The counterculture was at its peak and slipping fast when the ’60s turned into the ’70s. The Beatles would break up. Nixon would resign. The last of the boys from Vietnam would limp home. But Carlsbad High School had somehow forged a separate peace. Sure, some students would turn on— to drugs, tune in— color TV had finally arrived, but very few of us would drop out. We would have had to answer not only to our parents, but we’d have to look Dr. Telford or Mr. Boone in the eyes.

Or Gene Baker. One of the wisest teachers on campus was a janitor. Baker was a hard worker, a Holocaust survivor and CHS philosopher. No matter how long our hair or how psychedelic we tried to be, a smile and a chat with Mr. Baker would focus life back to earth tones.

Or Mrs. Bursvold. Her introduction to American Literature was unforgettable. While other teachers were taking roll the first day, Mrs. Bursvold would glare at her class over reading glasses. In a black robe and powdered wig, she would thunk down a thick book and read “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” with intonations that would have rattled its author, Jonathan Edwards.

Clipping
Most of the guys were letting their hair go long, which afforded a very localized initiation rite to CHS—clipping. There is hardly a male who walked the halls of Carlsbad High in the ’70s and ’80s that does not have a good story about clipping or being clipped. By June each year, all eighth grade boys were rerouting their walks home, sneaking through back yards because the junior and senior men were hunting for them. Once caught, the in-coming freshman was taken to an undisclosed location and his locks were clipped. Shaved is really a better word. And there were styles to accentuate the humiliation.

There was “the grandpa” where just the top of the head was shaved in normal male pattern baldness. There was “the Egyptian” that left a poor soul looking like Yul Brynner in The Ten Commandments. Or the clipper would leave his initials in a sort of hair brand on the clippee. Clipping died out by the late ’80s either because it got out of hand or because everyone wanted to look like Michael J. Fox in “Family Ties.”

Flower Power
Once clipped, a freshman could enjoy a more pleasurable rite of passage, the one he had been waiting for—float meetings! A float meeting was really a party with lots of friends and crepe paper flowers. Carlsbad was still a fairly young school and still building traditions. The Lancer Day Parade floats went wild in these years. The trucks got bigger and the floats got better. In the ‘70s, the competition between the classes for the best float was pretty stiff.

Students were off campus, but learning structural and civil engineering (“How are we going to get a float that big under those power lines? And what about the underpass?”) They were learning aesthetic design, resource management and water balloon guerilla warfare. By the ’80s, the floats in progress had to be guarded around the clock.

At the game and parade, the mascot rode a horse. The Lancer requirement was that you own your own steed. Mrs. Reglien introduced the concept and Diane Soto (’78) took over with style followed by other equestrians willing to wear tights. And queens reigned over the festivities until 1977 when Frank Castro was crowned the first Lancer Day King with Stephanie Rader as coregent.

New Sports and Title IX
Gridiron grit is a Carlsbad custom, but in the ’70s CIF championships would remain elusive. Still, many great players would emerge. Dale Mitchell graduated to a great career at USC and then went on to play with the San Francisco 49ers.

Head Coach Mel Galli arrived at CHS in 1980 and Carlsbad football was once again looking down the throat of a CIF post season. Glen Kozlowski would be a star in the Galli era catching an historic pass late in the fourth quarter to beat archrival Oceanside. Kozlowski would go on to play for Brigham Young University and for the Chicago Bears. Early ’80s baseball at CHS would produce the Baltimore Orioles Brady Anderson.

But other sports were gathering the talented and growing into teams. 1974 would see the first Surf club, but CIF would be years away. 1977 saw wrestling go from a club sport to a CIF recognized team. When the city pool was built, swimming and water polo became the new sports of the ’80s.

By the ’70s it was high time for the Lady Lancers to burst into the picture. Up until 1973, The Girls Athletic Association was the club in which Lancer women experienced the magic of the game. In 1974, girls sports joined CIF. The ladies were finally in the house, but they were relegated to the back room for a few years. While the basketball team had sweats, gym bags and towels with Lancers emblazoned on them, every girls sport recycled the same polyester uniforms.

Though Title IX was enacted in 1972, Jimmy Carter would use it in 1979 to equal the playing field between guys and girls athletics. P.E. teacher Jane (Seybert) McGhee remembers, “Each (women’s) sport got its own uniforms, coaches’ salaries became more comparable and P.E. classes went co-ed.”

And the girls were ready to play. From entering CIF to the end of the decade, the Lady Lancers would field teams in softball, basketball, gymnastics, tennis, volleyball, cross-country and track. “Colleen Freitas suggested I get a track team going,” McGhee said. She would be head coach for 18 years. One year McGhee was the men’s and women’s coach and took three athletes to the state meet: Pam Masterson, shot put; Sue McNeal, high jump and Alonzo Robinson, hurdles. (McNeal took State her sophomore year and would go on to compete in the Olympics in Barcelona, Spain)

High School Musical
Lancers showed great prowess in other areas, too. (1976 had 14 valedictorians!)

In the fine arts, CHS soared. There was a growing marching and jazz band program under the direction of Robert Kendrick. The Jim Shepherd years were 71-89. That’s when choral music at CHS went off the charts. Shepherd says humbly, “I was blessed with many wonderful students.” Out of a student body of 1800 in the ’80s, 300 students were in the program. “We’ve always been proud of that,” Shepherd says.

His students laid the blame for their great success squarely on Shepherd’s shoulders. Diana Roseberry-Bolton (’77) said of Shepherd as a teacher, “Some people just have a gift; he was really good from the git-go.” Her husband Ron Bolton (’76) concurred, “His excellence came from his passion for the music.” (Yep, the Boltons were high school sweethearts. The choral department produced a few long-lasting marriages. Singing 17th-century love songs every day is not a bad foundation).

Monica Hall. 1979. Enter, stage left. When Ms. Hall took over drama—imagine being in charge of high school drama?—her goal was to offer four levels of performance training. Her students have been honored with many awards. “Each trophy is special,” she says. But those students know where credit is due. When Doug Jack (’80) won an Emmy, for the show he put on during the Salt Lake City Winter Olympics, he jumped in his car, drove down the coast, crashed Ms. Hall’s class, pulled his Emmy out of his backpack, lifted it aloft and shouted, “Thank-you!”

The ’80s boasted a decade of musical theater bravura, thanks to the duet of Shepherd/Hall directing. The productions started in the old gym, but Carlsbad appreciated the musicals every year and applauded with their votes. The Carlsbad Cultural Arts Center, built in 1982, put a proper stage right on CHS campus.

Fashion and Fads
Times change. When it dawned on someone that platform shoes, headbands and polyester were outrageous, there was a fashion overcorrection. Big hair made a comeback (especially piled on one side of the head), earth tones went fluorescent, everything—even T-shirts—got shoulder pads and parachute pants were offset by clunky high-tops. Wallabees, cords and dolphin shorts were way in style. Streakers gave the narcs something to chase besides the tardy.

But some things remained the same. Jerry Bryan would take senior pictures in August. Sue Team would design whatever costumes were needed. TR’s mustache would relax a little when ASB ran smoothly. Nan Leighton would question your parents’ notes in the morning and pin your mortarboards on in June. And when you heard “. . . Lancers, hail to you!” for the last time, you would miss them all. •