Idle American: Making Do at London School

The distance was 87 miles from Brownwood to London in Texas’ beautiful Hill Country, where I would speak at graduation exercises for four seniors at a school that would cease to exist a year later.

What did I know about speaking? Reeling after accepting Superintendent Doris Johnson’s invitation, my mind whirled with scattered thoughts of what I might say upon reaching the podium.

She and her sister, Miss Freddie Johnson, school principal, had kept things stitched together as long as they could. Doris — no doubt counting pennies to keep the school open — asked about my honorarium. I didn’t know an honorarium from a wheelbarrow, but later received a check for $20.22. It included $15 as the honorarium and three cents per mile for travel.

I know; I was overpaid. Most talks I’ve made have been without regard for remuneration, since I was typically representing institutions where I was employed — Sul Ross State University, Tarrant County Junior College, Western Texas College, and Howard Payne University. It was my first monetary “thank you.”

I claimed my institutions to be “knowledge centers of the world,” what with freshmen bringing so much in and seniors taking so little out, knowledge was stacking up, I joked. This night in London — decades before test scores, edicts from ill-advised state political leaders, skimpy funding, and other factors forced closure of small schools — was magical.

Unquestionably, I gleaned more from the experience than the graduates did. That was more than 6,000 “talks” ago, including some 300 where I inflicted “go-forth-and-serve” verbiage on graduates salivating at thoughts of going out to parties — right after hugs, photos, and abandoning graduation garb.

Glances in every direction found expressions of pride. London — with 49 K-12 students when it closed — had a state-winning high school newspaper, The Flash, and fielded sports teams when there were enough students to do so. School personnel wore innumerable “hats.” I mean, how many superintendents do you know who coached a girls’ volleyball team and crammed eight players into a sedan for the 125-mile trek to Austin for state competition? That was before seat belts, graduate and team member Barbara Stewart wrote in her memoirs.

The Flash was printed on a machine called a “spirit duplicator,” and staff members often were stained with the “purple stuff” each time they published.

With a headline screaming “Don Newbury to Speak at Commencement,” I was flattered by the generous welcome. After all, they didn’t know me from a Fuller Brush salesman! Sadly, the school — the very soul of the community — was teetering toward closure that would lead to a withering of the community. It always does.

Would you believe, though, that now — more than 60 years later — the community again has a newspaper? The London Lobo — also printed on 8.5x11 paper — is highlighted by photos in living color.

The free monthly publication is available at London and nearby Junction store locations, featuring mostly announcements, poetry, and historical accounts.

A recent ad announced a missing Black Angus bull.

Editor/publisher Brian Jeter came to town a few years back, tired of a “cubical life” as a San Antonio engineer. He’s the “go to” guy for London items, beating the drums promoting the good life there. Like the mythical Don Quixote — the windmill-tilting figure in 17th century fiction — Jeter is a “one-man band” in London, always around and always helping others.

I learned much during my long-ago London visit. I salute those who “made do” back then. Today, I wish only good things for Jeter and London residents as they continue a daunting, arms-wide-open invitation to a place where there are frequent pauses to smell the roses, stare at beautiful sunsets, and make new friends.

Such can be the new norm, or is it a welcome return to an old one?

Dr. Newbury, a longtime speaker, may be contacted at 817-447-3872 or newbury@speakerdoc.com. At website www.speakerdoc.com, he reads his columns aloud, sometimes without stumbling.