The 70's was a decade that saw many changes and events in our world--the end of the Viet Nam war and the impeachment of a U.S. President to name a couple. Listed below are some major and not so major events that occured during our Junior High and Senior High school years. I've also included a couple of blog entries I wrote about growing up in our "small town." If you have some memories or comments you'd like to submit, send them to me. Enjoy the trip down memory lane.
 


Keith Whitfield
Website Administrator

Links on this Page
» Major News Events from the 70s
» Top 20 Pop Tunes in 1976
» Top Five Movies from 1976
» Major "Events" in 1976
» Top Five Television Shows in 1976
» Memories From a Small Town - Part 1
» Memories From a Small Town - Part 2
» Memories From a Small Town - Part 3

Major News Events from the 70s
(Source: inthe70s.com)

• Kent State shooting - May 4, 1970
• The Beatles release Let It Be, their last album - 1970
• Apollo 13 mission - 1970
• Supreme Court rules desegregation constitutional - 1971
• Voting age lowered to 18 - 1971
• George Wallace shot while campaigning - 1972
• Last man on the moon, Eugene Cernan - December 1972
• Nixon releases Watergate tapes - 1973
• Vietnam War Ends - 1973
• Nixon resigns - 1974
• Saigon falls to communism - 1975
• Founding Of Microsoft - 1975
• Bicenntenial of United States - 1976
• Treaty to signover Panama Canal passed - 1977
• President Carter Pardons VietNam Draft Dodgers - 1977
• Jonestown massacre - 1978
• Ayatollah Khomeini took power in Iran - 1979

Top 20 Songs from 1976 (Source: about.com)

Top Five Movies from 1976 (Source: Super70s.com)

• Carrie
• Car Wash
• Two-Minute Warning
• Logan's Run

Major Events in 1976 (Source: Assorted)

• CB radio popularity peaks
  656,000 CB radio applications were filed each month in 1976
• First Cray Supercomputer
• Betamax and VHS VCRs released
• First Apple® Personal Computer
• Raid on Entebbe "Operation Thunderbolt"
• Gerald Ford was President

Top Five Television Shows in 1976 (Source: Assorted)

Memories From a Small Town - Part 1
(Originally written 06/14/2007)
I grew up near a small town. Everybody knew everybody. The same families that ran the town in old days, were still running the town when we moved there...and when we left. Tulsa is about 15 miles away, but pretty much everything we needed-you could find it "in town."

The main business section of Main Street was about 5 to 6 blocks long. On one end of town was the lumber yard and the Farmers Coop. There was another feed store across the street. There were several "gas stations/mechanics" on Main; we also had a Tastee Freez and the locally owned "Cardinal Dairy Dip" (they were located on opposited ends of town). At one point, we had three grocery stores. Only one still exists (under a different name). We had a movie theatre--Crown Theatre--where you could see the latest movies...a couple of months after they opened in the big cities. I spent many a Saturday afternoon at the Crown, where $1 paid your admission and got you a "pop" and a candy bar or popcorn!

We always called anything carbonated "pop."
"Wanna pop?"
"Yeah."
"What kind?"
"Dr. Pepper."

The other end Main was lined with houses for about 6 to 8 blocks. A lot of them are still there today. I love the houses on Main street. Most of them are "craftsman" style; some one and some two-stories. Some day, I want to move back into one of those houses.

Things were different then. For instance, many of the merchants didn't accept credit cards--in fact, I don't remember credit cards being that common--but, you could buy things on credit simply by signing for it. No credit applications, no lengthy payment agreements. You just went into the store, picked up the things you needed and when you checked out, the clerk simply had you sign the "ticket," or he/she would retrieve a receipt book from behind the counter (every customer had their own book), record the transaction and you would sign that. Once a month, you dropped by the store(s) and paid your bill. Pretty simple. The store owner trusted that if you signed, you would pay. Because of that trust, you were "loyal" to the store owner. In most of the stores, I knew the owner by name and they knew me...just like "Cheers," we would greet each other by name when I came through the door.

One grocery store in particular seemed to cater to the "older folks" in town. "Mr. B." owned the store that had been in town for years. The store was simple; no fancy displays or elaborate shelving; they also had an old-fashioned meat counter in the back. Several of my buddies worked at the store over the years. What was memorable to me about Mr. B's store, was that, no matter how much some of the customers were behind in their credit payments, he never refused to allow them to shop. In fact, I've been told that, on many occasions, Mr. B would cut a patron's bill in half because he knew they couldn't pay. Mr. B was a very generous, caring fellow...so much so, that the store ended up closing. I suspect his genoristy may have had a lot to do with the store's demise. Mr. B died several years ago, but I think about him and his caring spirit everytime I drive by the old store location...

"...whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." --Matthew 25:40

Memories From a Small Town - Part 2
(Originally written 07/09/2007)
I was talking with a gentleman this weekend that was my middle school principle back in the early 70's. We ran into each other at the funeral of a mutual friend (more on that in a minute). After the formalities of "How are you doing?" "You look the same!" "What have you been up to?", we settled into a brief conversation about our hometown and how "they just don't make 'em like that anymore."

"It was a great town. Almost like stepping into another time," he said. And I had to agree. Things were simplier in our town. Things moved a little slower. EVERYBODY went to the football games on Friday night. The Homecoming parade down Main Street was a big deal. Businesses were bascially closed on that Friday afternoon when the high school band led the parade of decorated cars and floats overflowing with cheerleaders, little league football players, kings, queens, and "attendents"...The "Band Boosters" sponsored a fundraiser dinner at the elementary school cafeteria right before the big Homecoming game. Seems like everyone went to that, too.

You had to arrive at the game at least an hour before kickoff or you didn't get a seat, but that didn't matter to the "old-timers"; they stood on one end of the field and hung on the fence surrounding the field while the kids played "tag" or football underneath the bleachers. The smell of popcorn, coffee, and hot chocolate from the "Junior Class Concession Stand" filled the crisp evening air of "football season."

As with any small town, we had our share of "characters/memorable folks"; some more memorable than others for various reasons. We had one fellow, "John", that pretty much stayed in a constant state of drunkenness. He would stand on the street corner and scream obscenities at the passing cars. Of course, being honery kids, we would drive by and provoke him! (There's really not a lot "to do" in a small town some days.)

One of the more memorable people from my small town was one of the local family physicians. I always called him "Doc." He looked like a "Doc". Doc had the C-O-L-D-E-S-T stethoscope in town! It didn't matter if the thing was hanging around his neck when he walked in the room---the danged thing was ICE COLD! I accused him of storing it in the freezer just to be annoying.

Doc was never in a hurry; he always had time to tell a story--he always had a story to tell. He would poke and press, all the while asking: "does that hurt?"; "how 'bout that, does that hurt?" He always looked in your ears-- didn't matter what was wrong with you or what you said "hurt"...he always looked in your ears. Finally, he'd come up with a diagnosis; it was always the "right one." He would write out a prescription we could take to the "Rexall" drug and get filled. Then he would patiently sit and answer any questions you might have--never hurried. Always smiling. You were the only patient he had, or at least that's the way he treated you.

Doc had a daughter that was my age; we went to the same church; we ran around with the same group of kids. We graduated together--so I saw Doc when I was sick, and lots of times when I was well. That was 30+ years ago. Doc died last week. Friends and family gathered to honor his memory, to shed a few tears and LOTS of great stories. Doc lived a good life. He loved his family, his Lord and Savior...and I believe he loved his patients. We'll miss you, Doc.

Memories From a Small Town - Part 3
(Originally written 08/28/2007)
School started around here last week. I remember growing up feeling excited and, at the same time, sad about the beginning of school. It meant summer was over. No more spending the day riding bikes, fishing in the ponds around our house, swimming at the "strip pits" or the city pool. It meant going back to a regular bedtime during the week and for sure, no sleeping in!

Going back to school also meant new clothes and new shoes. I think I was in fourth grade--I got a new pair of "PF Flyers" (we called them "tennis shoes" or "sneakers"); I could run REALLY fast in those things! The new school year meant school supplies, which depending on your grade, could be pretty simple or a little more involved. In first grade, we needed a "Big Chief Tablet" and two pencils...the big fat ones, and a box of Kleenex! In Junior High or High School you needed a couple of notebooks, some pencils, a pen, colored pencils (for coloring a map of all 77 counties in Oklahoma), a compass (if you were taking Mrs. Dutton's geometry class), and maybe a three-ring binder with some loose-leaf paper. Today? The list is an entire page and includes a $800 calculator that is REQUIRED for any math class. My first calculator cost over $100 (1974) and did basic math functions, square root, and a couple of geometric functions, i.e. sin, cos, tan, etc. Today's calulators have enough number crunching power to fly the first (or maybe even current) space shuttles!

I'll never forget my first day of school--first grade. I had already attended kindergarten in the city were we had lived prior to moving to "the country." Now, because we lived out of town, I rode the bus to school. I also rode the bus, because my Mom didn't drive. It was 1964 and she did not have a driver's license. Anyway, getting on the right bus was easy--it pulled up to our driveway that morning and I got on. Getting home that afternoon was a little different. Being all of 6-years-old, I hadn't paid attention to the number of the bus I had ridden that morning.

When the bell rang that afternoon, everyone ran out to get in the bus lines. I ran out too...and there they were--not just the ONE bus I thought would be there, but the ENTIRE FLEET of buses, waiting to take all of us home! I had no idea which "bus route" I was on--I just knew MY bus was yellow and it had a lot of seats in it. I grabbed a teacher and nearly in tears, explained my situation. "Can you call your Mom or Dad at home and find out which bus you're supposed to ride," she asked. "No" I replied. "We haven't got our phone hooked up yet." Now what was I supposed to do? I don't recall how she determined which one, but the teacher finally put me on a bus, assuring me "this one will get you home." "Okay. Everything's good," I thought to myself.

About ten minutes into the bus ride, I began to recognize some landmarks. Yes, I remember the dairy down the road--and there's the house with the swimming pool (not vey common back then). I'm close to home; I'm going to make it! I looked out the front of the bus and there it was...our new house...and there was my mom, sitting on the front porch waiting for me to get off the bus and tell her all about my first day of school in our new town.

Then it happened; not 100 yards from our driveway, the bus TURNED LEFT onto a dirt rode HEADING AWAY FROM OUR HOUSE! I jumped from my seat and ran to the front of the bus. "You missed my house!" I shouted at the driver. "You're supposed to drive by the MY house." The driver firmly told me to take my seat. "But my house!" I cried. He didn't seem to care and he made it known that he had no intention of turning that bus around. He had a specific route and he was not going to deviate from it! I slumped down in my seat. I was never going to see my mom or dad again...or my little brother. Why had the teacher put me on the wrong bus? Why wouldn't that bus driver stop!? I sat there. I sat there and watched the other kids, one by one, get off the bus until I was the only one left. THEN, the bus driver said: "Now, let's see if we can find your house."

"What in the world is he thinking?!" I thought to myself. I had no idea where I was. I didn't know our address (which at the time was "Rural Route 1 Box something"). I couldn't tell him where I lived to save my soul! And so, we drove and we drove and we DROVE for what seemed like hours, but nothing looked familar to me. The driver retraced the route, but I was all turned around and scared. Finally, the driver said he had to get the bus back to the "bus barn" and that we'd try to call someone when we got there.

I remember thinking to myself: "Why hadn't I just jumped out the bus window. ANYTHING would be better than this!" By now, it was getting late, or at least it seemed like it was to me. I was scared, tired, and hungry...and I was riding in a school bus going to who knows where in hopes of somehow, miraculously finding my house. We arrived at the bus barn and parked the bus. As we were getting off the bus, I woman approached the driver. Turns out, Mrs. Hargrove was a teacher at the elementary school. Why she was in the vicinity of the bus barn at that time of day I'll never know, but I was certainly glad to see someone I thought I recognized. The bus driver explained the situation and she agreed to take over the quest to get me home. Her plan? Drive me around town until I recognized something or someone. Great plan, eh?

Well, I don't mind telling you that I wasn't very hopeful by this time. My first day of first grade had been a DISASTER and we were'nt going to find my house. What a dumb plan!...and this woman was a teacher?! Now I was going to be an orphan and grow up without a family! I'd be taken to an orphanage far away and that would be the end of that! No more parents, no more little brother, no more new house in the country, no more...then it happened. I looked up and saw him. It was my DAD! He was driving right toward us on Main Street! And he was looking for ME!!!

"There's my Dad!" I shouted. "There's my Dad!" Pointing and waving, I continued to shout, while Mrs. Hargrove frantically pounded on the car's horn and waved, trying to get my Dad's attention. Dad saw us and pulled his car over; we did the same and I jumped out of Mrs. Hargrove's car! I've got to tell you, that's the best ride home I've EVER had. I told Dad all about how I had gotten on the wrong bus---I made sure I told him about the teacher, too. Then we got home and I told Mom all about seeing her on the porch and riding around with Mrs. Hargrove. What a day! Surprisingly, I don't recall saying "I'm never going back"; we did however make sure I knew which bus I was supposed to ride: bus number 3! I don't believe I ever got on the wrong bus again.