Whing-Ding was corny but still fun

“Ever heard of the Whing-Ding?” I asked in the newsroom last week.

The daily paper had run a photo of the candidates for prom royalty on the front page, and we’d been kicking around plans for Promen-Aid, our annual effort to collect stuff for Helping Hand Food Bank.

“The what?” came the answer.

Almost forgotten today, the Whing-Ding was once a staple of the spring high school calendar.

That was the — admittedly goofy — name of the after-prom, all-night party sponsored by the Rotary Club for Portland High School. I’m not sure if any of the other county high schools back in the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s had similar events. But if they did, I’m sure they had better names for them.

Origins of the Whing-Ding are a little fuzzy, and they’re more than a little contradictory.

The concept seemed to grow out of concern about safety of high school kids on the highway on prom night. Yet what the organizers came up with was something that guaranteed that high school kids were out on the highway on prom night.

If you ever figure out the logic behind that, let me know.

Typically, the event would start with the prom itself in the high school gym, which had been decorated with balloons, crepe paper, badly painted murals and assorted knick-knacks in keeping with some memorable theme such as “Under the Sea” or “The Four Seasons” or — if there were leftover props from the Latin Club’s Roman Banquet — “An Evening in Italy.”

None of the decorations were very convincing. It was, after all, still a high school gym. And some of them were recycled from year to year. There was a little bridge-like structure that was used for countless proms and spring formals over the years. It was supposed to transport you into a land of enchantment; instead, it just helped you get from one part of the gym to another.

At some point, roughly around midnight, the prom would conclude and the Whing-Ding would take over.

The first move? Grab your date and get in the car. So much for traffic safety on prom night.

Once in the car, you’d head for the Hines Theatre, Portland’s only moviehouse in the post-Princess era.

Or, you might not. When the Whing-Ding was launched, there was nothing to prevent a couple from heading over to Fort Recovery for a celebration fueled by 3.2 beer. Or, for that matter, from heading to Mexico to get married.

The movie at the Hines was supposed to be teen-friendly, but because it had been selected by a committee of their parents, it usually provoked a certain amount of eye-rolling.

After the movie, it was time to — you guessed it — get back in the car and drive back to the gym. There, the décor and lighting had been somewhat modified and a new band was onstage ready to perform.

(It must be said that back in the day, the bands could be awesome. “Rick and the Raiders” played the prom and went on to become “The McCoys” with a No. 1 hit the next fall. They were followed at the Whing-Ding by “The Jokers,” a band immortalized in Rick Derringer’s “Rock and Roll Hoochie-Koo,” who were — I believe — from exotic Greenville, Ohio.)

So, whing-dingers, you’ve danced, you’ve gone to a movie, you’ve loosened your tie and you’re ready to dance again.

That would take you to about 4 a.m., at which point it was time to help your weary date out to the school parking lot and get in the family jalopy again. This time, your destination was Portland Country Club, now Portland Golf Club.

In other words, sleepy and bleary-eyed, you’d get behind the wheel on prom night to get out on the highway and head south of town, all in the name of traffic safety.

Two things would await you at the country club: Breakfast and mediocre entertainment, often involving pro-am magicians who were still memorizing their snappy patter.

By now, everyone was exhausted.

And by the time Jay County High School opened its doors, the event was tired as well.

Kids had figured out — surprise, surprise — how easy it was to escape the planned events and get into trouble on their own. Attendance awards for those who didn’t escape were initiated, but they didn’t gain much traction.

So, sure, looking back it sounds corny and maybe a little misguided. But I’ll let you in on a little secret: It was fun.

Maybe not whing-dingery fun. But fun just the same.