Locker #3

During the summer before I got to high school, Terry a year ahead of me in school, asked me to locker with him. I, of course, agreed not realizing the implications. Lockers on Football Players row in the new addition were to be coveted. Usually only juniors and seniors got in that section. Terry had somehow smoozed the girl who was working in the office and in charge of assigning the lockers. He assured me we would be there and in locker #3 of all places, just inside the west door of the wing.

When I registered, sure enough, I was assigned to locker #3. The combination was 3 to the left, 18 to the right, and then 24 to the left. (I don’t know why I can remember that?) Terry warned me that the upper classman weren’t going to like it but I should just play it cool and not say anything no matter what they said to me.

It was inevitable that I was soon recognized in the hall and told no freshman was allowed in that hall. Many knew me because my sister Loretta was a senior that year. I said my locker was there and stood there meekly. Terry came around the corner and to my rescue. They didn’t like him being there either because he was only a sophomore but they didn’t want to mess with him.

One person, Pat Coghlan in locker #1, let me know daily that I shouldn’t be there but he never actually did anything to me. He just grumbled a lot about me being there. I took Terry’s advice and kept my mouth shut and tried to avoid Pat Coghlan when I could.

On an unusually warm day in November just after lunch I was standing at my locker. The halls were empty and I was going to be late for class if I didn’t hurry. The doors to the west were propped wide open. I saw Pat park his car along the alley that ran west of the building and come across the lawn and into the building. I thought, “Oh boy, here it comes again!”

Pat went straight to his locker and then looked over at me and said, “Somebody shot President Kennedy.” He said he heard it on the news when he was home for lunch. He grabbed some books out of his locker, slammed it shut, and went to class.

By the end of that period rumors that Kennedy was dead were flying around the school. Soon after the next period started the principal got on the intercom and said the rumors were not true and that we should focus on our schoolwork. Near the end of the period the principal got back on the intercom and said we were having an assembly in the auditorium.

We all gathered in the auditorium and the assistant principal announced from the stage that President Kennedy had been killed and the details surrounding it were still not clear. He then told us we could go home. At home, on the evening news, we watched as the story unfolded. In the days to come we watched the film of the President being hit over and over. It was a frightening thing for a 14 year-old kid. We didn’t know what to expect. Would we be going to war? Who would do this? Later, we saw the alleged assassin gunned down as he was walking through a police station.

I think many kids my age were changed by the whole experience. People still ask where I was when Kennedy was killed and I say, “I was at locker #3.” Now it is “where were you when you first heard about 9/11?” My granddaughters may be telling that story someday.