We’re So Fine, We’re So Great, We’re The Class of 78
The CCHS class of 1978 annual, or yearbook. It was a very good year.
1978 — the year that is, that was, that shall always be. A milestone year for me, 1978 is the year that I graduated from CCHS.
As a class, we came together as freshmen from all corners of Cumberland County, from Mayland to Grandview, from Pineview to Pleasant Hill. We were Homestead Bulldogs and Cumberland Elementary Red Devils and Crab Orchard Tigers and Woody Woodpeckers but collectively we became Jets.
I’ve always liked being a Jet — it’s the embodiment of the 1960s and 1970s, the decades in which the class of 1978 grew up. A jet is sleek, modern, forward looking, unwilling to stand still. We grew up with the ever-present threat of nuclear annihilation, but we also saw the U.S. put a man — several men, actually — on the moon. Granted, we did it to poke a finger in the Soviet Union’s eye but by God we did it. I’m not sure we’re capable of such incredible feats any more, but I digress.
Closer to home, Crossville was a smaller place than it is today, with more of a small town feel, because it was a still a small town. Looking back now I can see where things were starting to change in 1978. Highway 127N had just become a four-lane to I-40, with very little between Elmore Road and the interstate. The Palace theater was abandoned once the Capri Twin opened next to Gondola in Woodmere Mall. Downtown still had a variety of retail but that was changing fast.
The CCHS building was not quite 20 years old and still largely in its original configuration. You had A, B, C, D, E and F wings (I think F wing was added some time after the building opened in 1962), connected by a central spine where the library and a drama room were located. The gym was a stand-alone building at the end of B and D wings. Seating in the gym was two levels of moveable bleachers on one side. Besides athletics and physical education, the gym served as assembly space for the student body.
In the open areas between the wings (A and C, B and D) were smoking areas — concrete pads where students could go to smoke cigarettes. I took full advantage but I’m still a little shocked that smoking was not only allowed but accommodated. Teachers and administrators were strict with the rules — smoking was allowed before school, between classes and during activity period (free time in the middle of the day, sort of recess for teenagers), and you had to be on the concrete. What I don’t remember is anybody ever smoking in the restrooms, but the arrangement was not without issues.
1978 was peak disco and while I wasn’t necessarily a fan, disco is the soundtrack of my high school years. I ran across an NPR article from 2018 that asked in a headline “40 Years Later: Was 1978 The Greatest Year In Music?” — and goes on to make a pretty solid case. While I think you could make a case for just about any year (and indeed, 1978 comes in 13th on a Cleveland Plain-Dealer list from 2017 of the 15 greatest music years, behind 1969 [no.1] and 1977 [no.9] but ahead of 1979 [no.15]), it’s nice to be included.
But 1978 wasn’t all disco. — there was lots of good rock, new bands and sounds, the return of established bands. Punk had largely come and gone but singer-songwriters like Jackson Browne, James Taylor and Dan Fogelberg were prominent. One of my favorite concert experiences from the Seventies was in 1978, when my multi-talented friend Bobby Taylor talked me into going to see John Denver at MTSU, in Murfreesboro. John (RIP) played on a round stage that slowly rotated during the performance, probably three hours or so, a stage he didn’t leave. His band took breaks but John Denver played on, and was engaging and witty with the crowd. I was blown away and came away with a new appreciation for John Denver. It was a fun night.
I didn’t know it at the time — and sometimes I have to squint a little when looking back, to see through all the flak (or maybe it’s just cataracts) — but 1978 and the late 1970s were some special years. Really, they were.
I can’t speak for everyone of my generation, the late Baby Boomers — Generation Jones — but those years began the shift from my Crossville-centric world to a broader worldview. I didn’t emerge unscathed — let’s just say mistakes were made — but I had a great time and started tasting life outside Cumberland County.
A writer friend and I have spent hours talking about that time between high school and the rest of your life, when, as he puts it, “all things are possible.” You still have time to be who you want to be, to do things that aren’t available to you once you settle into career, marriage, kids, etc. (not necessarily in that order) — you know, that period when life tends to beat you up a little.
That’s where my generation finds itself now — on the back side of that beating. There’s still plenty to worry about — aging parents, grown children and grandkids, surviving retirement and our own mortality. I’d like to think that everything that got me here will help me write these final chapters to my life. We’ll see. Mistakes are still being made.
But I’ll always have Crossville and 1978.
rpdgraham@gmail.com