Things were different then. The old adobe school had been torn down a year or two
previously. The only building usable was the poured concrete structure that now houses the
office and library.
Grades 1 through 6 shared this building. We had two teachers. A woman teacher for
grades 1 through 3. I don't recall her name but I do remember her spoiled rotten red
headed daughter who was in the upper grades with me. The teacher for the upper grades was
Mr. Lavoy. What I remember about him was he was great, young, short, flat top haircut,
always had halitosis, was single, drove a Model B Ford with rumble seat, loved softball,
and when mad could throw chalk with envied accuracy and force.
The school had no fence but was surrounded instead by tamarisk bushes (great for
hunting lizards and snakes to chase the girls with at recess). No grass, just sand. One
large cottonwood tree served double duty, as the closest thing we had to a jungle jim and
as shade for the classes we held under its' branches in the spring and fall.
The school in those days was our community center, voting place, meeting place, and the
center of all winter time social activity. Going to the school at night was special. It
was one of the very few buildings in Newberry that had electricity.
Weeks of anticipation followed when word got around Newberry that there was going to be
a dance at the school. Such was the case of the 1948 New Years Eve dance.
Preparation for the dance started days in advance. Ryerson's market in Daggett would
get a run on Wild Turkey, Jim Beam and other assorted distilled bottled spirits. Money
would be pooled for a trip to the Barstow Woolworth store to collect the needed
decorations.
On the day of the dance the women would stay at home making sandwiches, cakes, pies,
cookies, chile, etc. while the men and teens armed with ladders, scissors, string and tape
would converge on the school. The men would remove the banks of desks without spilling the
ink in the wells. Chairs and benches lined the walls. Decorations were the eminent domain
of the teen girls who directed the labors of the boys with firm authority. When it was
agreed that all was in readiness, the school was left in all of its crepe paper splendor
while its' adorners retreated home to spiffy up for the great event.
At around 8PM folks would start to arrive. The women and kids all carrying bowls and
bags of food would come in admiring the decorations. Mrs. Dorrance and Mom Bodine would
take charge of gathering the food and putting it someplace out of the way until midnight
refreshment time. With much fuss and laughter, final repairs and minor modifications to
decorations were made. While all of this was going on, the men, out in their cars and
trucks were making their final preparations also. Seals were broken, corks pulled, samples
taken and bottles stashed under seats.
At the east end of the building there was a raised platform for the band. Ah the band,
all local talent. The upright piano was played by Banji. Walt Saul played a wicked fiddle.
Dutch Dorrance on the banjo and mandolin. Pop Bodine called the squares. Everyone looked
unusual to me, kinda hard to recognize. The women in bright colored petty coated full
skirts that bounced when they walked. The men in new jeans and shirts, scrubbed and
shaved, tan lines evident on hatless foreheads.
The band would tune up as the young kids fought for a seat on the edge of the stage.
The teens who had been working together as a coed cadre all day, now formed gender groups.
The boys over in one corner talking in nervous animation. The girls over in another corner
all cackles and giggles. Both groups stealing quick glances at the other, hopefully
without making eye contact. Then Pop Bodine would call for a slow one to limber up with
and the dance was underway.
These dances served a wonderful purpose in our community. They allowed us to see the
other side of people and really get to know one another. New people and visitors where
taken under wing. Pushed and pulled through square dances. Taught the shottish. (In fact I
think that is how Uncle Ernie broke his collarbone.)
The rate of nervousness experienced by all at the beginning dissipated in direct
proportion to the frequency of trips made to the car between dances. A newcomer or visitor
to Newberry only had to attend a dance at the school in the winter or Pop Bodines' in the
summer for that first step on the road to becoming an old timer.
A dance at the school is just one remembered event in my past, however it is one of the
many things that went into making me who I am today. I would like to believe that I am a
better person for having been exposed to Newberry in my youth. It is people making the
best of things, enjoying one another, being involved with neighbors and community. What
are our kids going to remember about growing up in Newberry? Crime? Drugs? Or will they be
encouraged to become involved in the community and to see just what can be done when
people all pull together in work and play.
Copyright 1995, William E. Smith, All Rights Reserved
Newberry Springs Chamber of Commerce
P.O. Box 116
Newberry Springs, CA 92365
Phone: (760) 257-1072
