I've written before — with some bitterness — about the original Lauderdale School, one of my family's many contributions to the culture and refinement of Memphis.
Bitterness? Well, that's perhaps a bit strong. Let's just say I'm sad that our family name no longer adorns the school, which was demolished and rebuilt and renamed, and renamed again, and renamed again. Today, it's known as the Ida B. Wells Academy.
Opened in 1902, the sprawling red-brick complex was a home away from home each year for hundreds of neighborhood schoolchildren, such as these tykes. I found the old photo tucked away in the archives of the Lauderdale Library. Whoever saved the tattered and faded image didn't bother writing the date on the back, or the names of any of the kids or teachers pictured here — which is aggravating as all get-out, as you can imagine.
I hope every single one of them went on to fame and fortune, thanks to the education and guidance provided during their days at Lauderdale.
I also wish that I had that fine Lauderdale banner. Look how large it is! It would look quite dashing on the mast of the Lady Lauderdale, the yacht I keep moored at the McKellar Lake Marina.
I love these old class portraits from the early days. The children's faces betray a lot of character, if you ask me, and yes — then as now — there was always some "character" goofing off for the school photographer.
Such as this smart-alecky fellow in the back row.
