SAN MARINO NEWS
By Mitch Lehman

Their annual pilgrimage to the parking garage at Wells Fargo Bank is as reliable as the return of the swallows to Mission San Juan Capistrano, or the buzzards to Hinkley, Ohio, but only I and maybe two other people who read this paper – one being my mother – will understand that last one.
Let’s just say it’s remarkable, and leave it at that.
Their children long graduated from San Marino High School, more than a dozen members of this amazing community continue their commitment to what I am growing to believe is this city’s most incredible byproduct, and that coming from a city that produces much: Grad Night.
I admit I was initially wowed by the grandeur of the event when ten years ago I first set foot in what I thought was the gymnasium, only to be knocked back through the double doors in awe of the apparatus that had been constructed within.
But the busy-ness of this time of year, and possibly the regrettable human tendency to want more of every good thing brought me to the point where I was no longer as impressed as I was the first time I peeked behind the curtain and saw the Wizard of Oz.
That has all changed, and I am once again a believer.
This year, I had the pleasure of working on a little film for the graduates and I enlisted the help of three seniors from South Pasadena High School. Aubrey Thurman, Chris Reid and Jeffrey Stephens are three of the most interesting young people you would ever want to meet, they performed brilliantly – beyond all our wildest dreams – and last Thursday, our script brought us to the in-progress Grad Night set, this year themed ‘Indiana Jones.’
I gave them a quick tour of the place, and don’t think they didn’t receive a quizzical glance or two as they cavorted about in their orange and black letter jackets. But the trio looked completely at home by the expressions of wonderment and awe that washed over their beautiful young faces.
The initial view of the ‘Temple of Doom’ from West Drive was more than enough, but their curiosity piqued as we entered ‘Marakesh Temple.’ All three were engrossed in every detail of the place, seeing it for the first time with the eyes of a child.
“This is what you do for Grad Night?” one of them asked, mesmerized, “every year?”
All the while, they never took their eyes off the elaborate centerpieces, the flaming cauldrons that seemed to magically hang from the sky, the riverbed and waterfall that had miraculously risen from the bus circle, the meticulously painted walls, and dance floor and game room and video screen and snack shack and blackjack tables and climbing wall, oh my.
I must admit, their extraordinary reaction to something I had blindly grown to view as ordinary gave me an entirely new appreciation of San Marino’s Grad Night celebration, and I arrived on Friday night prepared to experience it all anew.
I graduated on a hot Sunday afternoon in Northeastern Ohio. My parents and I spent some time together before I was released to make the rounds of the several graduation parties that took place across our town which was, ironically, the same size as San Marino. While I consider myself extremely fortunate and have no complaints about the educational experience I enjoyed, a Grad Night sure would have provided the proverbial cherry on top.
On one of my first days at The Tribune some thirteen years ago, I grabbed a handful of old newspapers to see what I had gotten myself into. One of the first articles I read was an editorial by our publisher, Clif Smith, entitled Grad Night: A Labor of Love. I thought it was brilliant then. It’s genius now. Hundreds of miles separate the communities which come together to provide an experience as rich – and safe – as ours.
The community owes a huge debt of gratitude to that “Old Guard,” as it has been described to me. We should probably assign them all bird names given their migratory nature come Grad Night time (“Look, honey, here comes a Horgan!”).
So thank you Jim Barger, Tommy Wong, Bernard Lim, the aforementioned Bob Horgan (I wasn’t wearing a wristband one year and he threw me out), Skip Josenhans, Bill Mann, Dan Dizon, Jason DuNah, Justene Pierce, Ting Lit, Pat Connell (on at least two surgically repaired knees), Kathy Cunningham and Keith Schlerf.
Deserving second-level mention are “greeters,” for lack of a better word, Coach Bob Drew and David Pierce, who dress in themed costume and inquire as to where the graduates will be attending college (with a particular ear for Occidental in the case of Pierce, Ohio Wesleyan for Drew), while admiring the outstanding orthodontistry that has been practiced upon our youth.
The inherent danger of writing a piece like this is you will invariably omit many deserving folks, but you know who you are. Allow yourselves a few minutes of pride for what you have created, never wanting or needing – but truly deserving – the thanks and respect of all.