Lincoln County had the original "green" building, though it was by no means environmentally friendly. It was just the opposite, a drafty building with creaky floors, loose windows, and a spooky basement filled with coal. The old Green Building, as most of us called it, sat at the corner of Dallas Street and Sunset Drive. As a kid of the '50s, the Green Building seemed huge to me. It dominated that corner.

A lot of memories were created there. For many, the first taste of school took place in that building. Looking back, I associate the Green Building with teachers, Band directors, mischief, and a sense of nostalgia for days gone by. It was another time for sure.

Coach Jimmy Smith taught me PE and Health there and I took Band upstairs. Mr. Harrison taught band there in the early '60s and I recall that if you caught his wrath, a glue bottle might come flying your way. All these many years later it occurs to me. Why did a band director need glue bottles to begin with?

Later, Mrs. Brown taught Band, and she had a daughter named Aaron Ruth I believe. Being insensitive as kids can be and her being a "NFL," an "outsider," we called her "Mullet." She could have used braces. We could have used some manners. One Mr. David Holder taught band there also.

Green Building architectural rendering by Skip Hardin, Class of 1967. Compared to the modern wings built in the early '50s, the building was archaic and a tad peculiar. As Skip Hardin recalls, it whiffed of the unfamiliar. "The building had a real unique smell, probably the oil on the wood floors. Not unpleasant but kind of strange. I think it was compounded by the fact that you were immersed in a new experience anyway, starting school and all."

I remember that walking up the sidewalk to Band in that building wasn't a joy. For me, the old Green Building exuded a kind of dread. I didn't care for it much. Dawkins Holloway and I would walk together to the old building, taking three steps forward and two backwards, delaying for a while the inevitable: entry into the greenish building.

At some point, all classes moved to the fairly new brick elementary wing. It was there in the brick wing just below the Green Building where we'd volunteer to dust erasers for Mary Faith Partridge and other teachers. As we'd slam erasers against the green walls, small puffs of chalk dust hung in the air, a stark contrast to the inky blackness of the coal-filled basement mere feet away. Sometimes, on a dare, we'd sneak into the basement where coal was piled up; it was the blackest place on the planet. I remember some high school kids sneaked in there to puff cigarettes.

All these memories owe their existence to a 1920 bond in the amount of $20,000. The bond was issued to finance the construction of a two-story "tile and concrete" building. It gained fame as the "Green Building." In 1924, its enrollment totaled 350 and nine girls and 12 boys graduated.

After the new high school went up, the Green Building housed grammar school classes until the new elementary school was built. For years its fate was that of storage facility. It burned around 1970, accidentally on purpose they say, but that's a story for another day. A school board office was erected in its place, and the spooky old coal bin was filled in at last. (Many thanks to lincolncountyreddevils.com for its information on the old Green Building in its "History of Lincoln County Schools.")

I asked a number of people to share their memories of the building. My brother-in-law, Joe Willis, remembers eating lunch on the top floor, and he remembers playing in the coals. My sister, Brenda, remembers having PE there. "Coach Smith," she said, "introduced me to PE, and that planted the seed for me to major in Physical Education and Health. He taught us tumbling on old mattresses. It was so much fun!"

Brenda also remembers taking Band on the top floor, and it was there in that old building that she learned a lesson that wasn't fun. "I remember the first and only time I skipped class," she said. "I didn't want go to Band in the Green Building one day in the fifth grade. I didn't want to stay in the band. When it was reported to my parents, they got me with a switch."

Spankings kept us in line back then. (Too bad we can't do that today.) Skip Hardin recalls that Coach Smith spanked him with a ping-pong paddle in a coat closet near his classroom on the first floor. "On a dare," said Skip, "I called him 'Snuffy.' I received three blows, in reality, not very hard. The anticipation was the killer. Coach Smith told me that morning he wanted to see me after school; he let me reflect on it all day."

Skipper remembers playing pingpong with the windows open during warm weather and occasionally a ball would fly out the window and have to be retrieved.

Like others, he remembers the spooky cellar with the stairs leading down to what was once the old boiler room.

Skip remembers that a classmate got her skull fractured right outside the building when a collie tripped her and she hit her head on the sidewalk. For a brief period, the school outlawed any dogs on campus. "We lived only about 100 yards or so up School Street on a house facing Humphrey Street, and, my dog, Frisky, would frequently show up at school. I still remember worrying about her because Clyde Ellison (the custodian) said if he caught her he was going to lock her up in what was the old bathrooms underneath the first floor. He called himself the self-appointed 'Dog Catcher.' "

Skip remembers the old mattresses they had on the weight room floor, apparently because there wasn't enough of a budget to get real equipment. He recalls how the coaches had put together a bunch of homemade benches and equipment with wood and galvanized pipes. Skip remarked that he didn't see a real trampoline until he got to college. "If some student from up North came and saw our school, he probably would have thought he had landed in the 19th century, but we were happy as could be. We didn't know any better."

Lou David Lee remembers having Miss Meta Booker and taking naps in her class on brown dry-cleaning paper. She also remembers the cloakroom and Mr. and Mrs. Holder, bandleader and choral leader respectively.

Liba Dawkins Cunningham remembers the Brownie and Girl Scout organizations having meetings there. Lib Estes confirms that. She led a Girl Scout troop that meet there for years. Charles Estes recalls that the second floor had a stage and each floor had four rooms. No one can remember much about the Green Building's bathrooms. Originally, it had an outdoor toilet, an outhouse somewhere between where the high school and old elementary school wings stand today.

Frances Steed Aycock remembers taking chorus in the Green Building under Joanne Adkins. Jim Aycock remembers taking dancing there in the first grade.

The Legend of Miss Lucy thrived when the Green Building was in its prime for some of us. "When I was in middle school," said Frances, "I remember we would aggravate Miss Lucy Glaze. She didn't want us on her side of the road. She'd take the rake and run us back over to the green building side."

Not one reminder of the old Green Building survives to my knowledge. It lives in a place called memory. Whenever I drive past the site of the old Green Building, I go back in time. I roll back the years, and right there in the air where the second story used to be a band plays "On Wisconsin," a standard Mr. Harrison taught us. A few sour notes and a glue bottle finds its way down a tuba horn.

Out back, two boys are dusting erasers. One dares the other to step into the coal bin where some high school guy with a ducktail is smoking a Lucky Strike. Inside on the first floor, Coach Jimmy Smith, his coach's whistle hanging around his neck, is teaching tumbling. Across the street, Miss Lucy is minding her business, hoping any curious, mischievous kids will return the favor.

The Green Building looms big in memories. It was just an old building, built before indoor plumbing was routine. Whatever we are, for many of us that building played a part in our life. Back when school was new and a bit frightening, we made memories there. Old mattresses, Coach Smith, Miss Lucy, dusty coal bins, marching bands, and much more began there for some of us. In a way, it's a shame it doesn't survive. As my cousin, Frances said, "All in all, it is a shame that this building and so many of the older buildings in Lincoln County were destroyed."

I'd wager that those oiled wooden floors that smelled "not so unpleasant but kind of strange" to Skip Hardin would be beautiful today, if restored.

For many of us, the old Green Building was the first place we spent a lot of time after leaving the safe harbor of childhood and home. It was the first of many buildings that would figure in our lives and memories. And memory is where you'll find it ... hovering in the air above the corner of Dallas and Sunset.

Email Tom with feedback and ideas for new columns. tompol@earthlink.net