One day in eighth grade someone said, “Did you hear about the Mouseketeers? They were killed in a car crash!”
As with many accidents of the time (1959), the car carrying the Mousketeers stalled at a railroad crossing. The oncoming train was unable to stop, and the Mousketeers were not able to get out of the car in time.
Not all Mousketeers died in the crash, only the most popular – Anette, Darlene, Tommy, Cheryl, Doreen and Bobby. And Jimmie and Roy, the adults.
Skeptical Bob did not believe the story. Why were the eight in one car? If the eight were in one car, why was Jimmie driving? Could Disney not afford a driver? Why couldn’t everyone – anyone – get out of the car? Were the doors somehow jammed? Did the windows not roll down?
Derision met my questions. I was supposed to believe.
In my mind was a picture of six my-age (approximately) Mousketeers and two adults in a 1952 Chevrolet sedan (I don’t know why I imagined a 1952 Chevrolet), sitting across rails at a crossing, the car for some reason dying at that spot, or maybe high-centered in crossties and rails. It didn’t make sense.
And, of course, it had not happened.
Stalling at a railroad crossing was a theme of death, real and fictionalized. All adults had a story of somebody’s cousin’s friend whose sister or aunt died in a car stalled at a crossing and hit by a train.
In rural areas, few crossings had signal lights, and none had drop bars. People sometimes thought they could beat the train. People still do.
Teen Angel was a tearjerk song, sometimes real.
But not the dead Mousketeers.
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
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