October 1955
- charliebunton
- 7 hours ago
- 3 min read
Homecoming week wrapped around Rogers City like a favorite old blanket—warm, familiar, and woven with the hues of autumn. The maples lining Main Street blazed like glowing embers. Alumni wandered back into town, suitcases landing on weathered porches, laughter spilling across the yards they’d once known so well. They returned to the school that shaped them, to friends who still felt like family, and to cheer for the Rogers City Hurons beneath the Friday night lights at Gilpin Memorial Field.
The high school hummed with excitement, like a radio turned just a notch too loud. In the halls, students whispered and shoes squeaked on the polished floors as everyone waited to hear who would take the homecoming crown. When the announcement came, the place exploded with cheers: Senior Janice Klee was named queen, escorted by football captain Norm Makowski. The rest of the court—Juniors Sally Krueger and Mark Smolinski, Sophomores Rita Pines and Anthony Bellmore, and Freshmen Rosalind Rickle and Alex Andrzejewski—strolled through the corridors with a mix of pride and disbelief, as if they were gliding just above the linoleum.
By Friday afternoon, Main Street pulsed with life. The homecoming parade stepped off from the high school, the marching band leading the way with brassy notes that bounced off storefront windows. Ten floats—each one a masterpiece of crepe paper, chicken wire, and teenage imagination—rolled past cheering crowds. The glee club waved from a cloud of glitter, the pep club tossed orange and black pom‑poms into the air, and the Girl’s Athletic Association marched with a confident stride.
That night, Gilpin Memorial Field glowed like a lantern against the dark sky. The bleachers trembled beneath stamping feet, and the cold metal rails numbed the hands of anyone who held on too long. Breath rose in white puffs as the crowd roared for the Hurons, their jerseys bright under the lights. Though Rogers City fought hard, Alpena Catholic Central edged them out 25–19. The scoreboard told one story, but the spirit in the stands told another—one of pride, grit, and a community that never stopped cheering.
When the final whistle blew, no one let the loss spoil the night. Students rushed off to the homecoming dance, where Coach Dick Abraham crowned Janice Klee, her tiara sparkling like it was dusted with stars. Couples swayed to slow tunes as the band’s music floated out the open windows into the crisp October air. Shoes scraped the floor, laughter tucked itself into the corners, and the night lingered on as if no one wanted it to be over.
Every moment of the week found its way into the pages of The School Static, the school newspaper. Under the steady guidance of editor‑in‑chief Janet Jones, the staff captured the heartbeat of Rogers City High School—its triumphs, its traditions, and its stories worth remembering.
Beyond homecoming, football pride stretched far past city limits. Ivan Schaedig, a 1950 Rogers City graduate, was making waves at Central Michigan University. Playing end for the Chippewas, he helped drive the team to an impressive 8–1 record, shutting out three opponents and outscoring all challengers by a staggering 327 to 79. For locals reading the news, it felt like watching one of their own carve his name into something bigger.
Meanwhile, at the Rogers City Hospital, the Michigan Crippled Children Commission held an Orthopedic Clinic as part of its statewide effort to support physically handicapped children. Sixty‑seven young patients attended, including twelve‑year‑old Neil Kortman, who credited the program for the leg braces that allowed him to walk the school halls with his classmates. His gratitude was quiet but powerful—a reminder that progress sometimes comes in small, steady steps.
On the corner of Erie and Fourth Streets, Johnny’s Mobil Service added a spark of excitement to the town’s daily rhythm. Proprietor John Curtis announced the arrival of Jeep vehicles, their rugged frames promising adventure through mud, snow, or sand. Locals wandered over to admire the new models, running their hands along the cool metal and imagining where those four wheels might take them.
And at the Rogers Theater, teenage boys lined up with sweaty palms and nervous grins to see Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch. When her white dress billowed above the subway grate, the entire theater seemed to hold its breath. For those boys, it was a moment they’d never forget—equal parts shock, fascination, and the dizzying realization that the world was bigger and more mysterious than they’d ever imagined.
