After writing a column some weeks back about the old Smithfield Elementary School on James Street, a follow-up, with reflections about the companion Smithfield High School, seemed appropriate.

The memories of that building are many, but when I sat down to write something, the one that kept coming back was the day I nearly lost a finger in one of its doors. Obviously, it made an impression to remain my most vivid memory of the building after more than 65 years, so I’ll start there.

First, a bit of background. That old school was two stories tall atop an English basement, and the floor-to-ceiling heights were impressive. Classmate Jim Bell emailed me recently with recollections of the school, and estimated room heights to be 14-16 feet. That’s probably about right. 

Each classroom was heated with a row of radiators lined up under tall windows where they would warm whatever draft came in around the windows and carry the warm air across the room.

In late spring and early fall, the huge hot water boiler in the basement was turned off, but there was no air conditioning to be turned on. The only cooling came from whatever nature and the building’s design provided. Those same tall windows that lined the exterior walls were fully opened, allowing air to flow through the classrooms and into the central hall through heavy, two-inch thick doors. 

My classmates and I were seventh graders, under the tender care of Victoria Shearin, a veteran teacher of — heaven help her — just-turned teenagers.

My desk sat next to the classroom door (probably where she could keep an eye on me) and it became sort of my unofficial duty to catch the door whenever a breeze began closing it. 

You can visualize what’s coming. A stronger-than-usual gust hit the school and that giant door began closing, gaining momentum as it went. I stuck my hand out to catch it as I had done numerous times, barely looking up when I did. 

The door kept closing, taking the tips of my fingers with it. It closed and latched, a finger of my right hand firmly mashed between door stile and jamb.

There seemed to be nothing to do but stand up, walk around the desk and open the door, which I did. 

The blood flew and a horrified teacher sent me across the street to the nurse’s office, where the finger was bandaged. It didn’t seem like anything was broken, so a bandage and couple of aspirin were the extent of the first aid. No trip to the ER. Folks didn’t get terribly rattled back in those days.

I’ve carried a scar on the top of that finger since that day, though it has faded almost completely. It’s my most unpleasant reminder of the old school.

Most of the other recollections are good. My friend Jim recalled in his email, as do all who speak of the old school buildings, the smell of floor oil that permeated rooms and halls. It was not an unpleasant smell, but as Jim recalled, it made us quite aware of all the wood in that building and what might happen if there had been a fire.

The old high school included an auditorium with excellent acoustics, which served as a locale for community as well as school assembly activities. It was there that the Smithfield Little Theatre was born.

The basement included restrooms and the boiler room, but it also housed the school’s band room and the single room that served multiple duties as chemistry and physics classrooms and labs, under the tutelage of the school principal, J.G. Reveley, who did double duty as a science teacher.

The old school was built in 1921-22 and served as the northern Isle of Wight high school until 1980. For the first four-and-a-half decades of that period — the period during which I attended — the school served only white students in compliance with Virginia’s determination to oppose integration. During its final decade-and-a-half, it served all the public school students in the northern end of Isle of Wight.

When the old high school and elementary school were retired, Isle of Wight County supervisors had no vision for their continued use. Thus, the oldest of the buildings were demolished. Today, tennis courts sit atop Mr. Revely’s chemistry lab site and the school band room.

A new wing of the high school, built in the 1960s, survived thanks to the more enlightened view of some non-politicians, including the late Dr. A.C. Rogers, who envisioned using the building to house a branch of Paul D. Camp Community College. That facility, plus the Smithfield Library and the YMCA, today occupy expanded versions of that newer wing.

The same year Smithfield High was being built, the city of Suffolk built its first “modern” high school. That school stayed in service until 1990, but residents of the city were determined to save it and convinced the city’s politicians to let it stand. From that old school, they created the Suffolk Center for Cultural Arts, which is today a vigorous center for artistic expression.

Though old Smithfield High School wasn’t saved, it lives on in the memories of aging alumni and a scant few old photographs, including a terrific one of the cornerstone-laying ceremony in 1921.

 

John Edwards is publisher emeritus of The Smithfield Times. His email address is j.branchedwards@gmail.com.