You're reading the third and final part of the story of my Graduation Day at University High School in West Los Angeles. The date was June 19, 1969 and you can read Part One here and Part Two here…or, at least, you should have. Do that before you plunge into this chapter if you haven't already. It will begin after this brief cautionary banner…
As I'm sure you remember, the ceremony was over, I'd shed the silly cap 'n' gown and now my Aunt Dot was insisting that me, my parents, my uncle and her — the five of us — head off for downtown L.A. She'd made a reservation at an Italian eatery called Little Joe's and it was important to her that we get there on time. It was important to me to say goodbye to my fellow classmates and to locate three young ladies I wanted to stay "in touch" with.
In the above paragraph, "in touch" is a euphemism for getting their phone numbers and some sign that it was okay for me to call on them for dating purposes. In all my years before that day, I'd never asked a lady out due to a cowardice of which I am now ashamed. It also felt to me like it would be wrong to not say more goodbyes to students I'd known for the past three years at Uni and, in some cases, since Junior High or even Elementary School.
When last we left me, I gulped and said, "I need some time to say goodbye to some people." She said, "Well, okay. But make it quick."
I dashed off to an area where many of my classmates were gathered and I suddenly saw something I hadn't expected, something that will seem trivial to you but which had a big impact on me at that moment.
I saw my classmates kissing.
Girls were kissing guys goodbye. Guys were kissing girls goodbye. I'm sure we must have had some gay students there but it was 1969 and no one was "out," at least at Uni. I assume that has changed.
We were all, allegedly, not only heterosexual but vigorously so. By '69, magazines like Time and Newsweek had had a year or three of articles about how freer These Kids Today were about sex and how teens weren't waiting for marriage anymore. Such pieces were full of quotes from anonymous kids my age about how even the homeliest among them were losing any and all virginity well before they got out of high school.
My friends and I would read those articles and ask The Heavens, "When, pray tell, is this trend getting here? And for God's sake, can you do something to hurry it up?" We'd debate whether it was true anywhere except in Newsweek. Our school, after all, was in Los Angeles, California and had no small amount of rich kids with parents in show business. I'd argue, "If this is not going on here, how could it be happening in Kansas?"
Oh, sure: I knew guys who couldn't change in or out of their gym clothes without boasting about who they'd banged the previous date night and how many times. Locker room talk, we called it then as our president does now. I didn't believe very many (if any) of my bragging classmates. I still think Uni graduated 500+ virgins that day and I know for certain one of them was me. I hadn't even kissed a girl for real…a condition I rectified then and there. I decided Aunt Dot and Little Joe's could wait forever.
What pulled me away from that was the realization that none of the three ladies I wanted to find were in that group of goodbye-kissers. I began running around, searching for them. A lot of families were moving towards the parking lot and to get there, I had to run past my family. "Mark, we need to leave," Aunt Dot called to me and I pretended not to hear her.
In the parking lot, I found Potential Girl Friend #1 with her family. We hugged — I didn't have the courage to kiss her in front of her parents — and I pulled her to one side so they couldn't hear.
Mustering every bit of bravado I could muster, I asked: "Is there any chance you'd go out with me some evening for dinner and maybe a movie?" She said, "Sure." She said it so directly that I was startled. I'd expected to use every tactic of persuasion I'd learned studying Sgt. Bilko reruns to con her into it…but there it was. If only I'd known it was that easy…
"Let me give you my phone number," she said and I wrote it down — which was wholly unnecessary since I still remember every digit. We couldn't say much more than that because her aunt, who I'm assuming was named Dot, was urging them all to head for the restaurant where they had a reservation.
We parted and I began looking around for Potential Girl Friends #2 and #3. There was no sign of them but I ran into my friend Bill and asked if he'd seen them. #2, he said, was up in the tables area outside the cafeteria just a few minutes ago. I thanked him and scurried off with the speed of Barry Allen with two seconds to save the world from total destruction. My mission, of course, was more important.
Getting to the cafeteria required passing Aunt Dot again. She was angrily yelling, "Mark, we have to go! Mark, we have to go!" I yelled back, "One more thing I have to do" but I don't think she heard it.
Potential Girl Friend #2 and her family were just wandering away from the cafeteria when I ran up and we played out the exact same scene I'd just played with Potential Girl Friend #1. I asked her. She said "Sure" and began rattling off another phone number I still know. Everything was identical except she didn't have an aunt with a restaurant reservation. She had a party back at home to get to before other relatives arrived.
Clutching two phone numbers in my head and hand, I began racing around the campus, looking here, there, everywhere but not finding #3. A lot of folks had left by now and I was thinking I was too late and, hell, two outta three ain't bad, right?
I had just given up on ever seeing #3 again when I saw her again. She and several members of her family were walking towards a gate to the street. With an energy I'd never been able to muster in gym class, I sprinted towards them. When I was within ten feet and they hadn't yet noticed the hysterical kid running towards them, I braked to a casual stroll and tried to act like I was just walking and I happened to run into them.
Potential Girl Friend #3 saw me there, turned and threw her arms around me. This is a moment I still recall vividly. I thought of going for the lips but my peripheral vision showed me her father eyeing us so I thought better of it. She quickly introduced me as "that boy I've told you about who says all those funny things and draws all those funny pictures." At my best moments, that was me in high school. Or at least, that's who I tried to be.
Her father had a big grin as he shook my hand. He said, "She's told us over dinner every funny thing you ever said to her!" I froze and quickly tried to recap what I'd said to her, some of which I'm sure was strewn with sexual innuendoes and double entendres. But Dad seemed to like me. He actually said, "I was always kind of hoping you two would go out on a date so I could meet the young man who said —" and here he quoted some quip of mine I'd be embarrassed to quote here.
I turned to P.G.F. #3 and said, "Well, to make your father happy, I guess we'd better go out some time." When she eagerly agreed, I felt like I should go give back the diploma due to sheer stupidity on my part. What the hell had I been so afraid of? I could have been taking this girl out all semester. I could even have been hinting in the locker room that we'd been doing far naughtier things than would probably ever have occurred.
She did not give me her phone number. She didn't have anything to write on but her father pulled out a scrap of paper and wrote it down. I gave his daughter a final (for now) hug, promised to call and did a sporty victory lap back to Aunt Dot.
"We can go now," I announced. She apologized for rushing me so and then the five of us crammed into my father's car and spent a long, long time getting to Little Joe's. I thought the food was pretty mediocre there — way worse than my pick, Zito's — but maybe that was because I was so lost in thought. I was trying to readjust my mind to just how much of my life had changed in the previous few hours. I hadn't expected it be as emotional as it was. I hadn't expected to actually feel my life changing.
But I was out of high school. That was a good thing. And I'd said goodbye, probably forever, to a lot of friends, plus I had my first dating opportunities. I also now had no excuse not to begin pursuing my lifelong plan of becoming a professional writer.
I'm not going to tell you what happened on the dates. This isn't that kind of website and, besides, I'm still in touch with one of those Potential Now-Former Girl Friends and she reads this blog. I will however tell you what happened when I made my first really-truly serious attempt to sell something I'd written, therefore embarking on whatever this career I've had has been.
I'll tell you that on the fiftieth anniversary of that day, which occurs later this week. I'm sure hoping the President declares it a national holiday but knowing him, he probably won't and I'll have one more reason to dislike him. Like I need more.