*some of the names have been changed to protect the guilty
At the beginning of the fall semester Santa Monica High School, Samohi for short, like just about every high school in the nation, was consumed by football. There were pep rallies, cheerleader tryouts, and all sorts of events to bolster school spirit. We weren't as bad as Texas high schools, but who were? It seemed as if the whole school was involved some way or another in football.
Most surfers, at least the ones I hung with thought it was simply lame.
Maybe this is time the to describe the Samohi student body social strata. All hung out in certain areas on campus. All had identifying uniforms. Rarely did they co-mingle. If they did it was generally confrontational.
First there was the Sosh's (socialites) these were kids from mostly upper middle class, north of Wilshire Blvd, popular, pretty, handsome, really excited by proms and shit like that, oh and white, very white. They hung out at the "Quad," where the flagpole was and the school "Seal."
The seal was a brass plaque set in the concrete steps in front of the main building on campus, more about the seal in later episodes.
Uniform: girls, Full skirts, white blouses, saddle shoes, although not required, or black flat shoes. Some wore penny loafers, but they were more of an East Coast phenom. Cheerleaders and all about school spirit. Puffy hair, mostly blond, short with a flip.
Boys, Slacks, button down shirts, with undershirt, white socks leather laced shoes, letterman's jacket, lest that crossed you over into the Jocks. Hair cut short and preppy.
Jocks, these were the athletes. Generally arrogant and self assured. the top of this group were, of course the football team. then Baseball, Track and on down the sports list.They were heavily aligned with the Sosh's. Black athletes, of course weren't often included nor did they give a shit. The jocks could hang at the quad by the seal.
Uniform: Boys, generally Sosh's with the required letterman's jacket. Sometimes Levi's and tennis shoes, called sneakers then. Hair cut short and preppy, because the coach dictated that.
Girl Jocks, They didn't exist socially. You hardly knew who they were. Girls just didn't do that stuff. Although they really did. They dressed mostly Sosh. Hair, puffy with a flip.
I don't think anybody thought the Sosh's were cool, except they thought they were cool, of course.
Unique to Samohi was a group that called themselves the "Squad". These guys, no girls, were cool. They hung out away from the Sosh's in the quad. They dressed in mostly dark to black pants and shirts. They were definitely part of the scene, popular, not shunned at all. Mostly what they had was attitude. It was like they knew something no one else knew and were laughing at everyone. They were also pretty bad ass, a fact they had individually proven on many occasions. Nobody fucked with them. One of the squad was a long time friend of mine so I never got any shit from them.
Sadly they mostly were the first to experiment with drugs and with the exception of a few ended up dead or homeless. My friend escaped all that because of his strong Italian family influence. I actually did think they were pretty cool.
The Eses (pronounced es-ays) These were the vatos, the Mexican American bad dudes. They were cool for sure. But they couldn't or wouldn't hang with the Sosh's, As if they even wanted to.
Uniform, Guys: usually a Pendleton wool, long sleeve, plaid shirt, buttoned tight to the neck worn either out or tucked in. Highly starched and creased Kaki pants worn high on the waist with a thin black belt. Black French toed shoes highly polished. Hair slicked straight back or a duck tail, sometimes a red or blue bandana.
Girls: Well dressed, skirts, white blouses, Hair: bouffant, big hair, lots of hairspray.
All in all these guys always looked clean and sharp. I liked most of these guys. I knew a lot of them, hell I delivered newspapers to their homes.
Surfers: These were guys from every social strata. Mostly the criteria was that you surfed. Actually most of the guys in the "Squad." Surfed and well too, though they didn't hang with the other surfers nor would they admit to surfing, not cool enough.
Uniform, Guys: a Pendleton wool long sleeve shirt, Like the Eses, but open at the collar. Other wise unbuttoned to the first or second button. Sometimes a teeshirt uderneath, if so the Pendelton was worn unbuttoned. Hair: As long as you could get away with. Samohi had a dress code and long hair got you right on the top of deans shit list. I and other surfers spent a lot of time dodging the dean of boys, who was a real dick. Pants: light or dark Corduroy or well worn Levis. Shoes: Mexican Huarache sandals, with rubber soles cut from used tires, bought in Mexico on a surf trip, or white Jack Percell tennis shoes, called, "smilies."
Jack Percell was a Canadian badminton champion. Purcell designed a canvas and rubber badminton sneaker for the B.F. Goodrich Company of Canada in 1935.The shoes, nicknamed "Blue Tips" and "Smilies," owing to the signature blue smile like stripe across the toe.
These were really the first of the modern athletic shoes everyone wears today. And they were expensive. My mother had a fit when she found out how much they cost. Even surfers were becoming slaves to fashion. "Forty bucks for canvas shoes, outrageous!"
Girls: Not many girls actually surfed. But there were, "Surfer Girls." Usually blond, Long straight hair, blue eyed, tan, long legged, athletic, and beautiful. At least I thought so.
Uniform; Cotton skirts, white tops, white tennis shoes. Very simple and clean looking.
Then there were the Nerds. Also known as, Geeks, Dweebs and Dorks. If we were in India they would have been untouchables.
Uniform: They dressed funny, some even wore ties to school. Odd shirts that their moms obviously picked out for them. Pants, slacks, hiked up to almost their armpits, and goofy shoes. Some carried briefcases, a total no no. Most were very smart and got very good grades.They were constantly harangued by just about everyone. Of course later on they became guys like Bill Gates and such. They were in the audio-visual club and ran the projector when a teacher wanted to show a film or a slideshow.
Girls: girls were so out of their realm it wasn't even funny.
Then there was the Band, they played at football, basketball games and such. They were loathed by most and laughed at by all. So naturally these people turned into rock stars and made tons of money and became ultra cool and got all the girls. Payback is a bitch, as the saying goes.
There was everybody else. Just normal kids, like the rest of us wrestling with puberty. They weren't part of a group went about their business without much drama.
At the very, very bottom of the pecking order was the R.O.T.C. , Reserve Officers' Training Corps. These guys were thought to be dips by everyone. I think even the dweebs thought they were lame.
Uniform: a real army, olive drab, like uniform. They would act as security at athletic events. At which a lot of them got their ass severely kicked by just about anyone they fucked with. They though they were bitchen and bad ass. They soon learned otherwise.
GirlsÖ there were none.
One of their main jobs was to raise and lower the American flag every day. The flag pole was located in the quad where all the Sosh's gathered and hung out.
Each morning just before The start of first period, over the school wide P.A. system, a bugle call would sound. Everyone, on campus was supposed to stop dead in their tracks and put their hand over their heart. Then the R.O.T.C. weenies would raise the American flag up the pole. When it reached the top and the lanyard was tied off one R.O.T.C. weenie would fire off a miniature ceremonial cannon that could be heard all over campus. In fact it was so loud you could hear it out in the water at Bay Street, a surf spot four blocks from the school. Shortly there after the school bell would ring, meaning you had ten minutes to get to first period.
Now this ceremonial cannon was a Winchester 98 Signal Cannon. This little piece of Americana was about 16 inches long over all, 7 inches high and the barrel was 12 inches long and unobstructed. It fired a 10 gauge shotgun shell blank. Which is the one of the most powerful shotgun shells made in the U.S. Even though the shells were blanks they still had a gunpowder charge that blew a ton of smoke and force out the barrel.
I mentioned that the barrel was unobstructed. This means that if one wanted to one could fire a non blank, 10 gauge shotgun shell in this gun and it could do a lot of damage, sending a fist full of buckshot at high velocity for several yards.
In a raised planter bed, in the quad, just outside of the attendance office was a very old mature date palm tree who's trunk was approximately four feet in diameter. Just in case something inadvertently was in the barrel the cannon was to be pointed at the base of that tree when fired off. Safety first, I always say.
One of these R.O.T.C. weenies lived next door to me. My dad felt sorry for him because he was such a geek and he had no dad only his mom. His mom was a very strange woman, often mean to him and pretty much neglected him.
In junior high I got into a ton of fights protecting him. He just couldn't learn when to keep his big mouth shut. And being a loyal friend I helped him out if I had to.
I vowed that this wouldn't happen in high school, he was on his own. So naturally he joined the lowest form of life group, the R.O.T.C. right off the bat.
All scholastic sports events in California are governed by the CIF, California Interscholastic Federation. CIF membership includes both public and private high schools.
The CIF determines which high school teams are allowed play to each other and governed athletics with many strict rules. This was set up in divisions and Samohi played in the same division with Long Beach High. The Samohi football team was called the Vikings and Long Beach were the Jackrabbits.
I mention all of this CIF stuff because it sets up the story I'm about to tell.
Someone, I have no idea who, it could have the student body council, the faculty, or some lame Sosh dweeb would make up a kind of slogan before each football game deriding the opposing team. Then this slogan is sent to the print shop and six inch by six inch cards were printed up with the slogan. Other schools did this too I think. Since Long Beach High were the, "Jackrabbits," The, "clever," slogan was, "Bomb Da Bunnies," I really don't think it could have been any lamer than if they were trying to be as lame as possible. These cards were distributed everywhere.
Enter our hero, Mr. R.O.T.C.. His job was with the morning flag ceremony. He fired the cannon that went off when the flag was unfurled. Each morning he would go into the attendance office, check out the cannon and one shotgun shell blank, place the gun behind the palm tree load the blank into the cannon and cock the hammer back. Then he would wait until the flag hit the top of the pole and he would yank on the lanyard and the gun would fire. Of course, the blank shell would fill the lower end of the quad with stinky, white smoke.
So Mr. R.O.T.C. gets this brilliant idea. I don't know if he was effervescing with school spirit, just thinking it was, "Cool." Or what. Of course Mr. R.O.T.C. wouldn't know what was cool even if cool bit him in the butt.
Anyway, our hero took one of the, "Bomb The Bunnies," cards, cuts two slits in it. One slit above the words and one below, then he slips a stick into the slits, and shoves the end of the stick into the ground. Next gathers up some leaves, small stones and assorted garf from the planter bed and packs them into the barrel of the cannon. Now he aims the gun at the, "Bomb The Bunnies," sign, on the stick. Somewhere in his plan he must have lost his presence of mind. Because the stick with the sign on it was not in front of the palm tree but to the right of it. So he actually moved the cannon over, to the right so it was in line with the sign.
Recently, some of the socialites had taken to congregating at the other end of the planter containing the old palm tree, the cannon and Mr R.O.T.C.. Maybe some spin off subsidiary socialite clique? I know not.
Obviously, our hero was so intent upon Bombing the Bunnies that he neglected to account for what was on the other side of his target.
The flag went up the pole, hit the top, and right on cue BOOM!
Now to give credit where credit is due our hero's aim was true. He succeeded in blasting the Bunnies sign to smithereens.
However, the sign's smithereens along with all the leaves, small stones and assorted garf Mr. R.O.T.C. stuffed into the barrel of the cannon, for ammo, continued traveling, at a rather high velocity, onward. Spreading in an ever widening pattern peppering the newly gathered socialites quite efficiently. In fact few were spared the on-slot of flying stuff.
If you thought the boom of the cannon was loud, it was nothing compared to the sound of the shit hitting the fan after that little stunt.
First off the faculty was embarrassed and stunned by the stupidity of the act.
Fortunately there were no real injuries. A few scratches, amazingly no eyes put out. But it really scared the shit out out of some of the socialites and their parents.
The socialite's parents were livid. These were the, "lived north of Wilshire Blvd." crowd. The, "Wealthier than thou," the so called elites. The faculty did a pretty good job of calming them down. After all their children were, "fragile," and "tender." They did have pull in the city and could have made life tough for the faculty. Eventually all that went away.
As for Mr R.O.T.C., I don't think there was an official ceremony where Our hero's epaulets were publicly ripped from his shoulders. Nor was there an official military rite ritually Drumming him out of the R.O.T.C. But I'm sure it wasn't pretty.
Actually all he got in the end was he was kicked out of the R.O.T.C. and received enough demerits to fill the outdoor greek theater on campus. But if he kept his nose clean and stayed out of trouble the demerits quietly went away by graduation.
As for the football game, the Long Beach Jackrabbits beat the crap out of us as did most teams we played that year.
But if the truth be told though
NOBODYÖ "Bombed The Bunnies,"
like Mr. R.O.T.C.