The “new” Powell County High School in Deer Lodge is more than 100 years old. An addition to the west side of this building, at left, was completed in the late 1950s. Senior Lounge was at the back of the school at far right.

By Kevin S. Giles

It probably occurred to reasonable adults that grouping “Senior” and “Lounge” in a singular title was a spectacular admission of what would follow, but so it was.

I’m a veteran (survivor?) of the historic, but short-lived, experiment that began at my Powell County High School in the fall of 1969. We were the new seniors, the Class of 1970, emboldened with a plan that we should be trusted without supervision in a remote corner of the old school.

My classmate, Todd Eliason, details the experience in his story below.
Before we get to Todd’s recollections, it’s worth noting that at its start, Senior Lounge was a noble undertaking that showed predictable school pride. The Class of ’70 was loaded with leaders who had the will and skill to get things done. Thus came the lounge.

The school had two unused rooms off a small hallway behind the study hall, which in those days was in a big daylight basement that once was the school’s original gymnasium.

These two rooms weren’t big enough for classrooms. Most likely they were used for storage or offices in the school’s early history.

We spent the summer cleaning and painting the rooms that would become our lounge. Our senior class bought carpet, too, and furnished the rooms with overstuffed chairs and a table. The inner room had a window and a few steps leading down to the hallway. In the outer room, the brighter of the two, large windows extended nearly to the floor.

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In the beginning we paid little attention to the proximity of Senior Lounge to the library. We didn’t know that anyone below us, including the principal, could hear everything we said.

Senior Lounge quickly became a favored gathering place. Seniors were required to sign a log kept by the study hall monitor. As I recall, precious little studying transpired in Senior Lounge. It became a place of hijinks and bravado, a launching pad for poker, escapes downtown to cruise the drag, and other willful violations of school policy.

Ah, youth. It’s good to rebel, is it not?

The novel ‘Summer of the Black Chevy’ by Kevin S. Giles grew from memories of his hometown. The novel also takes place there, in Deer Lodge, Montana.

How we managed to inhabit Senior Lounge through graduation marvels me still. The ’71 class behind us also had the lounge. After that, it appears, the experiment ended.

Being older and of sound mind now (at least the former is true) I admit that we confused teenage rebellion with misbehavior. We knew the difference. We were impending adults, after all. I should be careful not to implicate all the seniors of ’70. Most followed the rules. Some seniors, because they didn’t have study halls, never visited the lounge.

It never occurred to me then that I someday would write about the lounge, or even write books. It’s noteworthy, though, that memories were vague when I recently attempted an informal survey among several classmates. It’s been nearly 50 years. Or, more likely, it’s better to keep secrets in the family.

———-

By Todd Eliason

During the summer of 1969, while the world stopped to watch the Apollo 11 landing and other historical events, a few naïve, yet intrepid, rising senior boys (I was one) had an inspired idea to pitch the idea of a place that the senior class to congregate during Study Hall periods to talk, study together, and hang out with friends. To all of our dismay, Principal Roger Ranta agreed to give us the privilege commensurate with the appropriate responsibilities.

A vacant room above the Library (what a genius idea, that was) was offered for the Senior Lounge and, during the waning days of summer, it was transformed into a vibrant, graphic, and psychedelic environ complete with wicker furniture, a couple of tables, and a polished hardwood floor that would echo sounds down into the Library.

The sales pitch for a place to hang out, study together, and relax between classes turned into a den of inequity. Initially, the card games were benign games of hearts, pinochle, and double solitaire. In short order, those games turned into poker and blackjack, led by the dubious dealer, Rick Dues. The stakes became higher and the voices became louder. The complaints from the Library became unannounced visits by the Vice Principal until, one day…BUSTED! Our nefarious gambling den was discovered and shut down. Only through a lot of begging and promises was the Lounge allowed to stay open.

As the year wore on and senior-itis took its toll, we discovered that opening the window on the east side would permit a small leap of faith…to freedom. Checking into the lounge for attendance purposes, one could then open the window, jump out of the room, and head downtown for the period to cruise the drag, hang out at the R-B Drive-In, or get into any other form of mischief. With the administration none the wiser, we’d be back in the 55-minute window to head to our next class.

We did hang out with friends, talk about our soon to be freedom from high school, laugh at the antics of our classmates, and grow as individuals within those walls of the Senior Lounge. The experiment of senior class freedom was short-lived, as when we graduated in 1970, the lounge’s days were numbered! The experience of self governance for a group of 17 and 18 year olds demonstrated that maturity was not yet a strong suit. But, it was a blast!

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The authors were among about 105 graduates at Powell County High School that year.