Remember the Pranks? Remember the Boys?
'Member When You Ran the Gauntlet?

By G. Watson James Jr.

We are now far west on Franklin Street. It is winter about 40 or more years ago.

Hear ye! hear ye! old Nolley boys. Gaze at yourselves in the ancient photo accompanying this chronicle, and brought to light by your old schoolmate, Mason White. Look at the "kelleys," neckties and watch chains. Are you on the front porch of Nolley's first school, diagonally across from the Commonwealth Club? Do you remember the two-story frame building and that little outhouse where the negro janitor lived? How many of you remember the day somebody put red pepper on the stove? Mr. Nolley sneezed, you all sneezed; then your teacher's coup-de-mair when he closed every window, retired to the yard with this parting shot: "you find out who did it yourselves." History records you did find out and the lad was given the works. Perhaps Allen Hirsh remembers when he hit Mason White with a top cord and what was the sequel. Truth to tell all this was before my time. I'm only reporting what I've heard. However, how many of you thought that the lad in the rear row to the right of the second post would some day be sheriff of Richmond, or the chap on his left would in after life be a medical missionary to China?

Of course you remember E. Loveall John, who assisted Mr. Nolley in imparting education whether or not it met with your approval? As you recall it was not long before the first school gave way to progress, and Nolley's moved further west. Some of you went to the new schoolhouse and there were quite a number of new boys, many of whom you will probably recognize in another illustration.

Let us refresh your memory as to those who sat close to you in the first school, and later in Pine Street building. There will be some who will never again answer "present" to an earthly roll call, but here goes: Maury Timberlake, Pollock Gilmore, Henry Grant, Herbert Mercer, Rudolph Bolling Teusler, Carrol Miller, Mason White, Palmore Stacy, Woodward Hall, Charles Edwards, Hector Dyson, Allen Hirsch, Samuel R. Carter, Hugh "Dooker" Mercer, W. F. "Phiz" Gordon, Ellis Jones, Williams W. "Buck" Michaux, -----Whitlock, "Zoll" Fuller, Mathew Gilmore, Charlie Talbot, Algie Grant, James Cottrell, Norman Randolph, Thomas "Tommy" Trent, Allen Freeman, Willis C. Pulliam, Des. Archer, Arthur Cannon, Herman Wendenburg, John S. Ellett, Lucien Hall, George Derbyshire, Carrington Watkins, Leonard Cycle, Dana H. Rucker, "Jumbo" Fleming, Blythe Moore Jr., Thomas Price, Cullen Pitt, Lucius Cary, Hamilton Baskerville, Novell Walker, Reeves "Doc" Fleming, Booten Hill, Charlie Martin, Corbin Shields, Louis P. Ecker, Robert "Tabby" Richardson, Stuart Bowe, Bruce Bowe, Palmore Stacy, Russell "Fatty" Wills, Henry Carter and William "Billie" Isaacs. If your name has been omitted, speak up. We are going up to Pine Street.

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Most any winter day from 1894 to 1908 if you were in the vicinity of Belvidere and Grace Streets at noontime you could see a yelling frantic group of boys kicking a black rugby football along a triangular shaped lot. By deed this lot belonged to the R., F. and P. Railroad, but by right of eminent domain it was the property of Nolley's boys. At this juncture we'd like to post a bet that none of the boys who about 1904 kicked out two pairs of shoes a month could today run the length of said lot. They can't take it!

However, one block west of this Field of Mars, between Grace and Franklin on Pine was the red school building with its two downstairs class rooms, and assembly room on the second floor. Those of us whose names are recorded below still retain a vivid memory of that scholar, gentleman and brilliant teacher, George Merrit Nolley. We remember him with quickening pulse, reverence and lasting gratitude for his guidance. We can see him now with his erect form, black crisp hair tinged with gray, alert kindly eyes, and closely cropped mustache. We remember also that small pointed ruler which he tapped at times upon the rim of his desk, which stood at the top of the stairway. We can see him reach in his vest pocket for the slippery elm or was it some form of cough drop that he would nibble from time to time? He was as cool and collected at the end of school as when often he rang the brass bell in the morning to summons us from play.

In our day his faculty was composed of A. B. Chandler, later to become a foremost educator in the State, and John Merrit Lear, now a professor at Duke University. Mr. Chandler taught history and English; Mr. Lear elementary mathematics and Mr. Nolley higher mathematics, other subjects, and particularly Latin. What a Latin scholar he was, and we don't mean maybe! Compound fractions and decimals were a delight when explained by Mr. Lear, and "A. B." knew his history and English. They were "sports" in the best sense of the word and played the game with us. Their quality of dignity was not strained.

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What days they were when Pine Street was a morass of red slippery clay in winter, and in spring a cloud of dust, raised by the "thundering herd." But it is nont these peculiarities of the street that linger with one as does the narrow East sidewalk, about two and a half feet wide, along which as a new boy you ran the gauntlet from Grace to Franklin. It was often further, depending upon how many old boys returned, and if each of them had ample room to swing paddles, belts and other swatting implements. A fence and brick wall on one side a sea of waving paddles on the other and nothing in front of you but the wind. It was much the parallel of being chased by a red hot stove which you could never outdistance. It was eons of time before you arrived at the end of that fiery lane, and reward--a paddle with which to soak the next mile-in-nothing flat victim.

If you were at Nolley's when your parents decided you were far too gawky to wear short pants, then brother, you were out of luck. Your newly creased "longs" were spotted a mile away, and preparation made instantly for your reception. Long before the automobile ad writer coined "knee-action" you were required to demonstrate it. Two huskies held you, while two other tormentors rolled your pants as high as they would go. Usually you were made to parade for several blocks behind some ancient vehicle, followed by a yelling mob. What price long trousers?

On snowy mornings the atmosphere of school was surcharged with excitement, yet in spite of this there was unusual diligence shown during the recitation periods. No one would take a chance of being kept in at recess. Why? Here's why. Hard by, but two blocks away at Belvidere and Main was the stronghold of our traditional "enemies," the McGuire boys. We never had to hunt for them. They were always looking for us.

As a rule there were several skirmishes in the morning preparatory to the noonday battle. The high commands in both schools surrpetitiously planned the campaign behind geographys, but oft as not the strategy was upset by surprise attacks. At length came the zero hour, and across that white expanse of Monroe Park would float the battle cry:

Red and Black,
Kewack, Ke-wack,
Kee-no-Ky-no
McGuires!

The battle was on with a vengeance, Nolley's strategy consisted in the front line being held by the husky lads, while small fry would make ammunition and run it up to the front. Thus the conflict ebbed and flowed despite repeated calls to the second police station. For 30 delicious exciting, blood-spilling minutes it raged. There were many casualties, and as an aftermath colds, croop, headaches, kept in boys, and some Baron Munchusen tales of heroism. There was also a rushing business in window panes. No side ever won in the other's estimation, and the argument on this score is still raging after more than 30 years.

No account of Nolley's in those days would be complete without the stirring tale of what was the first school strike in Richmond, perhaps in America. You old-timers, remember the great day when the R., F. and P engine ran off the track and almost crushed dear little Elba Station. There were wrecking crews and derricks, and all kinds of excitement. The streets and our triangular lot were blocked, and in consequence no 12:01 train puffed up Belvidere Street, and hand gate lowered and all that sort of thing.

By mutual consent it appeared that the wreckage couldn't be cleared away without aid of the combined brain power of Nolley's boys. But Mr. Nolley was not of the same opinion, so at 12:30 the bell rang--and we struck!

Minutes became hours, but the brain trust refused to take under advisement any of the three "R's". We couldn't desert one of Virginia's oldest railroads in its hour of calamity. We are very hazy as to how many orders by bells and otherwise were sent out for our return to classes, but this we do know that after it became evident we were persona non grata with the wrecking crews we slowly returned, or did we slink back to our desks. Then was launched a tongue lashing that few of us will ever forget. It was far worse than corporal punishment. Long shadows had descended upon Pine Street before we wended our separate ways home.

Equally vivid to the old Nolley boy are those annual subscriptions taken up for Christmas and Thanksgiving presents for Mr. Nolley and our other preceptors. It was usually the case of finding the largest living turkeys in Sixth Street market, and getting the gobblers, with all trimmings into school without being detected. Those presentation speeches were oratorical gems.

Then those commencements when we returned to our desks with or without certificates of distinction and medals--The Latin medal as we recall was a knockout. We missed winning it by one declention. Then Chelf's Drug Store across the street where we spent our pennies and tried the patience of its genial proprietor. Then those regular periods when we all "broke out" with the pigeon raising, stamp collecting, tag pitching itches, and the boy, we met him on Main Street a few days ago, who used to trade beaten biscuits for preserves and bread, a top or a rare tobacco tag. Whata' school! Whata' gang! Tempus fugit!

Well some of the thundering herd of that particular period at Nolley's were: Andrew Christian, Archer Christian, Thomas Atkinson Jr., Allen J. Saville, Robert Saville, Gilbert "Gilly" Greentree, James "Jim" Beal Cohen, William "Billie" Rueger. Landon "Lum" Welford, McDonald "Mac" Wellford, Frank Christian Jr., William O'Ferrall, William "Bill" Reinhardt, Edjar J. Kaufman, Erskine Buford, Raleigh Forbes, William Forbes, G. B. Wickham, Benno Droste, Samuel "Sam" Waddill Jr., Gordon Smith, Edmund Strudwick Jr., Herbert "Herb" Claiborne, Hamilton "Ham" Claiborne, Merrill E. Raab, Bryant Tennant Jr., Peyton Fleming, Carl Fleming, Gordon Lefebrve, Hugh Campbell, Sydney Smith, Rolfe Glover, "Boots" Wood and the writer.

Before we write finis there is an epilogue to the Nolley story indicative of his boys' affection for him. Not many years ago a certain Nolley alumnus, now one of the leading merchants of Richmond, received a letter from another Nolley boy stating he had paid a visit to their old teacher's grave on the slope of the Blue Ridge Mountains. There was no headstone! What could they do about it?

"What did you do about it?" Why didn't you let me know? he was asked by one of the boys who had been living out of the city for years.

The merchant thought for a moment. "I took two hours off, paid a few visits and sent the money that night."