Hail to Lew Wallace!

Yes, it's been a while.  A bad shoulder has had me down and I have a draft of another post stored away, but never could quite finish it.  Today I'm not angry, as I have been in the past.  I am in mourning.

I grew up in Gary, Indiana, in the Glen Park neighborhood.  Now, only those of you who hail from Gary will understand the neighborhood reference, but it was a lovely residential area with its own business district, many churches and schools aplenty for the baby boomer generation of which I am a part.

Those of us who grew up in Glen Park - particularly if we had older siblings - couldn't wait until we were of the right age to attend Lew Wallace High School.  We aspired to her academic excellence and, at the time of my entry to the school, 60 years of tradition.  We were educated under the auspices of one of the best systems in the country at the time, the William A. Wirt system; our studies were well-rounded, challenging, and we were not just names on a page.  Leadership and individuality were encouraged, although some, like me, flew under the radar quite a bit.  Our teachers cared:  did you need help with something?  Stop by after class.  Our academic growth and personal development were the primary concerns of the faculty.

In the massive auditorium, a long-ago graduating class had a motto that epitomized our school etched into the wall above the stage:

Character is Higher Than Intellect

A quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson that I can see with the hindsight of 40 years outside those walls summed up what we were encouraged to be.

Gary, Indiana, as most people in the US know, has undergone radical changes since I left Glen Park on graduation day all those years ago.  But Lew Wallace High School, the only school - at the time - recognized by the family of General Lew Wallace and allowed to use the Wallace family crest as the school crest - continued to stand proud for many years.

But the inevitable came, and as school enrollment diminished, the building was put to varying uses as a multi-grade academy.  Funds were not in place for whatever reason to maintain the historic building, and the facility fell into disrepair.  Academic standards were not being met to satisfy the governmental powers that be, and it was finally decided last year to close the doors as a school forever.

Shortly after classes were dismissed forever, some alumni got together and organized a tour of the building for old time's sake.  A former principal, well into his elder years, made a long drive to be a part of the day and although I wasn't there, the photographs taken by friends tugged at my heart.  What got me the most, however, was the video produced by a former neighbor who included the tour group gathered on that magnificent stage singing the school song together one last time.

Early this month, an auction service was retained by the school corporation to come in and liquidate what furnishings were left.  By this time there was no electrical power in the building and I'm told the ceilings were falling down in certain rooms.  The stench was said to be hideous as it was reported that there was standing water in one of the school basements.  That made me sad in and of itself; this was once a proud, beautiful building whose heartbeat was the footsteps and voices of her students and faculty.  As we walked down the halls all those years ago, voices rose and fell in different rooms.  Choir practice was in the loft above the old gym.  The radio station operated by the students was noticeable by the red light shining in the hallway:  ON AIR.  Art classes, home economics, industrial arts classes, athletics, clubs for any possible interest group thrived within those walls.  Pep rallies used to rattle the windows in the old auditorium on Friday afternoons before football games.  So much that is no more.

The local media is now reporting that looting is taking place within the building as the doors are open for buyers to remove their auction purchases.  I'm told a copy machine lies smashed at the foot of what was the main staircase.  Trash and debris litter the rooms and hallways as well as the grounds near the doors.  That's why I mourn.

Why does it have to end like this?  I know the old adage "you can never go home again," and I have chosen not to do so, but the mental images are wreaking havoc with my sense of propriety.

Why must there be those who think they can salvage and/or help themselves to things that are not theirs?  I have no problem with the auction buyers; they followed the rules and hopefully respected what was for an awful lot of us our home away from home for the four years of high school.  It's those who feel a sense of entitlement to a now-abandoned building and seek to destroy and vandalize that irk me.

I won't even begin to mention the priceless works of art and pieces of furniture that were in the school for generations.  Amazingly, only a few people claim to know where just a few of these pieces are.  The rest have vanished, whether to feed someone's greed or destroyed out of ignorance I'll never know.  The IRS supposedly has a tax lien on the property, but I'm told that until a fellow alumnus called them about the paintings they had no clue of the school property.

Those of us who came of age being Lew Wallace Hornets will never forget our years there:  we laughed, we cried, we learned, we struggled, dreams were built and hopes were sometimes crushed.  

Let me close with the last few lines of the school's loyalty song:

"We're loyal, Lew Wallace, to us you'll e're be dear,

and for the colors of black and gold, 

cheer, Lew Wallace, cheer!"