C. C. Phillips
C. C. Phillips
Robert and Constance Milto agonized over their daughter's pleading for permission to attend the sock hop scheduled for Friday night. The dance was to be held in Stockton's high school gymnasium. Most of the young people Milt had attended school with in the district would be at the function and the friendly, outgoing girl had also made acquaintance with many of the students from the larger school in town. Extenuating circumstances forced the anxious parents to harbour reluctance but Robert Milto finally relented, stating that Milt would travel with them and be ready to leave the dance before midnight.
Danny and Val Reid had extended an open invitation to the Miltos asking them to stop by their home for a visit in town. Mr. and Mrs. Milto arranged to be at the Reids' house while Milt attended the dance.
As the family parked in front of the school, Benny Collins and Brenda Yeast pulled in beside them. Benny exchanged pleasantries with the Miltos while Brenda and Milt chattered excitedly and urged Benny to lead the way to the dance floor.
Before leaving her parents, Milt poked her head in the open window on her mother's side of the luxury sedan. “Thanks for letting me come, Mom,” she said.
Constance Milto smiled weakly, “Have fun, honey, and mind what you say.”
Robert Milto said, “Milt, we'll be back to pick you up at a quarter to twelve. Be sure that you are here.”
Music blared from a hi-fi as Benny led the girls into the festively adorned gymnasium. Balloons and colourful streamers swayed from the huge laminated beams which spanned the court. A table had been set up at the front of the room and a large glass punch bowl filled with refreshments rested in the middle. On a second table a banquet of food awaited distribution. Kenny Rogers and the First Edition belted out Just Dropped In To See What Condition My Condition Was In from a 45 single which whirled around on the record machine. Benny and Brenda joined the cluster of couples dancing in the centre of the gym and Milt soon found herself amid a throng of jubilant ex-class mates. The fact that Milt's education now came from a correspondence school did not place the pretty girl as an outcast and her effervescent personality drew friends near; a trait that had served her well when the Milto family first arrived in the area. Tommy Regier, who had attended the country school with Milt but was a couple years her senior, asked his former classmate for a dance and the pair waltzed around the floor while Neil Diamond sang Red Red Wine. Following Tommy's example many of the young lads jostled for a turn to dance with “the new girl” as Milt had been christened five years previous. By Stockton standards, she continued to be a recent arrival.
Sixteen year old Paula St. Jacques and her sister Andrea, who was a year younger, joined the growing crowd of chattering teenagers. Paula had blond hair and stood an inch taller than her brunette sister. Both girls were strikingly beautiful. Milt thanked her partner for the dance and quickly edged close to the pair. Giving both girls a hug she said, “Oh, it's so nice to see you. Did your Mom and Dad bring you to town?”
Andrea giggled. “Paula's boyfriend brought us in his dad's car.”
Paula said, “Les is just a friend. He is not my boyfriend.”
Anyone who knew the St. Jacques girls knew of their constant bantering. Everyone also knew that the pair were inseparable. Les Moffat, a tall, athletic lad whose perpetually grinning countenance and friendly nature made him at home in most situations, arrived with a glass of punch in each hand and presented the beverage to the sisters. Milt gave the boy's hand a squeeze, “Hello Les, it's nice to see you.”
“It's nice to see you here too, stranger. Last time I saw you, your face was red as a beet, you were covered in ashes and smelled like the inside of Gunnar Hofsted's smokehouse.”
Paula said, “Oh yes, Milt! Everyone says how brave you were to save all of Pete Liscombe's animals when the barn burned down. Weren't you terrified?”
Before she could reply, Benny Collins ,who had taken a time out from dancing, spoke up from the edge of the circle. “Shucks, it weren't Milt did anything. It was that mutt of hers and that big gelding done it all.”
Everyone laughed at Benny's assessment of the situation. Andrea St. Jacques said in Milt's ear, “Well, I think you are a hero, Milt.”
A tear welled up in Milt's eye as she whispered, “Thank you so much for that, Andrea.”
Les Moffat couldn't resist a shot at the Collins lad and loudly announced to everyone within earshot that the bridge crew was looking for an explosives expert.
Milt rescued her red-faced young neighbour from the moment by requesting a dance. The two friends moved out on the floor, Milt gliding gracefully, Benny strolling awkwardly in his tall heeled riding boots. The pair danced to Otis Redding's Sitting on the Dock of the Bay.
The evening flew by as the young people enjoyed the last gathering before final exams. Soon summer holidays would separate most of them until the next school year. Laughter flowed and tunes continued from the hi-fi. Several of the boys were in charge of the records and they kept the dancers hopping with a good mixture of the latest and old favourites destined to become all time classics. Milt's feet began to hurt as she seldom had the opportunity to sit for very long. Les Moffat and Milt bopped to the Beatles' newest Lady Madonna, and then the amateur deejays rolled out a tune from a few years back, J Frank Wilson and The Cavaliers' Last Kiss.
We were out on a date in my Daddy's car…
“What's wrong, Milt?” Les asked as his dance partner suddenly stiffened and her face turned ashen.
“I… I don't feel so good,” Milt said. “My… my feet are sore. Perhaps I've overdone it.”
“Well, come on, we'll go sit with the St. Jacques sisters and you can have a break. I'll keep the boys back.”
As Les and Milt left the dance floor, Andrea and Paula escaped the lads who lingered about hoping to dance with them. The four seated themselves on a row of benches along one wall of the gymnasium. Tears welled up in Milt's eyes as she sat down between the sisters. It seemed as though the young lady were on the verge of crying.
“What's wrong, Milt?” Andrea asked, her deep brown eyes searching the tear filled blues of her friend.
The song ended but the words pounded in Milt's brain. Oh where oh where can my baby be? The lord took her away from me. “It's that song,” Milt whispered. “It's so sad. It… it just makes me want to cry.”
Paula smiled. “Now, Milt, that song has been out for four years. Don't tell me it bothers you that much.”
Milt grasped Paula's hand. “Most times it doesn't get to me but tonight… Paula, Andrea, do you have to go home tonight? I mean, could you come and stay at my place?” Milt's voice rose as she pleaded, “We could have a sleep-over.”
“Wow!” Les interrupted. “Mind if I come along, too?”
Milt didn't slow down in her rising enthusiasm, “Sure, Les, you come too! You can stay in the bunkhouse.”
“Shucks, I want to be in on the… What did you call it, a sleep-over? Is that kind of like a pyjama party?”
Milt smiled through her tears and spoke earnestly. “I mean it. Won't you all come to our ranch tonight?”
Andrea placed her arm around the distraught girl's shoulders. “We can't come over tonight, Milt. We have to attend the 4-H picnic tomorrow and Dad needs us to help with the preparations. He's one of the leaders, you know.”
Paula patted the hand that still clung desperately to her own. “We can have a pyjama party next weekend.”
Suddenly Robert Milto stood before his daughter. “It's time to go, honey,” he said.
Milt looked deeply into her father's grey eyes and saw the sadness and grief the handsome man managed to conceal from those who did not know him as well as she. “Dad… Daddy, can Paula and Andrea come to our place tonight… and Les too?”
A stern line tightened Mr. Milto's jaw. “Not tonight, Milt. Come along, your mother is waiting in the car.”
Milt stood to follow her father and the dam of tears burst forth as she hugged each of the three friends and clung desperately to Andrea. Robert Milto grasped his daughter's arm and gently but forcefully made her release the younger St. Jacques sister, then with a curt nod to Les Moffat, led his sobbing daughter from the school gymnasium. A solemn group of teenagers stared in confused wonder as the Miltos exited.
Constance Milto rushed from the car and helped her husband settle the now hysterical Milt on the bench front seat and the couple slid into the vehicle on either side of her. As Robert Milto slowly drove out of the parking lot, his wife rocked their distraught daughter in her arms as she too sobbed quietly.
…A community never fully recovers from a tragic event that claims young lives. In May of 1968, three teenagers: Les Moffat, and sisters Paula and Andrea St. Jacques, were killed in a vehicle accident. The trio were headed home from a school dance when, apparently, a deer darted in front of the car. The animal was struck down and the automobile skidded out of control, crashed over an embankment, and rolled over several times before coming to rest at the bottom of the steep grade along Miller's Creek…
Submitted by Hazel Regier
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