Our parents were part of what is now known as “The Greatest Generation.” Their lives were changed forever on Dec 7th 1941 when Imperial Japan bombed Pearl Harbor.
Men and women (for the first time) left their hometowns and went off to war in places no one had ever heard of. There was an evil loose in the world, and the whole country united to clean it up. When they got back their horizons had changed, and they wanted a better life for themselves and those they loved. Social Security was broadened to provide a retirement income for everyone. Health insurance and safer working conditions were demanded, and of course better schools for all colors of Americans were finally a reality. The G. I. Bill allowed eager young couples to own their own homes and start a family. The resulting Baby Boom still reverberates some 70 years later. As well-scrubbed members of the Livermore High School Senior Class of 1961, we were the products of those efforts.
Our class graduated 60 years ago this year, and since my son Mikey & I were in Monterey this summer (see the “Down In Monterey” story) we took a little side trip to Livermore to look around. I brought my senior yearbook with me.
That’s my friend Tina on the far left, Yearbook Photo Editor. This picture became the frontispiece for the 1961 yearbook, EL VAQUERO (The Cowboy). Everyone just happened to be standing there waiting for the bell to ring, so Tina put her camera on something solid, set the timer and jumped into the frame. Yep, seventeen and eighteen year old students really did dress that way back then. We were of all different nationalities, income levels, abilities, talents and backgrounds, and that was OK. We were all just trying to be our best selves … whatever that may be.
As freshmen, we were the Sputnik Class. For those of you who don’t remember, the USSR launched a basketball sized satellite in the summer of 1957 that was the first object to orbit the earth. The U.S. rocket program in ‘57 was barely more than a part-time hobby, and all of a sudden we needed to train more rocket scientists to Catch up with them Russians.
The Lawrence Livermore Radiation Laboratory (the RAD Lab) just outside of town is part of The University of California Berkeley, and one of our country’s leading research facilities. Suddenly it was drowning in money, and our school opened a brand new science building that fall.
About half the class were children of Lab employees, and half were from local farmers and ranchers that went back generations. All the incoming freshmen were given I. Q. tests to see if they could qualify for “College Prep” classes, to become rocket scientists I suppose. Those who didn’t make the cut went into Future Farmers of America (FFA) trade programs, and girls who were not “College Prep” trained for homemaking or secretarial skills. At least in the Freshman class, your choice of classes were made for you.
In spite of being prohibited from taking Auto Shop, my friends and I did cobble together several hot rods and a few motorcycles. That old saw about “God watches out for little children, dumb animals and helpless drunks”… should be extended to include “and teenage mechanics.”
The director George Lucas graduated high school in 1962 and filmed AMERICAN GRAFFITI largely in his home town of Modesto, about 45 miles from Livermore. We did all that stuff, or knew someone who did, including chaining the rear axle of a police cruiser to a large sturdy pole.
As far as I know, no one became a rocket scientist, and the USSR has ceased to exist. We now share an orbiting space station with the Russians, and lots of the FFA kids became more successful, at least moneywise, than the college kids.
Visiting the old school was interesting. The big handles on the lovely Spanish Revival front entry doors were chained shut (actual chain). You now enter campus through an ugly wire fence and a metal detector out in the parking lot. I didn’t bother trying.
The parking lot in our day usually had several well-used pickup trucks with gunracks in the back window. Small bore rifles and shotguns were necessary tools for those who lived on ranches, and no one thought it necessary to lock their truck’s doors. Who’d steal a family’s tools? Some guys wore pocketknives in small leather scabbards on their belts. Things sure change.
Of the classmates I still know, drugs, violence, and the betrayal of Viet Nam still show in the faces of some. Problems with children, and hope for grandchildren show in brave smiles. Failed marriage is a common topic. There are some obvious health problems, some aggravated by smoking, overeating, and some just by life. A surprising number have traveled around the world by every means possible, including flying, driving and sailing. Some are planning (hoping) to do it again.
There are PhDs, patent holders, doctors, and other symbols of societal esteem. Overall, I’d say there are lots of successes, lots of battles won, some draws, and some really hard lessons learned in defeat.
As Steve Jobs said in his Stanford graduation address shortly before he passed, you only connect the dots of your life by looking backward, to see how your choices resulted in who you are. It doesn’t work looking forward…you have to walk forward by faith.
I’d like to think that 17-year-old baby boomer who took his first steps into the world his parents created is still here somewhere. My Inner Child … disguised by the trappings of maturity? Wouldn’t it be great to bump into him on campus? After introducing myself, I’d ask him to sit down … please let me look into your eyes … and let’s talk.
Until next time, thanks for listening.
Duane