I Remember Madison Central High

Karla (Ryerson) Olson Memories -- The day I was grabbed in the halls of Central

With the hustle between classes and having to go to our lockers to get my books.  I turned running to class and a strange thing happened.  I was grabbed by my skirt from the waist down.  I could not turn any which way. Who was grabbing me and why by my skirt?  I finally realized it was my locker.  Now how do I get out, to get to class?  Everyone was already gone. After waiting and trying to turn enough to get to my lock I saw someone coming down the hall, as I meekly called help, she stopped and laughed. She was in a predicament like this once.  I gave her my combination and I was soon free to go to class late.  Who would believe me when I said I was GRABBED IN THE HALLS OF CENTRAL.   

John Weier: Memories -- The Sh.. Squad

When we were sophomores most of our class on the football team played on what was called the “Sh-- squad” where we had to play defense for the varsity first-string offense during practice. We wore red pull over jerseys to distinguish ourselves from them. The red jerseys actually covered up the blood we spilled from our mouths and noses. We called ourselves the “Blood squad”, but the hidden blood on our jerseys never gained us sympathy from Boomer. The problem we had was Dennis Schmelskopf. He weighed over 230 pounds and was selected as the All State first-string fullback that year. Our defensive backs, myself included, could never figure out what happened to our “Sh—squad” defensive linemen when Dennis came thundering at us. They just seemed to disappear. Tal DeSal, Bruce Gibson, Dave Wesley, Jerry Ulrich, Jerry Riddle, and I would have to jump on him after he gained a head of steam about 5 yards into our backfield and ride 10 or 15 yards more yards before we could get him down. There was not one play where one of us did not get up spitting out a tooth or snorting out some blood from a nose. There were no face guards 53 years ago.

There was one play during a pre-season football scrimmage practice when we were seniors at Middleton. I don’t remember much about the play because I must have suffered a concussion during it. I only remember calling a pass play and then waking up to see my fullback getting his helmet handed back from this little, scrawny defensive-end from Middleton. I must have passed out again because I was told later that something indecent occurred next.

John Apinis: Memories

I recall….

•  Mr. Sprecher, the physics and chemistry teacher who parked his tiny car off the street among all the student bicycles,
  
  
• The display cases in the hall with all the sports trophies from the earlier days when Central was a real powerhouse in conference athletics,
  
  
• Ms. Ritzmann who taught us to read our papers backward to insure there were no misspellings (these were times before spell checkers),
  
  
• Bob Harris who once said, “I want three volunteers…you, you, and you.” as he pointed to three students,
  
  
• Jerry Marble who while teaching me to drive said, “Are you signaling or drying your fingernails!” after being indecisive with my hand signal just before making a turn,
  
  
• The welding class where I made my initials out of stock bars of metal (I still have the initials),
  
  
• Someone saying “ John, your eyes look like piss holes in the snow” after I had gotten my weight down from 220 lb. to 180 lb. for wrestling, in part by not drinking any water,
  
  
• Mr. Colbert who said he made the minimum fighter pilot height requirement by hanging for a long time from an overhead bar in the men’s room, per the advice of someone in the recruitment center,
  
  
• Mr. Lanning, my homeroom teacher, who greatly helped me write various essays and speeches,
  
  
• The weight of responsibility and commitment that overcame me after realizing I had become the class president. As it turned out, I left Madison shortly thereafter for more schools, US Army, and a job. Fortunately a group of you stepped up to carry the ball, and keep our class going. I thank you for that.
  
  
• My overall memory of Central is that it was unique. The other schools were bigger, had families with bigger cars, more money, education and connections, but Central was unique because of its faculty and students. Even today I find myself describing to new friends my old high school. Looking back from a fifty-year perspective, I can honestly say I am proud to have attended and graduated from Central High. 

Jerry Ulrich: Memories

Wow! How time flies. It seems like yesterday we were walking down the halls of Central thinking of 55 Chevys and football practice among other things. Central was a microcosm of society with kids of many different backgrounds coming together, the difference being we all got along. I look back and have nothing but admiration and good memories of the great kids and teachers of our old alma mater. Best wishes to all of you!

Janette (Rogers) Morris: Memories

• I remember the first day sitting in Miss Kind’s Algebra class and seeing her pull down the shade and hearing her say, “I have you in my lair.”
  
  
• I remember memorizing the countries of the world in Miss Eisenman’s class. What a waste of time.
  
  
• I remember seeing Mr. Tottingham in his English class throwing an eraser from his desk to the back blackboard.
  
  
• I remember being in Miss Ritzman’s English class one day when we had a substitute, and Elliot Zimmerman and Charles Leroux imitated Miss Ritzman perfectly.

Janet (Luther) Shafer: Memories

Two funny things I remember. One is a phrase that Richard Harrington once used about a particularly bad day: "Some days it's all feathers and no chicken".    I find myself using it occasionally and always try to give him credit, as we went to grade school and high school together.

The other is that in a class, sitting next to Charles Leroux....perhaps Mr. Colucci's (whom I found to be rather frightening at best), Chuck would mutter little funny asides, I would laugh, and I would be asked to go out in the hall. He, of course, suffered no consequences.

Umpteen years later, sitting in a staff meeting with doctors, nurses and social workers, one of the social workers did the same thing and I would be asked, "do you have something to share with the group?" or some such nonsense, as I was trying to control my laughter. I began calling that social worker" Leroux "...we still work together.

Jack Anderson: Memories

Oops

We played basketball at a friend’s house on the east side. The drive way was very small, thus if you weren’t playing you had to be on the back porch.

Some of the guys were clowning and I got into it with my best Boomer Harris imitation.

From the kitchen came a loud voice. “You think that’s funny Anderson!”

It was Mr. Harris.  We were playing at his sister’s home and I didn’t know it.

The next day at gym class was not funny either.

 

Wrong Guy

1957. John Clementi and I were at the Sate Cross Country meet at Janesville.

Some guy was bugging us as we ran. Ahead was a black top path going down a hill with a sharp corner at the bottom. There was a little creek three feet below the path. John said “run ahead and stop at the bottom, I did and the guy followed. I stopped at the bottom and the guy had no choice but to stop behind me. John ran into him and he ended up in the creek. We ran like hell holding our own numbers to hide them.

1963 I’m in the Army and stationed at San Antonio Texas. It was a cold morning and I didn’t have a coat. I put my military coat over my civies. While walking down a backcourt way a second lieutenant or second louie came out of an office and started getting on me because of my outfit. He was going to write me up.  He went on and on about how wrong I was. Finally he said “Jack you should know better” I asked how he knew my name.

“Remember that track meet in Janesville? GOT YOU!” he laughed

Harry Manhart: Memories

 Coming from a limited enrollment parochial elementary school to Central High School in 9th grade was somewhat over-whelming initially, but I soon discovered new opportunities and benefits were offered by my new surroundings.

 One, in particular stood out, Swimming at the YMCA, as part of our physical education class. We would walk to and from the YMCA, which was located at the corner of West Washington Avenue and Fairchild Street. When we were informed that our swimming would be “au natural” I thought that they couldn’t be serious, but I discovered it was true. No one ever gave us an explanation why we couldn’t wear swimming suits and I never asked why. I can say we didn’t play water polo as aggressively as the game should be played. In the winter we would walk back to school and our hair would be frozen stiff by the time we got to out next class.

Our circumstances were certainly different than today’s students as far as transportation to and from school. A group of us students in our neighborhood that attended Central, walked everyday to and from school for four years.  No matter what the weather, extreme cold, snow, blizzards, rain etc. we began our trek from Dayton and Brooks to Johnson street and to school, a hike of approximately two miles each way. How strange, as we get older we begin to sound like our parents.

 Believe it or not there was a purpose as to why we gathered together for approximately 180 days a year. One major goal was to receive an education and another was to learn to interact with one another. I have to admit coming from a home of immigrant parents I was clueless to either of the above goals. I was having a great time with my friends and my social life was okay. Then one day in my junior year, a classmate inquired if I knew where I ranked in my class. I didn’t have a clue to what he was talking about. I later asked a teacher and was horrified to discover that they were keeping score-all of the years and all of the grades and where you ranked in the class. Needless to say I then realized the importance of school; and amended my ways.

PS looking back to my years at Central I wish we could all have ‘“do-overs”, but unfortunately that is not possible. There are many things I would change such as applying more time to studies and becoming better acquainted with more of my fellow classmates. We certainly didn’t communicate as much as today’s generation with their tell all, texting, my space, blogging, tweetering etc.

The one thing I am sure of about my experience at Central High School is that we had some of the most dedicated, professional, and caring teachers in the Madison School District. I will always remember and be indebted to Elizabeth Ritzman,” Gus Pollock” Richard Schurman, Alfred Colucci, Elizabeth Eisenman, Betty Atkins, “Boomer Harris” Victor Lanning, and all the others which are too many to mention.

I discovered as time went by and I traveled and lived in other areas of the country that we received an excellent education and were blessed as our in our school song to attend “The best school in the land”

Gerri (Schachte) Denson: Memories

About the only thing right now that comes to mind is the days we had to walk to the Y and take swimming lessons.  The swimsuits were so ugly and BIG.  Our hair would always get wet and look awful.  Then the walk back to school, sometimes in rain or snow.  Do not miss this at all.  We were definitely not spoiled like they are now. 

Editor’s Comment: The boys were not allowed to wear suits. Frowns were allowed, but that was all. With fists and feet flying during water polo, one often felt very vulnerable.

Chuck Mazursky: Memories

•  The guys on the basketball team will remember Boomer playfully swatting me after I took one too many jump shots from the top of the arc instead of passing it off.  There was an imprint in my chest for about a month, which caused no end of teasing in the locker room.  I tried explaining to him that, like so many of my classmates, "I never saw a 'shot' I didn't like."  I don't know if he got the double entendre, but he definitely wasn't amused.  Although I have lost touch with most of the guys, my guess is that in the past 50 years, they haven't passed up too many shots either!  And don't forget the beer chasers.
  
  
•  Second semester, junior year, 1958.  I had just been elected student council president for our senior year.  The Sunday following the election, I had the panel truck from our grocery store, the '54 Chevy, affectionately known as "Charlie's Meat Wagon," which my two older brothers had broken in for me, if you get my drift, and I was in the back of the truck with a young lady, who shall remain anonymous.  Somebody, I know not who, had conveniently left an inflated air mattress back there, probably to prevent the eggs from breaking, who knows? Did I mention, we were parked in the Arboretum?  Anyway, we were heavy into a discussion of Chaucer, or maybe it was Shakespeare, when suddenly, our conversation (as well as other things) was interrupted by a University of Wisconsin cop who told us to get the hell out of there because I was parked in a fire lane.  He took my name and driver's license number and asked what school I attended because he was going to report this to my principal.
  
   Needless to say I forgot all about the Miller's Tale and Hamlet and after dropping the young lady off at her house in South Madison, I drove home and prepared for the worst the following week.  I forget now what class it was, but on Monday, sure enough, someone came in and I was told to go to Mr. Brown's office.  I had no idea what the U. S. Constitution said about impeaching a student council president elect before he even took office, but I was resigned to my fate.  Would there be a new election?  Would my running mate, Buggsy Colletti, be installed automatically, even though he was only a junior?  These were serious issues, folks.

   I was ushered into the great man's office and with a very somber look on his face (did he ever not have a somber look on his face?), he offered me a seat.  He then looked at me for a few seconds before speaking. 

  "Charles (another long pause just to torture me a little longer), I want to personally congratulate you on winning this election and I am confident that you will make an outstanding student council president.  Remember. It's very important to pick good committee chairs.  They're the ones who do all of the work, you know."

  With that, he gave me a little wink and a smile.  We shook hands and that was that.  To this day, I don't know who cleaned up the turd I left under the chair.