Now, for a voice out of the past! When I remember the Canal Zone, I think of all the great clubhouses! They were really great and bring back lots of neat memories. So, I would not be a true Zonian if I did not share some of my memories of these grand institutions, the clubhouses I knew while growing up in the Canal Zone. First, every town site had a clubhouse. There was Balboa, Gamboa, Cocoli, Ancon, Pedro Miguel, Margarita, and my favorite Diablo! Yes, the clubhouse was where it was happening in my day. Something that of all the years I have lived in the states, I have yet to discover. It was the camaraderie and the wonderful experiences of hanging out and then hooking up in the clubhouse, which will be my lasting memories of the old Canal Zone. When I attended JR. High in Balboa we had lunch on the second floor of the Balboa Clubhouse. It was great and it was dirt-cheap. Fact a dollar or the Balboa would take you a long way back in those days. Then in Balboa High School we did lunch at the Balboa Clubhouse in the back near the doors that led to the swimming pool. It was the best gathering place after school. No TV in my day until 7PM or later, we all had loads of homework. Mostly though we listen to the radio when doing our homework at night to shows like; “The Shadow,” “Hit Parade,” “Gunsmoke,” “Lone Ranger,” The Six Shooter,” “Suspense,” “Dragnet” and there were more but my memory fails me.
This was all before the Teen Clubs. The Balboa Clubhouse like others in the Canal Zone had an honest to goodness soda fountain. It was super! My favorite drink was a Cherry Coke. Of course, there was also banana splits, chocolate malts, hot fudge sundaes, and so on...all from scratch. When the soda fountains past into history along came the Balboa Theater. It was the best movie house on the Isthmus. In fact, I thought it was the best theater in the whole world with a balcony and super-Hi-Fi almost stereo surround-sound. Matter of fact our high school class’s graduation with pomp and circumstance was the first to be held in this brand spanking new theater. What about the old commissaries?
I think, we were the first to come up with a shopping type malls or plazas with everything so close together. It was convenient and lots of fun to shop at the Panama Canal Commissary in the many stores. You could find anything, or at least most things from shoes to comfortable furniture. Then, hey shopping on those balmy tropical nights to 9:30PM during the week was quite an experience. After we finish shopping or looking around for something that had not yet hit the Canal Zone but in a letter from your cousin un the states, he said it was in and if you wanted to be cool you best get one. I usually didn’t pay to much attention what others thought. What was really important was what I thought and if I really needed it or would it just sit in a drawer at home. My favorite drink back then on a hot tropical night, for I did most of my grocery shopping at night, was a Tutti-Fruity. The Clubhouse staff would make hundreds of glasses in a day of Tutti-frutti. We would all sit there under the slow turning ceiling fans and swap stories. Now lets travel over to the West Bank, where on a Saturday night, in the Cocoli Clubhouse the old folks played Bingo and we eat those delicious fried Wong-Tongs out back and washed them all down with chilli’n ice cold Balboas. That was the life as we told stories. We thought then that those days would never end.
Then on a Friday night we would all jump into our hot-rods, scooters, or the family bus and head for the open road at a blazing fast 45-MPH. The destination for most kids was the Diablo Clubhouse. Yes, that was the life. Those nights will always be unforgettable. Sitting at a corner table drinking soft drinks and feeding the jukebox. Oh, the great music of the fifties! Then for a bit of fresh air we go out to the parking lot out front to hear the roar of the steel chariots as the owners were continually fine-tuning their mean machines to get optimum performance. Most of us had chopped V-8’s without any of the stuff that ruins the engine’s performance today and just adds up to wasting gas and low mileage. Back then gas was cheap, 15 cents a gallon tops.
Then there were the bikes. The rages back then, like today…were the Harley Davidson’s. We also had Indians, BMW’s, and those fantastic British Triumphs. There was one fellow who was the envy of all; he had a Vincent Black Shadow. This bike was powerful and very silent. It was all black accented in chrome and at an idle it purr like a bad cat. It was a real mean machine that went like the north wind on the straight away from Los Rios to the Miraflores Bridge Light. Yes, we had to use the Miraflores Bridge to get to Cocoli before the Bridge of the Americas was built and after the ferry stop running from La Boca to Farfan Beach area near the back gate of Naval Station Rodman.
Just look at us...we were all dressed like the “Fonz” from “Happy Days” or James Dean in the Movie entitled, “ Rebel Without a Cause”. That is where our senior class got the idea for the BHS Plaque that we placed under the clock in the hallway of Balboa High. Yes, it was cheap to dress back then, because every day we wore a white T-shirt with a pair of Levi’s, a black wide buster brown belt, black engineer boots with steel horseshoe taps.... kind of loose to get the right sound as we walked down the halls of good old BHS. The jacket was optional. It could be a plain nylon windbreaker or like some of the real old timers who hung out on the verandah of the Tivoli Guest House called them “Wind Cheaters”. Now the guys with the bikes wore black leather motorcycle jackets that contained over hundreds of zippers… or so it seemed. Most people sported flattops or very long hair ala Dean Martin with a short drop in the front and a nice “Duck” in the back. Even some girls wore their hair like this. Some of us with really curly hair had that wind blown look before we even had portable hair dryers. But we all used Top Brass or Brylcream...a little dab will do you. The Panama Canal Commissary was always in stock with this greasy kid stuff. But I’m getting off track. Let’s get back to Diablo Clubhouse on a Friday night when we waited with great anticipation for the “Horror Feature” of the week. Pretty lame stuff compared to what we now see on cable these days. But “Night of the living Death” and “The Werewolf meets Count Dracula or Frankenstein” produced some really wild screams from the theatergoers. We also on one occasion were provided 3-D glasses to really experience the movie. We also had ushers back then with flashlights. There was one who had been a marine or was going into the marines and he loved to go around like a drill sergeant throwing his weight around. On one occasion we all were viewing “Destination Moon” and the movie was almost over when the shiny silver rocket was getting ready to blast-off and pandemonium broke when a few people ran toward the screen, yelling that the shiny silver rocket expelling gases on the launch pad could not leave without them. This disturbance was the entire signal that our favorite usher needed to spring into action. The result was some scuffling and he removed one of the perpetrators with a full Nelson. Judo was in rage back then at the Balboa YMCA offered classes. Yes, those were the days.
The clubhouses served us well they were community centers, study halls and home away from
Home. A place we all went where everybody knew your name like the theme from “Cheers.”
It was the first stop after getting back from our states-side visit. Or before moving on to other things like a drag on the Gamboa straight away where you could hit a plus 45MPH. This was really extremely fast for a 1952 Willy’s Jeep Station Wagon. Not your cup of Java, then a little ride out to Contractor’s Hill. For those who remembered it was on the outskirts of the north end Cocoli, traveling a few miles on K-9 road and just past the Empire Ranges. Up on Contractor’s Hill the world seem to stand still as some would enjoy those wonderful and world-renowned submarine races.
When downsizing hit the Canal Zone and the countdown began toward high noon 31 Dec 1999, people started to leave and the Canal Zone. The clubhouses became fewer in number. But we still had Diablo! That was a place to be any day or night of the week. It was the unofficial greeters’ place to meet for a great cup of coffee and shoot breeze.
One thing I remember most of those who lived the Panama Experience in the Canal Zone be it for all their lives or for just a few years was the great ability to adapt so well to the changing times. When lots of folks were looking for another great hangout, WA-LA the “Snake pit” in Curundu became a favorite watering hole. Why? People just stopped going into Panama City at night in the late 80’s and 90’s as they had done in the 50’s and 60’s. So, places like “El Rancho” or for you really old timers the Balboa Beer Garden that had become a “Bingo Parlor” were so quiet…like tombs some people began to say. Wow, changes had come the latest treaties. Much of the raunchy establishments on J street south of the Ancon Inn were placed “Off Limits”.
The 4th of July Avenue became a natural boundary at night. So, to unwind people would find their friends at places like the Snake Pit in Curundu, the little bar in the Knights of Columbus. Balboa Yacht Club, VFW Clubs throughout the Canal Zone, Elks, The Amador Club and so on. Why? It was safer and you met a better class of clientele and could relax without having to watch your back all the time.
What about those telephone calls to your favorite hangout asking for you, where the standard reply would be, “ He ain’t here or you just missed him.”
Normally, the simple chore of going out for some of that delicious Panama Canal Bread without
the holes that toasted up so fine with a really great cup of Duran Coffee in the morning and a dash
of milk from the MT Hope Dairy Farm, was an excuse to check out the Clubhouse or a nearby watering hole for a quickie. Yes, for me it was paradise and now paradise lost..........The clubhouse was part of the human fabric, so closely interwoven that made the Panama Canal Zone the best place on earth to live.
I can remember on one occasion getting a return assignment to Panama. The year was 1968, and I was getting my pre-deployment physical at Carswell AFB Texas, when the medical technician asked me “Where you heading?” I drew in a short breath and with a great deal of pride answered, “ I’m on my way to the Canal Zone!” Wow, he replied, “ I did a short tour there and really loved it. Especially hanging out at Diablo Clubhouse. It was great for meeting people.” I came back with a big smile from ear to ear and said, “Yea, I know!”
Some kids would even sleep at the clubhouse. The Canal Zone Police frown on sleeping in the clubhouse. And usually a love tap with their nightsticks and a friendly suggestion of “ You go on home now.” Another thing that you don’t see enforce much in some communities today is J-walking, illegal parking, loitering, spitting on the sidewalks or just being a nuisance to those around you. The Canal Zone Police Department protects and preserves all ordinances and those who thought otherwise would get a citation to see the judge in Balboa. Seeing the judge was not a happy time for those who showed disrespect by breaking the law. If you were found guilty by due process, you could spend some unscheduled time in Gamboa Pen…not a place to spend your summer vacation.
The clubhouse was also the site for some heavy-duty studying or cramming for semester final exams. Yes, those were the days; we thought they would never end. Well, I could go on and on... but from the clock on the wall I can see it is getting late. Too bad there is not a clubhouse near by where I could go and see what is really happening. The TV has the “Talking Heads”, but they’re boring. And I realize I could go out for some bread and milk, but I’ll wait till dawn for the nights around here can be like walking through Chorrillo at 3 AM in the morning. Not good. Hoped you have enjoyed my reminiscing of the old clubhouses I knew and grew up with while living the “Happy Days” in the old Canal Zone.