School Story:
Attended St. James Catholic, Heard Elementary, Wilder Junior High, H.V. Jenkins, Georgia Southern, Armstrong State College - received BA English degree cum laude in 1975
I am likely the only person in the history of Jenkins who was not allowed to participate in the official graduation ceremony because I refused to again cut my hair to conform to the school's dress code policy for males. Earlier in the autumn of 1968 I was also not allowed to have my photograph taken for the school yearbook unless I cut my hair. I refused. Throughout my senior year I was constantly expelled due solely on the basis that my hair grew over my ears and shirt collar. I would get it cut to be readmitted, let it grow out, and be expelled again. I spent a lot of time in James Reynolds' office being lectured on the necessity to conform. Fortunately for my photography career I never listened to authority. My junior and senior years at Jenkins were pure misery all because I was one of the few people at that time in Savannah who had what was considered to be "long hair". The school jocks bullied me, the teachers and administration did not respect me, my parents sided with the school, and the general society in Savannah was always less than kind. And what was the big furor about? Hair. Simply hair. A student's civil rights in Chatham County at that moment in time meant nothing. Academically, I was sometimes brilliant but there were certain teachers who had an undisguised prejudice toward me due to my appearance and that manifested in the grades I received - noticeably in English class. I went on to major in English in college graduating with honors having never received a molecule of encouragement or acknowledgement from either English teacher in the 11th or 12th grades at Jenkins.
More pleasant memories involve the music of that era. I recall sitting in my green 1969 Pontiac Firebird in the parking lot in the cold mornings listening on the radio to cuts from the Beatles White Album, which was released in late November 1968.
A heartfelt remembrance for my dear friend Richard Stacy Wiggins who died much too young in December 1969. He and I often postulated on what we would be like and look like as old men; it is regretful that he never got the chance to reach that age. Ricky was my comrade in arms as we both battled the lunacy of misplaced school board administrative power.