Out of
the Past
. . . into the present
Recollections of Byron Eisner
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From Rags To Riches And Back Again
When I was a freshman, perhaps sophomore, Kerman High School received a shipment of baled rags for use in it's agriculture shop class.
When one of the boys cut the binding straps, a shipping label marked, "From: Folsom Penitentiary" was noticed. Most of us had never heard of it before, until a kid piped up, "It's a jail."
Suddenly, boys were pawing through the rags like shoppers at a department store's half price sale, when it was discovered the rags were blue (chino?) denim jackets. Oh sure, they were faded, raggedy and missing some buttons but so what? We sorted, traded and battled until everyone was reasonably satisfied with their ill fitting selection.
George Hall, the shop teacher, always the gentleman, said nothing as we left class wearing our latest rag tag attire.
The prison garb craze ended abruptly when the boys mothers saw what they had drug home from school. Why, my mother wouldn't even replace the missing buttons or mend the tear on my find.
So it was, the fad ended as quickly as it began, meeting it's fate, doomed by our own mothers, mind you. I didn't even own my jacket long enough to memorize the number stenciled over the breast pocket.