The phone bill
I spent my formative years in the Los Angeles suburb of Eagle Rock. It's a little point in the northeast section of the city in between Glendale and Pasadena. It's become very hip in recent years.
I completed my high school education at Eagle Rock High School. The school is unique in a number of ways : It is the only combination junior and senior high school in the Los Angeles Unified School District; the school used to have two graduation ceremonies each year, summer and winter. I was S'66 (Summer 1966); The graduates used to wear prom dresses for the women and white dinner jackets for the men. Nowadays it's the same old caps and gowns, sorry to say.
Soon thereafter I joined the Navy. There was a war on. I chose the Navy partly because of family tradition, more because my buddy Larry (RIP) felt it to be a good idea since we were surfers and we'd always be stationed near the ocean. We found that not to be the case.
While in high school I was on the staff of the school newspaper, The Eagle Scream. As a senior and therefore a senior staffer, I was a featured columnist and wrote “The Heap of the Week” which featured one bitchin' ride each week, usually owned by one of my friends. I counted on technical information and language from Hot Rod magazine to accurately described the “power under the hood” and what aftermarket accessories had been installed. Bonus information could include ET and top speed if the car had been officially raced at any of the SoCal dragstrips. My own car, a 1950-something Triumph Estate Wagon was prominently featured, with photos in the S'66 graduation edition. I still have a copy.
The Scream had a “business office” across the hall from the journalism classroom. The office had a telephone that did not go through the school switchboard to be used for official business only.
Keep in mind this was a time when one had to be careful about dialing a number that was a “toll call” or even “long distance” as those were billed at a higher rate than a “local call”. This was also shortly after the implementation of “Area Codes”. These were three digit numbers that when dialed before the phone number allowed you to directly dial the other party rather than go through the operator. Additionally, you could use the area code to contact directory assistance for a city anywhere in the U.S. or Mexico.
As I think back, I think it may have been my idea to use the power of the area code to get a phone number of what was, at the time the most infamous business in all of Baja California — The Blue Fox in Tijuana. Suffice to say it was the raunchiest night club ever. If you were a SoCal teenager, you knew what it was. We called and spoke with the manager who said he'd hold a table for us “up front”.
Fortunately one of my fellow hoodlums had one more year of Spanish than me and was able to converse somewhat clearly.
Of course we couldn't keep this to ourselves and had to share with our classmates, none of whom believed us. Well, not until a few weeks later when the principal, Mr. Hamer came into class with a handful of paper and a very upset look on his face.
“Some students have apparently been making a number of long distance phone calls using the journalism business phone to cities throughout the area…and also to Tijuana, Mexico.”
All of a sudden I felt the heat of my classmates' eyeballs burning holes in the back of my head. A sudden intake of breath.
“Wow, they really did call the Blue Fox. They're in so much trouble.”
As it turned out, Mr. Hamer told the assembled class that all that needed to be done was to cover the extraordinary costs on the phone bill. I only remember that the amount didn't seem like it was all that much. We waited until Mr. Hamer and Mrs. Rivera (a wonderful teacher who did not deserve the grief we caused her) had left the classroom and emptied our wallets and pockets on her desk.
The matter was never mentioned again. I'd like to think that the story has lived on, embellished as needed and updated appropriately to be used as a teaching moment for the journalism students of the 21st Century.