Big Bad John

We moved to Fairbury on Friday, May 1st, 1964. I had just turned nine years old. Mom took Danny and me to Eastward School the following Monday, right after lunch. That morning, she had met with the appropriate school officials to determine which school we would attend. Eastward was a few blocks farther for us to walk than Central, but we didn't really mind. We were eager to attend a newly-built school, which was quite a contrast to the stately, but aging, grade school we had attended in Norfolk.

We were excited that our new school offered a hot lunch program, so we no longer had to hurry home for lunch. School started at 8:30 in the morning, which was quite a change for us, since we were used to starting at 9:00, but we were excited to be done for the day by 3:15, instead of 3:45.

Mom fussed a little bit that we were changing schools in May, when there were only a couple of weeks of school left for the year, but she rationalized that we would be able to make some friends that we could play with throughout the summer months. She was right. It didn't take long to make some new friends.

So, I finished third grade, and Danny finished first grade, at Eastward.

I had hoped to find my fourth grade class picture, but it didn't happen.
This picture of me will have to do, ugly glasses and all.

When school started again in the fall, we already knew some of our classmates. I was surprised to find that Eastward School only housed kindergarten through fourth grade, but it was gratifying to be one of the big kids at last. My class had 27 or 28 kids, taught by another Mrs. Bauer, who was a kind, welcoming teacher. School was a pleasant place to be.

We didn't have any formal physical education classes, although Mrs. Bauer occasionally led some organized games outside. Like practically all fourth graders across the state, as a part of our required Nebraska history studies, we pushed our desks to one side of the classroom at least once a week so we could practice square dancing. I don't remember hearing anyone complain about the dancing; the girls thought it was a wonderful diversion, and the boys tolerated it without objection. As a bonus, we memorized all the moves to "Oh, Johnny, Oh" and the "Virginia Reel," and danced well by the time the second semester rolled around. I suspect that many of my classmates have retained enough muscle memory to do a pretty fair job of square dancing, even now.

And then, there was recess, for more than an hour every day. Except when the weather was exceedingly rainy or snowy, we were outside on the playground, four times a day. I enjoyed playing on the ancient wood and iron merry-go-round. But, many days, some of the fourth grade girls gathered in the northwest corner of the playground to sing and act out the Beatles' most popular songs. It was 1964, after all, and the up-and-coming Beatles were everyone's favorites.

I don't really remember what most of the boys were doing at recess time, but I can guess that they were playing tag, or kickball or whiffleball, or some other ball game. But one boy, whose name was John, usually joined the girls to act out our favorite popular songs.

John was different from the other boys. For starters, he was bigger and taller than the others, perhaps because he had repeated a grade somewhere along the line. Back then, people would have commented that he was "slow." He obviously struggled with his school work, but John was gentle and quiet most of the time. I remember the dreary afternoon, though, in the middle of a lesson, when John was suddenly writhing around on the floor under his desk, making some strange noises, suffering what I now know to be a grand mal seizure. Mrs. Bauer hovered beside his desk, telling us that he would be okay in a few minutes. Then, John's mother came to take him home, because he wasn't feeling well.

No one told us that John had a seizure. None of us knew what a seizure was. It just wasn't something anyone talked about.

I never heard any of my classmates tease or bully John. We didn't talk about him among ourselves, either. I don't know what happened outside of school, but he would have been an easy target for any bully. Regardless, and for whatever reason, he wasn't comfortable playing with the boys, so he gravitated to the girls' songs.

It was obvious that he loved music. John's favorite Beatle's song was "I Want to Hold Your Hand." As we sang and acted out that song, day after day, John got to hold each girl's hand throughout the course of the song, which was sung at the tops of our lungs, sans accompaniment.

But, I think John's most favorite song, that year, was a song by Jimmy Dean, called "Big Bad John." When the girls sang that song, or as much of it as we had memorized, John strutted around, practically preening, head held high. For those few moments, he became somebody important: he was Big Bad John.

Every mornin' at the mine you could see him arrive

He stood six-foot-six and weighed two-forty-five

Kinda broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip

And everybody knew ya didn't give no lip to big John

(Big John, big John)

Big bad John (big John)

Nobody seemed to know where John called home

He just drifted into town and stayed all alone

He didn't say much, kinda quiet and shy

And if you spoke at all, you just said hi to Big John...

Click here to hear Jimmy Dean sing "Big Bad John."

The song goes on to tell the story of how John ultimately gave his life to save the lives of 20 of his fellow miners, becoming a hero, as a result. For our John, these lyrics offered hope that he, too, would grow up to do something great.

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.

John 15:13

When we moved on to fifth grade at Central School the next fall, John didn't join us. I don't know what happened to him, but it is very likely that he went to a special school somewhere. That's what happened then, to kids who were different: they just sort of faded away, never to be seen again.

I hope John grew up to be somebody's hero.