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By Tom Boggs

Lost in the ‘50 one more week. One could do worse than be lost there.

Yep, we had formal and informal dances back in those days, and the fellows as well as the gals showed up in formal attire. Spiffy, I reckon you could call it. We boys would go pick up our date, and have to meet the glare of the daddy, who would be remembering what he had on his mind when he was our age, and then we’d have to endure the picture-taking by mama. Sure as shooting, the flashbulb wouldn’t flash, so the daddy would sternly mosey over, lick the base of the bulb, stick it back in the socket, and finally … finally a flash, and we could be on our way. 

We would have already checked the fuel gauge on the Ford or Chevy, and if it needed a bit of Moline, just stop by Jimmy Cannon’s Pure Oil in Linden or Mr. Black’s in Demopolis, where you got your tires and oil checked, and about a dollar’s worth of gas at 19 cents a gallon. 

Once we arrived at the gym or the community center above the river in Demopolis, we didn’t have to worry about the record player not working on account of there was live music. Sut’s Six is a band I recollect the most. Ol’ Sut would toot that trumpet, and then he’d come out with “Jadda…Jadda…Jadda Jadda Gee Gee Gee.”

Did a heap of waltzing back then, and I reckon I was a fair two-stepper, but when it came to that jitterbug stuff, I usually found an excuse to watch Frank Aydelott take the limelight in Linden, or up in Demopolis it was something to behold to watch Put Compton and Buddy Perry, later on to continue to thrill folks by their dance floor antics as Mr. and Mrs. Buddy Perry.

Well, I’d be feeling kinda low ‘cause I didn’t do well fast dancing, and was really no Fred Astair at the two-step, when all of sudden like Sut and them would strike up the “Bunny Hop.” Now, all you’d do was get in a long line, holding on to the one in front, and you hopped around, and at the right moment kick out one foot and then the other, and kinda flap your arms in tune. 

Time to leave the dancing, and be one the way to Jowers’ Drive In at Linden or The Cherokee in Demopolis for a snack, and there’d be time for the old tube radio to warm up in the car so y’all could listen to tunes that just thinking about them transport me back to the ‘50s, and tunes such as “Love Me Tender,” “A White Sport Coat And A Pink Carnation” or the Platters coming forth with “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes.”

Since your after-the-dance snack only costs 60 cents for both of you, you’d feel pretty free with allowing that pretty girl to put a whole quarter in the jukebox there in the booth with you to play five more of those fabulous tunes of the ‘50s while you munched and sipped, and gazed at that lady friend, and wondered if she was disappointed in your dance steps, or if she really did think you were a pretty doggone good Bunny Hopper after all.

 

Tom Boggs is a columnist for the Demopolis Times and a native of Marengo County. His column, “Days Gone Bye,” appears weekly.