Saddles (con't.)
By Darlene Glaze Jennings
Most of my friends, Carole, Glenda and
Sharon all lived a few blocks away. Walking or riding our bikes to each
others’ house was second nature to us. We could even go to Northtown
Shopping Center and Forest Park Plaza in the latter years. My Mother always
knew where I was going at all times, but there was never any concern if I
made it there or not. We all just knew when to be home, 5 o’clock for
dinner.
Girl’s lives were different from the boys in the neighborhood, a fact of
life. We were not trying to see what devilish things we could come up with,
we were not trying to set fire to or blow up something—or even hang out down
by the Stillwater River. Oh no, our lives were much tamer. Playing records,
playing duets on the piano, maybe learning a new dance, talking about boys,
walking around—trying to find out where those boys might be! A big treat was
walking up to Burger Chef behind Loos School and buying our lunch, feeling
so grown up and on our own at age 12 or 13! Which is just what we girls
wanted to do—grow up and have that teen life we had seen in those Gidget
movies.
Most of us got to go swimming, but only when our mothers could take us. I
went to Miller’s Grove with the freezing water and the bumpy cement bottom.
On certain summer holidays we would be taken to Trotwood…a million miles
away. Later in my young teen years I would go to Philips Pool, owned by Mike
Schmidt’s grandparents. So our summer days were long, it seemed. We had the
time to do whatever our hearts desired, with a few chores thrown in to keep
us “responsible” I guess. But then, after our long “languid” days of summer
passed, we began thinking of school again. We all knew who our teacher would
be, that info was given to us on the last day of school. The biggest thrill
was that our best friend would be with us—the deepest disappointment was
that they would not.
As the middle of August neared the excitement began to build for me, and I
am guessing for many other girls. It would soon be time for all of us to be
back together again uh, and yes to see those boys again, who had remained so
elusive all summer! The biggest back to school ritual for me in grade school
was going downtown to Rikes. Every August they would have their big “Back to
School” sale on Spalding shoes. Now I only wore these shoes in grade school;
high school was another story. I can remember walking up Carol Avenue to the
bus stop at Redwood and Kathleen, the mode of transportation to downtown
Dayton. I usually had a friend with me in the later years, my Mother when I
was younger. Yes, we all had the freedom to go downtown on our own. We would
be dropped off in front of Rikes, eight floors of merchandise wonder. I
think the Shoe Department was on the 4th or 6th floor, one would think I
could remember it better than my own name, but I don’t. Once I got to the
shoe department, there they were! Saddles, loafers and white bucks! Wow, so
beautiful, so perfect, would they have my size? I always HAD to get the
black and white saddles with red rubber sole, the staple of grade school
footwear. They would be brought out, tissue paper pulled aside to try on. I
would take a pair of bobby socks to try them on. Yes they were perfect, I’ll
take them! I would also get a pair of loafers, looking forward to actually
putting a penny in them. And yes, I’ll take a pair of white bucks with their
little powder Bunny bag to keep them white. So with purchases in hand,
school fever was taking over. Remember, Rikes would also deliver anything
you purchased if you wanted, and it would be the next day! I never wanted to
do that, they were mine now; I just had to carry them home!
Once home my shoes were put upstairs in a hallway closet, to await the first
day of school. At least once a day I would go up there and look at them; try
them on. This is the memory that is the most vivid to me: taking the boxes
off of the shelf, sitting down on the floor and opening them up. As I pulled
the tissue paper away I would get the wonderful smell of new leather, Mm,
Mm, Mm; I can smell it now. I would try them on and walk up and down the
hallway. Oh yes, can’t wait for school to begin!
When I entered Fairview High School, the saddles fashion faded away, we wore
hose and skirts every day! My gosh, I cannot believe it now. As I entered
Miami University, dress became a little more casual, didn’t go the Hippie
route, but more casual indeed. Then came the fall of my Sophomore year. Lo
and Behold, there sitting in a class with me was a girl wearing a pair of
Spalding saddles (yes I could spot them a mile away). She was wearing knee
socks and a short wool skirt. Wow, I thought, I want me some Spalding’s too,
once again! Shortly after that I went home for the weekend and headed down
to Rikes, 4th or 6th floor. There on display were my saddles. I was a bit
disappointed that they only had brown and white, but I took them. The
following Monday I was wearing my saddles, knee socks, John Meyer or
Villager wool skirt and sweater. Wow! The compliments were flying, the “Oh,
where did you get those?” the “Oh, I remember my saddles, I loved them.” My
accounting professor saying, “I like your Rah Rahs.” I think he meant my
shoes.
I wore my saddles to death, eventually just wearing them with jeans at
Miami, when I was becoming less concerned about my wardrobe and just
concerned about getting to class. Life moved fast after that; marriage,
kids, moving, at one point settling in Louisville, where our kids went to
high school. I was wearing my saddles to mow the lawn, paint the picket
fence, any labor that required a sturdy old shoe, an old friend. The soles
never wore down much, but the stitching began to come undone. I guess I
eventually threw them away. Still can’t believe I did. I can hardly ever
throw a pair of shoes away.
The years have passed, but not the memory of my saddles. Searching the
Internet for Spalding’s, contacting the company, going to EBay, but to no
avail. Maybe a few out there, size 6, but not an 8. There is a company
called Muffy’s Shoes that makes new shoes, a close second to Spalding’s, but
at $99. I didn’t think I could really do that one. I finally gave up the
obsession, only wishing I had not thrown my last pair away.
We have lived here, outside of Atlanta for more than 9 years. Most weekends
we head out on day trips to little towns within a 50 mile radius. One of our
favorite towns is Monroe, Georgia, 30 miles southwest of us. This town has
it all, a great restaurant, antique shops, a courthouse with the Confederate
Soldier out front. We feel we belong when we go there. One Saturday last
spring we headed into town, passing a sign that said “Church Sale.” We
passed by it when I said, “Hey, let’s check it out”, although not usually
going to those sales. As we pulled up into the parking lot, men were hauling
tables out of the building, the sale was ending. As we stopped I thought
maybe we should just forget it, but we got out and Marc started helping the
men move the tables. I walked into the building, seeing everything boxed up,
stuff that did not sell, maybe to be saved for the next one. “Come on in,”
they said, “see if you want anything.” I poked around, digging in the boxes,
finding a book and a vase. There just wasn’t much left, I thought. Marc was
still helping the men remove racks and tables so I continued to poke and
move things around in the boxes. Something caught my eye—could it be—red
soles, Yes! There in a box was a pair of nearly new, no, brand new brown and
tan saddles! I think they are called Soap and Saddle. I pulled them out,
staring at them, they looked small but I had to put my foot in one. Yes,
Cinderella, they fit! They were made by Striderite but as close to a
Spalding as I have seen in over 40 years. I tried them both on, they fit.
Here on my feet was what I had been looking for – forever! Marc walked in
and I showed them to him, he was stunned, too. He had done a lot of internet
searching too. “They fit, OMG,” I told him. We almost didn’t come here, we
almost didn’t get out of the car, and I almost did not bother to look
around. I took my 3 items up to the ladies taking the money, $1 for the book
and vase and 50 cents for the shoes—aghhhhhh! We gave them more; so thrilled
to have found my saddles.
I know to most of the guys reading this and maybe to some of the women, it
might not mean too much. But I just bet there are some of you reading this
who have that one favorite article of clothing you had, or shoes you wore,
that you wished you still had. All I can say is, don’t give up. This site is
about our memories, and this is one of my favorite ones, and yes—my shoe
obsession has only grown.
I don’t remember the crowd cheering and applauding but
I’m sure we did. There was awe and respect for this performer that we had
the chance to hear years after his career seemed to end. As far as we knew
then, we might never hear his music again and I think most of the crowd felt
as I did, glad that we came to that crummy little bar on that Sunday
afternoon.
There was another performer that could always be counted on for a fantastic
show, although the setting was quite different from the one at which we saw
Jerry Lee. James Brown and his Famous Flames always appeared at Memorial
Hall; and Mike, Dave and I never missed a performance. I guess we went to
his shows three or four times. I especially remember the song, “Please,
Please, Please!” One of the Famous Flames would come over and put the cape
on James as he was in such pain, pleading with his lover, that he had to
walk slowly away. Then he would throw it off and rush back to the microphone
to plead once more. “Try Me” was a song that you could not hear without
thinking of your special love and dancing close. Grinding on the dance floor
was definitely permitted for this song. And speaking of dancing, James Brown
could dance in a way that no one else could. Ed Stout says he tried to dance
like James Brown, so did I, but with almost no success.
James Brown’s music was described as Rhythm and Blues. Whatever you called
it, it was good and it got to you—Devil’s Music. But in addition to singing
great music, James Brown was a tremendous entertainer. He took care in
crafting a show that people enjoyed. He gave you a good reason to get out,
come down and pay the money to see him perform.
In the early 60’s there were a lot of “Girl Groups”. The Shirelles, the
Ronettes, the Chiffons, the Velvelettes, the Crystals, Martha Reeves & the
Vandellas and on and on. It’s possible some of the really good girl groups
came to Dayton and we missed them, but I don’t think so. The group that did
appear at Memorial Hall, and that Mike, Dave and I went to see was the
Orlons. The Orlons recorded “The Wah-Watusi”, “Don’t Hang Up” and “Shimmy
Shimmy” among others. The show was OK, but didn’t give us much to talk about
on the way home. I guess it beat hanging out at Parkmoor for a night.
Mike and I played the guitar so we were pretty excited to see Lonnie Mack at
Forest Park. Lonnie Mack recorded an instrumental song called “Memphis”, and
he played much faster than we could even think about. As it turned out, Mike
and I played in a band together at the time and our band appeared with
Lonnie Mack, but that’s another story.
We also saw the Byrds at Forest Park. Their big hit at the time was “Mr.
Tambourine Man” written by Bob Dylan (Robert Zimmerman, Debbie Rutstein’s
cousin from Minnesota). By the time we saw the Byrds, we knew things were
changing, but we didn’t know what was coming, except that it would probably
involve drugs.
In another story I mentioned the impact The Beatles had on all of us at
Fairview when their music first began to be played in this country. One of
the first people I knew that got a Beatles album was Mike Stein. Right after
he got it I stayed over at his house on Siebenthaler on a school night and
we listened to the album until his mother made us turn it off and go to bed.
The British Invasion was what it was called. There were all these bands from
England with records out in the US. I liked the Animals and the Searchers,
but number 2 behind the Beatles was eventually a band called the Rolling
Stones. The Beatles didn’t come to Dayton but the Stones did, in 1965.
Naturally, Mike Overly, Dave Todd and I had tickets to their appearance at
Hara Arena. I know my ticket cost $2.50 because I still have the ticket
stub. There was a huge sell-out crowd to see them, but as usual, we came
early and got a good parking place and were in our seats well before the
show started.
The concert was great. The Rolling Stones had several songs that we liked,
including their then current “(I can’t get no) Satisfaction”, and they
played with a real attitude, especially Mick Jagger, who strutted all over
the stage. By the end of the concert we were in a great mood, agreeing the
Stones were fantastic and that our money and time had been well spent. We
got to Mike’s car in the Hara parking lot and pulled out onto Shiloh Springs
Road, where traffic was moving pretty slow. People had parked along the
road, at Wampler’s Barn and wherever they could find a space, so there were
kids walking along the road on both sides. We hadn’t gone far when we saw a
boy laying on the opposite edge of the road with a few people standing
around. Mike pulled off the road; we got out and went over to see what had
happened. I wished we hadn’t stopped because the boy, although not bleeding,
was in pretty bad shape. There was a girl, a bit older than us, I think, who
had hit him with her car as he walked along the side of the road. She was
very upset, the ambulance was not there yet and there was just nothing we
could do to help, however much we wanted to. We heard on the radio the next
day that he died.
I don’t remember going to any more concerts in high school. I attended some
later in college but the excitement of hearing a live performance of great
music was not the same; that is, until 1985. That year, while attending a
cable television convention in Atlantic City, NJ, I was invited to an HBO
party at one of the casinos. The entertainment was a New York Doo Wop band
called The Regents. The Regents wrote and recorded “Barbara Ann”, which was
released in 1961. One member of the group also wrote “The Wanderer” recorded
by Dion. Their performance of old rock and roll songs was just great. That
night, for a little while, I remembered what it was like to be a student at
Fairview, when music was such a big part of our lives. I even left a couple
of scorch marks on the dance floor as I began practicing for the FHS 20-year
reunion in 1986.
Post Script. Music experts, like me, pretty much agree that rock and roll
music evolved as a combination of other forms of music. One contributor to
what became rock and roll was Rhythm and Blues, which itself owed much to
southern blues and gospel music. Another contributor was Country Music,
which was blended with R&B to become what was called Rockabilly. The point I
am trying to make is that rock and roll music came from the South. We
southerners are real pleased that y’all like our music.
The one exception to what I have stated above is Doo Wop. Doo Wop music
originated in ethnic neighborhoods of New York, Jersey and around Philly.
But the black, Italian and Jewish boys who developed, wrote and sang Doo Wop
only did so after being inspired by southern rock and roll.