We May Have Been “Silent”
But We Rocked Around the Clock
June
Baxter
If
you remember Bill Haley and the Comets playing “Rock Around the Clock,” then
you’re in my age group. That song marked the beginning of my life as a college
student.
How well
I remember living in a boarding house at San Jose State, where, after dinner,
we girls would crank up Haley’s classic tune, line up on the linoleum floor in
the dining room, and practice our moves. How forgiving were our housemother and
father.
What a
time it was! We fell in love with Marlon Brando in “On the Waterfront.” We
pledged various sororities. We had coffee in “The Coop” and tried smoking
L&M or Viceroy cigarettes. My best friend gave me a red leather cigarette
case and lighter, which I hid in a drawer so my parents would not know. Never
learning how to inhale, however, my life as a smoker was thankfully
short-lived.
Joining
the sorority was an exhilarating experience. Our house was a historic home in
San Jose, once owned by a judge. I felt so grown up just to be sharing one
large upstairs room with three other girls. We washed our hair in the tub
(requiring creative contortions), held our chapter meetings in the stately
living room with its beautiful crystal chandelier and marble fireplace, and
crowded around long tables in the dining room each evening.
One
tiny closet didn’t begin to hold all of our wool skirts, cashmere sweaters and
saddle shoes, the classic school wardrobe of our era. A bay window overlooked
East San Antonio Street. From this vantage point, we could keep our eye out for
the fraternity guys who passed by every day. How handsome they were with their
crew cuts, cuffed jeans and white socks.
Living
in a sorority house with our housemother, a sweet little lady, Mrs. Brown,
meant we had lots of rules:
• Do
not leave any object lying on your bed after 8 a.m.
• Do
not wear pants or shorts on campus.
• Do
not smoke while walking between classes.
• Do
not hide liquor in room.
• Do
not host any male visitors save for a relative above the first floor.
• Do
not stay out past 11 p.m. on school nights and midnight on weekends (except 2
a.m. if a special occasion, and only once a semester).
I was
in heaven! Having shared my bedroom with my elderly grandmother throughout
junior and senior high schools and being an only child, I loved having so many
sisters. And the rules were not so different from the ones already followed at
home. Hey, it was the 1950s after all.
I
majored in Business (Marketing) and minored in English, with loads of homework
(about which I complained endlessly). Fewer than 8,000 students attended San
Jose State, which meant we could usually get our classes and our “tuition” was about
$50 a semester.
Friday
afternoons brought beer busts with the fraternity guys we kept our eyes on.
Loud music accompanied our playful repartee: Elvis Presley kept us moving with
“All Shook Up” and Little Richard, “Tutti-Frutti.” When in a more romantic
mood, we slow-danced to “Only You” (the Platters) and Al Hibbler’s “Unchained
Melody.”
In
many ways, it was an innocent time. Korean War vets were back home and
attending college. Ike was president. Moms were homemakers and dads brought
home the bacon. Violence was unheard of back then.
Almost
all of us were middle-class kids who wanted a college education on our way to a
job that we expected to support us. Our dreams included early marriage, three
or four children, and a home in one of the brand-new housing developments
sprouting up all over the Santa Clara Valley. And we would live happily ever
after.
Our
perfect lives that had begun with “The Wedding March” and soon had us singing
“Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” began to change, as did the music.
•
Lost your job? “Proud Mary” (Creedence Clearwater Revival).
•
Suddenly single? “Leaving On a Jet Plane” (Peter, Paul & Mary).
• Our
leaders assassinated? “Abraham, Martin & John” (Dion).
• Off
to war? “Eve of Destruction” (Barry McGuire).
•
Women going back to work? “I am Woman, Hear Me Roar” (Helen Reddy).
We
may have been the silent generation, but oh baby, we never stopped rocking
around the clock! (Now, however, rocking chairs on the front porch may be more
our style.
