Teenage Rebellion! The Battle Of The Boots...

Photo by Gary Rice

Dad and I were cruising down Franklin the other day when the high school let out. Even though we volunteer as retired teachers with the Lakewood Schools, it seemed to us that some of the outfits of the high school students were even more colorful than the flowers sprouting along the sidewalks. Middle school students usually adhere to at least a certain amount of fashionable convention, but by the time high school hits? Well, to Dad and I at least, a circus parade would not have been more interesting to behold. Of course, those students were not the first ones to sport outrageous styles that have stymied the adult world for years.

Seeing those colorful outfits caused Dad and me to reflect on some of the youthful fads from earlier generations. In Dad's Depression era, the "gangster look" was the cool thing, with "zoot suits," black shirts, white ties, baggy pants, and wide-brimmed hats. Girls loved saddle shoes, "bobby sox," and print dresses. Girls and boys also loved to "tag" each other with identification bracelets.

In my day, the "greaser" (or tough guy) look came along, partly as a result of movies and rock and roll. Then, as now, anything that would attract chicks (oops, I mean, the ladies) became must-do activities for the guys. Of course, in 1963, guys started combing their hair forward, when the Beatles showed the world that chicks (oops, I mean, the ladies again) liked guys who wore their hair that way too. Speaking of hair, the girls' hair styles were getting higher and higher, again in response to popular movie stars of the day. "Bouffant" and "beehive" looks became popular, along with increasingly shorter mini-skirts and, of course, the two-piece bikini.

Over the years, courts started to rule in favor of student dress code "civil rights." As court cases assaulted the public schools, clothing styles became more relaxed. Of course, the more some "rights" opened up, the more others were sought. One of the last rubicons crossed involved something called "horseshoe cleats."
Originally developed (I think) for the military as a means of saving wartime shoe leather, those loud steel horseshoe cleats had first become widely known on the heels of the jackbooted WWII German army as they marched through Europe. While some styles originally fitted flush with the heel leather, some daring young boys instead nailed them right onto their heels and went off to school. If improperly installed or worn, those cleats could scratch the wax off the floors of a school. When worn inappropriately, they also could pose a significant danger to the student, as they gave little traction in hectic school hallways. You had to be careful to walk tip-toe past the teachers, and then start clacking. It absolutely drove them crazy, which was, of course, exactly the point. While risking punishment, the kids who dared to wear those cleats in school gained immeasurable attention and (at least they thought they got) peer approval.

In my time, guys' fashions fell mainly into three styles: the "mods," the "surfers," and the "greasers." Being a Lakewood teacher's kid, I was not supposed to fall into any of these categories. Conservative was the word, and that was mostly how I dressed, at least for awhile. There was an exception, however, and that was the battle of the so-called "Beatle" boots. In 1964, the ultimate in cool was for a boy to have "Beatle" boots. Those lovable lads from Liverpool had brought high fashion to the world of rock and roll, and those leather-heeled pointy boots, like any other modern fashion statement for youths, were off limits for me. After all, I was a teacher's kid, and teachers' kids simply dressed, well... simply.

But...I HAD to have those boots. What made it all worse was that my best friend got a pair, complete with those ultra-cool shiny steel horseshoe cleats! Not having the ability to go out and buy a pair of those, there was just one thing to do. I HAD to trade him out of those boots! It took a while, but before long, those boots were in my secret possession. Feeling guilty for probably the first time that I could remember rebelling against my parents, yet at the same time feeling absolutely compelled to wear those boots, off they went to school in a brown paper bag.

There was just one problem. Dad taught at the school where I went: Harding.

Feeling light-headed and filled with the terror of guilt mixed with the utter exhilaration of adventure, when I dropped off my coat at the locker, off came my disgusting dress shoes and on went the "Beatle" boots!
Little did I realize that (as far as trying to walk for the first time in metal-shod high heels went) a school hallway was not the place to try them out. Far from looking cool, I walked with all the dignity of a drunken cowboy into homeroom, trying my best not to clack my heels on that polished wooden floor. Kids often blackened the sides of their cleats to disguise them, but that distinctive sound was still a dead giveaway if you stepped the wrong way.

Did I mention that we normally could not go to our locker during the school day, and that I'd forgotten about having to go to band class with my dad? Did I mention that kids loved to snitch and tell my Dad ANYTIME I EVER did, or said, or even THOUGHT ABOUT doing something even VAGUELY inappropriate?
Inappropriate? Imagine a kid dressed as if he were ready for Sunday School wearing "Beatle" boots...I was the proverbial lamb being led to the slaughter anyway. My goose was cooked... although I did not yet know it.

So when I walked, or rather, gingerly tip-toed my way into the band room, I should not have been surprised when the loud chorus went up: "GARY'S GOT BEATLE BOOTS!"

"Go put your shoes back on, Gary. We'll discuss this when we get back home."

You could have heard an ant breathing.

Actually, I was able to keep the boots for stage wear, and as time went on, I often dressed in contemporary styles, as I played more and more music in the world of rock and roll. It was, after all, the '60's. Dad, however, taught me an important lesson on that day. Being a professional musician himself, he explained to me that certain things, including clothing, were perfectly acceptable as stage props, but that the stage was not, and never would be, real life. He taught me that you certainly don't want to start out in life with two strikes against you, and that people whom you thought were laughing with you could actually be laughing at you. He taught me that the values of honesty, honor, and having a good name were all so much more important than falling victim to impulses and momentary lapses in judgement.

Sooner or later, if we're fortunate, we all grow up in life. Thank God I had parents with the wisdom and the common sense to help me through that process.