It was the end of the 1950s and the dawn of whatever came next, still a debate, or fistfight, depending on venue. Jimmy's Radioland persona became the masked mauler of top 40 radio, controversy his cornerman. Here's a glance back at my always-upbeat classmate.

Jimmy's parents were active in the Baptist church, his dad, Paul Edward, worked at U. S. Potash Corportation. They later ran a repair shop for bicycles, and sometimes lawn mowers. His mom, Alyne Surritte Coleman (1921-2006), worked with the Red Cross, and was active in local civic groups. He had a brother, Paul Edward Jr.(25 Oct 1948- 25 Jun 2019), who, after a stint in the Army, became a licensed practical nurse. He also had a sister, Joy Annella Coleman Moore.

A few years before Jimmy died, his dad went into a nursing home in Arkansas, and Jimmy went home to Carlsbad to care for his mother. He suffered a fatal heart attack and is buried in the Carlsbad Cemetery.

I know these things only because I looked them up. I didn't know him well, but we were in Junior High band together. He liked the stage, in fact was always on stage, and sometimes appeared as a singer with school groups. Periodically, he suggested I play trumpet with him in a "combo," as little bands were called in those days. I'm sure he approached others with the idea. Since my brief musical stint left no residue of trumpet virtuosity, I always declined.

My many memories of Jimmy are dominated by two, my favorite and my last.

My favorite memory of Jimmy formed in 1956 when we were both ninth-graders in Eisenhower junior high, Carlsbad, New Mexico. A lunch-time celebration involved musical groups on the playground, and classmate Johnny Bill Davidson, saxophonist extraordinaire, led a group through several numbers. Jimmy took the stage with them to sing "Shake, Rattle and Roll."

It was a passably adequate performance, assisted by a marvelous, understated break by Johnny Bill. Jimmy's corpulent shaking to the rhythm of the song, it was the Elvis era, provoked what I took to be mock cheers from the girls crowding the bandstand. I was standing beside my friend Woody Smith, later Judge Woody Smith [See Here] in Albuquerque , who observed, "He's eating this cheering up. He thinks its real."

Many years later I happened to see a 1954 video of Big Joe Turner doing the same song, and recognized Jimmy's inspiration. I'm pretty sure he pictured himself as Big JT, moving skillfully, and lustily to the coolness of the scene. You can see nearby a TV screen capture of Turner's performance, which may have formed the self-image of many would-be rockers of the innocent 50s. Or, another nearby link will play the audio, as most of us would have heard it on the radio.

My last memory of actually seeing Jimmy came during our high school graduation night in 1960. The basic drill was to walk two-by-two from the Multipurpose Room onto the football field where folding chairs were arranged before a temporary dais. Our parents would watch from the home stands as we picked up our sheepskins. We were assigned partners, and we'd practiced marching out in a dignified, and decorous manner in keeping with the solemnity of the moment. "Pace and deportment," we were admonished.

On the grand night the Multipurpose Room disappeared into the fog of war. Deportment succumbed and pace hastened. We arrived on the football field in the order of our ejection out the back door. Whomever I was slotted to march beside, I've forgotten, disappeared at the ultimate moment, and I doubt I've ever seen them again.

Jimmy and I found each other deserted, at the end of the line, and we marched out together to get our hard-won diplomas.

A strident organ hallooed through the tinny PA, prompting Jimmy to observe, with his best irreverent cool, "Sounds like Bill Haley and the Comets." It’s my last clear memory of him.