Blessed to grow up in a small town

In recognition of this popular time of year for school reunions, Jim Murphy shares his memories of high school here in the ’60s.

Growing up in a small town like Webb City had its advantages. One was that during our high school years we pretty much knew every one of our classmates, and those in the classes before or after our grade. We knew who they were, where they lived, who was dating who, etc. Most importantly, for the guys, we knew if a classmate had a car, what make, what year, six cylinder or eight, automatic or manual transmissions, three speed or four, column shift or floor, low door, four door, hard top, convertible, coupe or sedan.

The funny thing that happened to me concerned cars. Someone started a custom among the guys that went like this. If you were driving down the road and recognized someone [coming toward you], instead of waving, flashing your lights or honking, you would change lanes with them. Now this required some skill and a good sense of timing and would not be attempted in heavy traffic. But when we could, we would do it because it was “so cool.”

One fine day as I was driving my (and my brother’s) Model A Ford coupe south on Jefferson Street, having just crossed over MacArthur Drive heading for the Madison Inn, I spotted David Powell coming down the hill towards me… so I switched lanes. A little time passed and David had not changed lanes. We were closing in fast when I saw smoke coming from the tires of the approaching car and I whipped back into my lane. As I passed by, I realized it wasn’t David. It was a little old lady, sitting at a dead stop, hands clutching the wheel, and if looks could kill, I would have been a goner for sure.

This is my funny story. I’m sure the lady didn’t think it was funny at all. I don’t think this cool custom, which took some skill and a good sense of timing (and no brains) lasted very long. I don’t remember any reports of head-on collisions at the time but I do know of one near miss.

Some of our favorite neighborhood nighttime games were: kick the can, hide & seek, catching fireflies, and just laying out in the yard (no air conditioning) looking up at the stars, listening to our parents tell stories about the “good ole days” or if we were lucky, they would tell us a ghost story! Daytime games were: sand lot football, baseball, softball, basketball, tag, marbles and dodge ball.

Growing up in a small town where everyone knew everyone, I remember we never had a key to our front door. We even went on vacation one time and didn’t think to lock the house. Neighbors looked out for each other and each other’s kids. Of course, this sometimes had its drawbacks. It was really hard to get away with anything because everyone knew who you were. Mom always knew when I did something wrong. There was a secret network (faster than the internet) where mothers got their information!

We spent countless hours roaming around and exploring just about every inch of the “chats.” (The greatest playground a young boy could possibly ask for.) From the top of the big chat pile at the end of Liberty Street (now Madge T. James Primary Kindergarten Center) we could see airplanes take off and land at the Joplin Airport … what a view. We rode down the east side of the chat pile on our bikes and down the west side on an old car fender, what a ride! Great memories!