“There is no power for change greater than a community discovering what it cares about.”
Remember When? Part 2
by Larry Downing
The previous account ended with the establishment of the SLO SDA elementary school. The teacher, Mrs. Smith, was put in a situation that tested her teaching and disciplinary skills.
There were approximately eight or nine students in that first year, scattered from grades 1 to 8. Linda, my sister, and Freeman Richards were in the first grade; Elvin (Sonny) Wical may have been a second grader. Same with Ruthi Ortez. I was the only 3rd grader. Darrel Richards was a 6th grader and Larry Richards was in the 8th grade. Keith Richards, a kid of probably 13 or 14 years of age, was a special needs person who suffered from epilepsy. He attended school but I don’t think he was assigned a grade.
On occasion Keith experienced what he called “A Spell.” His arms would tighten as he pulled them tight to his chest. He would drool and his eyes would close as he lost consciousness. At any time he might announce, in his difficult to understand speech, “I’m going to have a spell.” The person closest to him would hurry to his side to ease his collapse. After a few minutes the “spell” would ease and Keith would look around, stumble to his feet, and continue his activity. The experiences with Keith provided a quick introduction to people with disabilities. I do not recall any one teased him or made him uncomfortable.
Keith had a unique hobby. The Richards family lived across the street from the railroad tracks at the end of what is now Bullock Lane. Then it was an unnamed gravel road. Keith noted every caboose that passed the Richard’s home and wrote down the serial number printed on the side of every caboose. He had pages filled with caboose numbers. I’ve wondered what happened to those hundreds of pages filled with mysterious numbers.
Our SLO address was Route 2 Box 129. Our mailbox was in a row with others along Broad Street. Our street, now Rockview Place, had no name. Like many others outside the City Limits, the street was unpaved.
The telephone company that served San Luis did not have a dial system. We had a black Bakelite “candle stick” phone with the receiver hanging from a hook at the side. When we made a call, we lifted the receiver, an operator said, “Number Please,” and we told her the number. Our phone number was 965. “Doc” Freeman’s number was 335. The Richard’s phone number was 10F2. The Richards had a wooden wall phone with a large dry-cell battery nestled in a box at the base. The phone had a hand crank on one side, the receiver on the other side and a mouth piece at the end of a stick that stuck out from the front of the wooden box. To make a call, one lifted the receiver, turned the crank, and waited for the “Number Please.”
The line that served our house, Dad’s business and several other people in our neighborhood was a partyline. A partyline enabled anyone else on the line to listen to conversations of all those who shared the same line. A major complaint from partyliine clients was that only one party at a time could use the phone. If a partyline subscriber spoke for a long period, another person on the line may say, “That’s enough.” Great arguments were common among partyline clients.
Neither the church nor the school had a telephone. Made life easier for us students. If a kid got out of hand, and some of our classmates had made amazing progress in the art of causing a ruckus in a class room, it was not possible to call a parent or support people.