500 to repair.  I earned all of the money to pay for the repair over the ensuing year.  Our family was relegated to riding in our 1935 Ford truck until the Plymouth was repaired.

In my Senior year (1946-47) I decided to get serious about studying and the result was that I gave the Salutatory speech (second to Valedictory).  I took part in a school play with both happy and negative feelings.   My brother, Tom, started grade school.

Inside of Weston High School 1947 Commencement Program:

A page of Barry’s salutary speech:

Although I don’t remember much about it, Dad spent the winter working at the mine in Ruby, Arizona, where Uncle Grover Duff was Superintendent.  This meant that we boys cared for the stock and milked the cows.  It seems that we had few cows to milk, so that it was not such a burden.

I was on the boxing and football teams, although I can’t remember much about the competition.  I was just a little guy, weighing in at about 130 pounds at year end.  

In 1947 my scouting effort eased off, earning only one merit badge: Horsemanship.  Earlier my pals in the scout troop had come near a national (?) record of something like 14 Eagles at one court of honor.  Since I had not done it too, the earning of Eagle was important to me.  But it would be later that I got my Swimming and Lifesaving merit badges while attending BYU. 

The following summer Lynn and I dated two cute girls from Preston, Verdeana Seamons and Nellie Perkins.  Nellie was the first girl I kissed, although I had played Post Office several years previous.  But most of the summer was spent in preparing for going to college.

In my last year of high school, Dad allowed me to buy a large sow that had been bred.  I think I paid something like $30 or $40 for her.  Eventually she had 11 piglets, which I sold with the mother for $400+, a substantial sum for my freshman year at BYU.

It probably was the summer of 1947 that I determined that I would finally thin an acre of beets, a goal that had been achieved by few, including my Dad and his two brothers, LeGrande and Victor.  I don’t remember how many times I thinned an acre in a day, but it was a proud time for me.  Uncle Vic recently confirmed that I had thinned an acre in a day, but how would he know, unless Dad told him?!  He suggested that it was much easier for them to thin an acre a day because they preferred to thin fields in Linrose where the ground was sandy and the beets were easy to thin.