The years were the 1960s, particularly 1963 through 1967, the years I spent in high school. Those were the years when a night out in Lincolnton meant hanging out at one of several venues: cruising the 378 Drive In, hanging out around the Milky Way Freeze Bar Sunday nights, and a brief period going in circles at the skating rink just off 378 at the edge of town. For an even briefer time we had “Underground Lincolnton” where a pool hall accommodated those yearning to grow up and become a hustler. Any of you recall those days and places? I do but my memory is dim and I apologize in advance for any errors contained in this trip down memory lane.

What set these memories in motion was some good news I received last week. The University of South Carolina Press sent me an email congratulating me on the acceptance of a book proposal I submitted. The book documents a golden era for folks, many of whom are now in their late 70s, many who spent their teen years hanging out at Myrtle Beach perfecting a dance known as the shag. While they had the pavilions and the surf and sand, we did not. We had, however, our own devices and places.

Growing up in Lincolnton, I had no idea such a thing as the shag existed and while I don’t dance the shag, I have found its history interesting, particularly its connection with blues, country music, gospel, and rock and roll. And writing the manuscript keeps bringing memories of my own teen years to the surface, and those memories are indelibly linked to Lincolnton. We had our hangouts, all gone now, but I’m sure the new generation has a place of its own, and in time it will have its memories as well.

The 378 Drive In was operated by a fellow by the name of Voyles I believe. Clarence Voyles. And it consisted of a hardwood floor, counter, booths, and a jukebox where 45 RPMs played the hits of the ’60s. “Jukeboxes” played a pivotal role in the teen culture back then, and it surprised me to learn that Gullah helped give the Wurlitzer and Rock-Ola their nickname. “Jukebox,” an offshoot of “juke joint,” comes from the Gullah word “juke” or “”joog” meaning disorderly, rowdy, or wicked. Indeed, we were some rowdy lads back in Lincolnton in the ‘60s. Or so we thought.

There may have been a pinball machine in the 378 Drive In and some dusty dimly lit part of my brain wants to resurrect one of those bowling games where you slid a heavy metal disc (lubricated by finely powdered sawdust) toward pins hanging from a wildly lit platform. Bowl a strike and all the pins disappeared in a second to a clatter of metal! Bowl too hard and the metal disc would bounce back, hitting you on the hand. In a carryover from the late ’50s, the girls who frequented the place, I believe, wore bobby socks and saddle shoes.

The fare consisted of burgers and Cokes and French fries and a great hamburger steak I’m told. My high school classmate, Janis Hawes Reynolds remembers the food. “As you neared the old 378 Hamburger Drive In you could smell those burgers and fries cooking. Your mouth would start smiling and salivating from those odors. You could see the bright lights and it would just make you feel happy.”

My old college roommate, Garnett Wallace, remembers that the 378 Drive In served supper to the football teams before home games, a hamburger steak dinner was, he said, a $1.25 and it was a great place to hang out on Friday and Saturday nights. “We would drive around it every so often to see who was there. Gene Frazier worked as a “hop” for a while as did many others,” he said.

My chief memories of the place involve the cars that revved their engines outside cruising round and round the place, crunching gravel. Back then, a few fellows sported the ducktail haircuts soon doomed to surrender to Beatle hairstyles. Truly bad dudes smoked and had ducktails and you avoided them like the plague. Their muscle cars were part of the classic car era. Back then, the bigger and faster a car was, all the better. Among their ranks were the Pontiac GTO coupe and the Chevrolet Chevelle. I recall a few Corvettes, Dodge Chargers, and Thunderbirds. Other cars of the era were the Plymouth Road Runner and the Chevy Camaro Super Sport. These cars were simply small cars with big engines, meant for street racing and dragging. As well there were some classic 1957 Chevys with roll and pleated seats. I recall that Gartrell Blackman had a ‘‘57 Chevy that was the envy of all.

In those days, guys would talk excitedly about drag races and who won and occasionally shake their heads in dismay upon learning old soand so blew his engine or threw a rod.

Next door, up near the stoplight, was the place where a skating rink operated for a while. The place seemed immense though now I realize it was quite small for a skating rink. We turned more than we skated straight ahead. The skates were the regular kind. Rollerblades had not come into vogue. One of the highlights of the rink I recall was “moonlight” skating. The lights would go down and couples skated hand in hand.

Many of us would have been well served by strapping pillows to our behinds. A few people skated extremely well. I recall that Kathy Kennedy reigned as the star there .... she skated with grace and speed and I never recall seeing her fall. Seems roller skate birthday parties took place there too. I recall some game involving pennies and skating but for the life of me can’t recall the details. In one vivid memory, I recall seeing a teacher, Greg Poole, leaning forlornly against a wall while the Beatles’ “Love Me Do” played over scratchy speakers. It was as if he had nothing better to do and perhaps he didn’t.

Garnett has memories of the skating rink also. “The skating rink, as you recall,” he said, “was in what is now City Tire (and I believe that it was once the Plymouth dealership run by, at one time, Johnny Freeman) and was a great place to meet up with kids from McCormick.” He recalls also how its operators “would always roll up the old auto bay doors during warm weather and that allowed us non-skaters to watch!”

The Milky Way Freeze Bar, run by Mrs. Suzie Power, was a favorite hangout on Sunday evenings. You’d order at one window I believe and pick up your food at another window. (I may be confusing that with the Tastee Freeze that came later. Washington, by the way, had a Hastee Freeze.) I’ve been to many a hamburger joint in my time but none smelled as good or had burgers as good as the old Milky Way Freeze Bar did.

In the summer, we all hung out at the park and its concession stand on the hill overlooking the swimming area. The hamburgers there were good also and seems there was a record player of some type there as well.

For a brief period, Bobby Parks ran a pool hall beneath the street in “downtown” Lincolnton underneath what was once a clothing store run by JP Wells. Saw my first Florsheim shoes in his store. That was back in the day. Eons ago. We’d ease down the steps to the pool hall or sneak in from the back feeling all bad and rebellious, acting like hoods. We’d shoot pool and shoot the bull even more. The click of the balls as they clattered about made the place sound more like the south side of Chicago where bad guys hung out planning break-ins and robberies. Or so you’d think, but when the phone on the wall rang a chorus would ring out from most of the fellows. “If that’s my mom, I’m not here.”

All these memories came to me in fits and starts and I’m sure many of you better recall those days when life seemed simpler and in many ways a lot better than today despite all the so-called progress we’ve seen. Every generation has its hangouts and for many of us babyboomers, life in Lincolnton in the 1960s meant evenings at the drive in, local hamburger joints, and a brief fling with skating and pool. Whenever I pass these spots my mind drifts back to the 1960s and I see folks long gone just hanging out. That was our era and those were our places. It was all we had, and for many of us it was more than enough.

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