Teenage Woes

 Teenage Woes the Same Then As Now

By Bob West

July 20, 2000

 

In 1927 the school board opened bids to build a new gymnasium on Main Street. (This building still stands, across from the post office). This would replace the one built in the early 1900s by the high school manual training class, located north of the original wooden schoolhouse on the north hill. My dad told me that the school accepted donated labor and his father (my grandfather) had worked two weeks on the project, about half of it in sub-zero weather. According to J.D. (Judge) Kincaid, the lot where the new gym was to be built, was the site of the area’s first stationary threshing machine, operated by John Ladow. The first grain threshed was from a three-acre field north of the river, in the area of the present Church Street. In later years this was the location of one of three livery stables doing business in Palouse.

The new gym was completed in 1928 and for the next 14 years was used for sporting events, dances, graduations, class plays, concerts, public meetings, and all community events. I have many memories of this old building, but the most vivid is the last Junior Prom that was held there.

This event, at that time, was for upperclassmen only. Freshmen and sophomores could attend only if asked by one of the older students. I was dating Marilyn, a sophomore at the time, and so asked her to be my date for this special social event. A few days earlier we had attended a movie at our local theater. I don’t remember the name of the film but I do remember the star was Tyrone Power. He was a very handsome guy and the heartthrob of most of the girls. In several scenes, he was wearing white flannel slacks, a black dinner jacket, a white shirt and a black bow tie. A white handkerchief was carefully folded into the breast pocket of his jacket. This gave him an especially debonair appearance, a classic touch, so to speak. I had to agree with my girl that Tyrone was very handsome, but I did tire of her constant talking of him. I imagine I had to be a little jealous of him, but doggone it, maybe I could be just as good looking if I had the same kind of outfit. I lucked out. I found out from our commercial teacher, who was also our drama coach, that I might be able to rent suitable clothes from the University of Idaho drama department. One afternoon I drove my trusty 1924 Franklin touring car to Moscow and rented exactly what I wanted. I already had a pair of black dress oxfords, and since I was a professional shoeshine boy when I was just a kid in downtown Palouse, I knew I could put a fine shine on the shoes. I did have to spend 25 cents on a new white handkerchief though.

The Wednesday before the big event, I was in the bathroom getting ready for school. When I looked into the mirror, I saw a very happy and confident face, and why not? I was dating the cutest girl in school and I was sure I would be the best-dressed male at the dance. Then I took a second look, and then a third. This couldn’t be happening. Mother heard me exclaim and came running to see what was wrong. She didn’t have to ask. Perched on the end of my nose was the largest, ugliest zit I had ever seen! I swear it was as large as a bing cherry and just as red. My first impulse was to give it a big pinch, but Mom warned it would only make it worse, and assured me it would be gone by Saturday. I didn’t want to go to school that day. I knew the kids would have a great joke at my expense, because of this monstrous disfigurement, but in those days students had to be at death’s door before getting excused from school. It was the longest day of the year for me. Although no one said anything about it, they sure stared at me. When Marilyn saw it, her eyes got wider and she gave a gasp. I was certain she was going to break the date with me, but she never mentioned the hateful thing.

After school, I went to the Rexall Pharmacy, and the druggist, Bob Smith, took one look at me and handed me a tube of “Denver Mud”, a cure-all for all kinds of ailments. Mr. Smith told me it would draw out the poison. The ointment was sort of a forerunner of “Clearasil”. I applied a goodly amount of this potion before retiring that night, hoping the zit would be gone the next morning. Upon arising though, it was still there, just as red and ugly as ever. One of my sympathetic friends told me his mother used the white of an egg for a poultice for things like this.

I was getting desperate by now, so I decided to give it a try. I must have wasted a half dozen eggs before I got some to stay on. The next morning my nose was not only red and ugly but was covered with a strange white film. Another cure down the drain. One last try. I had at times, cured water blisters by piercing them with hot needles. Would this be the answer? I heated a needle red hot with a match, and bravely and painfully put several holes in this dreadful thing. The next morning I got up with high hopes, but alas it was still there, worse than ever, now with three black holes in it. The zit seemed to have taken on a life of its own! I was going to have to live with it. Maybe I could just hide it with some of Dad’s talcum powder. On the morning of the big day, I jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror, hoping the whole thing was just a big nightmare. No such luck.

I was too nervous to eat much supper that night and began getting ready as soon as I got up from the table. I spent about 20 minutes folding and refolding my new handkerchief and placing it in the breast pocket of my jacket. It had to be just right – Tyrone Power style. Being the klutz that I still am, I asked Mom to apply the talcum powder to my nose, knowing I would have it all over my black jacket. I felt like a sissy when she used her powder puff, but I have to admit she did a good job. The zit, of course, was still there, but sort of camouflaged. At least that was what I wanted to believe.

My buddy Revere Lazelle and I had a plan all worked out for the evening. He was going to borrow his mother’s car, pick up his date, pick me up, and then my date. It didn’t work out as planned. Our parents wanted pictures taken of their kids in all their finery and agreed to meet at our house for the picture taking. We were all posed when my mother gave me a final inspection. I thought I had passed, but all of a sudden, in a motherly fashion, she yanked the folded hanky from the pocket of my jacket, spit-ooed on it, not once but twice, and began scrubbing a spot (imaginary I'm sure) on my forehead. This universal cleanser has been used by mothers for centuries to clean off the faces of babies and young kids. Can you imagine how embarrassing it was for me – a junior in high school – to have this done in front of my friends and their parents? After she completed the scrubbing she tried to refold the handkerchief and replace it in my pocket, but it was wrinkled and tainted by now and I wanted no part of it, even though it spoiled my Hollywood image. Oh well.

The only seating in the building where the prom was held was the balcony on the east and west side. This was where the friends and parents sat and watched the event. During the grand march, I knew all of these people were looking at me and wondering why my nose was glowing and what was that strange red streak on my forehead? To make matters more embarrassing for me, Dad was on the school board and the board members were invited to the dance. Imagine being at the same party as these old people!

After the grand march, the real agony began. I knew I was the worst dancer on the floor and I hated dancing. My date though had filled her dance card so I had to dance (or try to) with girls I didn’t care for. What a drag! The girls were obviously just enduring my feeble efforts. At long last, the final dance ended and we drove to Pullman for a treat. On the way back we planned to find a place to “park” with our girls but time ran out. As it was, I was about 15 minutes late getting Marilyn home and was soundly reprimanded by her father. I didn’t even get a good night kiss.

The social event of the year was over and I felt a great sense of relief. Was this the way it was supposed to feel? It is said that all problems are relative, and what is a minor problem for an adult can be a major crisis for a teenager. Although this is not what I imagined I would remember of my first big social date, it did give me a sense of compassion and understanding when the very same thing happened to my teenage daughter (our noses resemble each other’s anyway) 30 years later. When she left for the prom with her date and a lustrous nose, I felt as if I were going with her, and did a certain amount of suffering all evening. But in the end, we all survived, as people will always do.  Thank goodness everything passes.