EXCERPT FROM YOU CAN YELL IT!
Here I sit, nearly sixty years after graduating from Leeds High School, and the tune and words of our venerable school song still reverberate through my mind:
(Sung to the tune of On Wisconsin)
You can yell it, you can spell it – L-E-E-D-S!
Skies are clear, the foe is here, it’s time to do your best — L-H-S!
Do or die, we’re feeling high, so let your colors fly
There’s the goal, come on let’s go — for old Leeds High! Fight!
What is it about a place that embeds its memories so strongly in our consciousness? To people that passed through on their way to somewhere else, Leeds was not noteworthy or remarkable. It was just a blue-collar neighborhood area northeast of Sioux City along the “Blue Star Highway” (US Highway 75 — north on Floyd Avenue under and
past the viaduct). Going south on 75 would take you to Dallas, Texas (and on to Galveston), and going north would take you through West Fargo, North Dakota and on to Noyes, Minnesota on the Canadian
border. In my limited world, north-bound on Highway 75 would get you to Hinton, Wren, Merrill, and LeMars (home of Blue Bunny ice
cream!).
With a slight change in direction in northern Iowa, you could get to the magical Twin Cities.
But to those of us that lived there, it was a wonderland of experiences, good and not so good, but remembered with deep and long-lasting fondness and affection. At least that’s true for me. I feel blessed to
have grown up in Leeds during the mid-20th Century – before, during, and after two wars, the nuclear age, and the fertile social, economic, and natural environment – which encourages me to share my thoughts and memories with others.
After I was grown and out on my own in distant places, I was occasionally asked where I was from or where I grew up. I sometimes felt challenged with what seemed to be a minor conundrum. Depending upon who asked and where we were at the time might cause me to respond sort of generally, “I’m from the Midwestern United States.” If
asked as to which state, I would respond, “Iowa,” but if pressed for more specificity, I often would say with an attempt at humor, “near Sioux City, which is on the west coast of the state of Iowa” (Missouri River). If they persisted, I might then say, “Well, I’m really from Leeds.”
Such specificity demanded the interrogatories, because if I had initially given “Leeds” as my response, it would be met with a blank look and the inevitable follow up: “Where’s that?”
Of course, most people didn’t know where Leeds was and they usually didn’t seem interested in learning more than that. But those of us from Leeds never minded the disinterested response, because we knew where it was. And we knew that during the 1940’s and 1950’s, we had grown up in a special unique little world – really a small town, at the time about three miles outside of Sioux City.
