Tuesday, September 30, 2003
view from Polar Street.
of the Wiley Annex. You can almost see the roof of the main building in the background.
I’m recalling this story because my old buddy, Cooper, is going to visit me this week. We go way back to the time when we were in the same homeroom at the oldest high school, the downtown school. The school building was ancient 45 years ago and the top floor was condemned. Perhaps to regain classroom space, classes were taught at the other end of the block in The Annex where our homeroom teacher, the Art teacher Miss Anita B. Duenweg, held classes.
Teachers and students were less strictly supervised in The Annex. We felt lucky and somewhat special to be away from the main building avoiding the scrutiny of Principals and Deans, setting our own standards away from upper-classmen. Homeroom was a place to conduct general school business and gather yourself before the bell for 1st or 5th period began and she had to face her next class of budding artists and we had to rush over to the main building.
Though she appeared to be stern, with her fire plug stature and bulldog cheeks, Miss Duenweg was really a generous and loving teacher. And although our group had a reputation as mean pranksters, we were, at worse, high-spirited and energetic and we all loved our Miss Duenweg. Cooper wrote a song for her, paraphrased it to the tune of "Mammy" and the boys sang: Dunny, How we love ya, how we love ya, Our dear ol' Dunny. This was choreographed with barbershop gestures and, at the end, a touch to one of her bulldog like jowls if one dared.
Sometimes, misunderstanding how we felt about her, she would threaten to send her serenaders to see Cy, the dean of boys, for discipline. Once she actually did send 4 of us but we returned after a few minutes of radio listening in the car. We told her Cy wasn't in and she had cooled off by then. She told us to behave ourselves from then on and it was soon time to make the long trip from the annex to the main school building in time to start another class.
Our homeroom was on the second floor and had large windows looking out on the street to the south and to the west out over the porch roof to the football practice field. When the windows were open, it was almost like sitting in one of the giant trees that shaded The Annex.
The art tables were large as was Miss Duenweg's desk and her desk was lined on three sides with tiny statues she loved, figurines, that stood 2 or 3 inches high and were precisely spaced at 6 inch intervals. One warm day, I saw Cooper come in late from an extended lunch at the pool hall and try to talk "Dunny" out of making him get a late pass. He pleaded with her with a praying hands gesture near her top left hand drawer. When he moved his hands apart, he toppled one of her prize figurines on its side on the desk. She immediately moved to right it and Cooper (He says he doesn't know what made him do it) immediately toppled the next one. Miss Duenwig sat that one upright and Cooper knocked the next one over. They went like this from left to right around her desk until each of her figurines had been toppled by him and set straight by her.
Someone gasped; we all stared. Now Cooper had worked himself away from the door, Miss Duenweg had blocked him. He was trapped. She was exasperated. Excited!
"Dick, I'm going to send you to see Mr. Forney!” she said. Sometimes when she became agitated, Miss Duenweg forgot that Mr. Forney had been replaced as principal by Mr. Rutherford. In fact, Mr. Forney had been dead for some time.
"Oh No!" was all Cooper said. And he turned and jumped out the window.
Miss Duenweg clasped her chest and raced to the window, genuinely concerned and at the same time the bells began to ring signaling the start of the next period.
Cooper rose up from his crouch on the porch roof, smiled and sang "Dunny, How we love ya', How we love ya'..." And yes, the touch to the jowl.
When your homeroom is in the Annex and your next period class in the main building, when the bell rings, you had better run like hell. We all did.
