THE 1964 NORTHWOOD SCHOOL FAIR
By the summer of 1964, I had stretched
out my adolescence to the breaking point. The following summer would find me
working in a warehouse in downtown Baltimore, the summer after that, boot camp
in Fort Gordon, Georgia, the next summer, Long Binh, Vietnam.
Many events and adventures with the Northwooders were yet to come, but
the summer of ’64 was my farewell to the enchantment of the season, before work
and responsibility pushed the magic aside. Thankfully, it was a great summer,
maybe the best of my younger years. It began, as every summer did, with the
Northwood School Fair.
The Northwood School fair was the event that marked the official
beginning of summer vacation. Our school semester ended the third week in June.
The school fair was always the last Saturday of that month. The contingency
plan was to have it the first Saturday in July if there was a rainout, but, to
my recollection, that never happened. That Saturday was always a
beautiful early summer day.
The fair was held mostly outside (the
candy and plant sales were indoors) at the rear of the school.
I guess you could say it was sort
of a combination flea market/amusement park. Tables were set up around the
school's perimeter for selling contributed items like clothes, tools, and even
records. There were also stands selling hot dogs, sodas, snowballs, and cotton
candy. There were pony rides and various beanbag-tossing games.
The fair opened at nine AM, but my
brother and I would get there early to help a friend's mom set up the tables.
After that, we were on our own. The gang would start showing up one or two at a
time during the morning hours until all were present and accounted for.
Let me say right now that it was never our intent to create mischief at
the fair. We started the day in a courteous and polite fashion. But by early
afternoon, after checking out all the tables, playing most of the games, and
eating a couple dozen twenty five cent hot dogs, we were getting
restless. Sitting on the crest of a grassy hill, watching all the
action, some of us noticed a child open a rear door to the school
before being scolded by his mother.
The Northwooders happened to know that
door was always locked because we had often tried to enter it on
weekends. We simultaneously looked at each other with the same thought in our
heads; a hangout.
We raced down the incline and into the
door. We found ourselves on the first floor of a stairwell. For a while, we
were content to lounge around on the steps, listening to the commotion outside.
Before long, we became restless, tired of sitting and talking, and decided to
explore a bit.
At the top of the stairs was another
door. It too was unlocked and, to our amazement, opened up into the school gym.
We couldn't
believe our luck. What started out started out as a somewhat forgettable
stairwell adventure had now suddenly developed into much more. The gym had
ropes hanging from the ceiling and tied down to the walls. An assortment of
balls littered the floor from small dodge balls to huge medicine balls. A large
piano occupied one corner of the facility.
I'm not sure to this day the purpose of
a piano in a gym. It was an elementary school so maybe the kids climbed ropes
to Beethoven or Mozart. At the time nobody paid it much mind. The ropes held most
of our attention.
Once untied, we
began to swing around the room with wild abandon. It was such a unique thrill
to have a fully functional gymnasium to ourselves that one of us went outside
to spread the word.
Soon the gym was
filled with boys taking advantage of this once in a lifetime opportunity. All
the ropes were being used by at least one boy. Some had two or three hanging
from them. Balls of all sizes flew about the room, some aimed at the swingers,
others at the walls and ceiling.
At some point, it
was decided that the piano would make a good launching pad for the ropes. It
was rolled out to the center of the gym and while one talented young man played
a medley of Jerry Lee Lewis standards, others jumped off its surface, swinging
out on their improvised Tarzan swings.
It was around this
time that we realized our shouts, yells, and off key rendition of 'Great Balls
Of Fire' had drawn the attention of a few adults. We saw them crowded outside
the door that led to a school hallway. Fortunately for us, that door was locked
from the inside.
They were trying
desperately to get in. From the door's small glass opening we could see their
mouths moving frantically, but the din in the room prevented us from hearing
their words. One woman in particular seemed in obvious distress. Every time a
guy would mount the piano she would open her mouth wide in what looked like a
scream, but, as I said, we couldn't hear her.
Suddenly, it
appeared that a light bulb turned on simultaneously over all their heads. They
had figured out our point of entry.
As fun as this
was, no one really wanted our day to end with police officers escorting us
home.
We took off in a
flash, at least thirty of us, leaping down the stairwell and out the door.
Adults outside scattered to avoid being trampled by the onslaught. It was
several seconds of sheer chaos.
Most of the guys
mixed into the crowd, heavy panting the only obvious sign of their shenanigans.
Our gang headed back up the hill in time to see several quite angry adults
enter our former hangout.
The remainder of
the day was a rather normal affair. A couple of us were kicked out of the plant
room after a shoving match knocked over some azaleas. One of our gang took a
pony ride when he thought we weren't looking. But we saw him and gave him grief
throughout the summer. But mostly we ate hot dogs and cotton candy and talked
about how we'd spend the rest of our vacation.
I can't remember how many more years
the Northwood School fair continued. It wasn't many. It was, despite our
occasional ill behavior, a unique social event that defined the innocence of
the sixties. Like many memories from that time, it was irreplaceable.
Oh and by the way,
that door was tested many times during the course of the summer, but it was
always tightly locked.