Dazed, Confused, and Cold: Hanover Teens

By Alexander Harrison | Wednesday, January 20, 1999

I was in Lebanon District Court earlier this year to contest a parking violation, and so was slated to appear before the judge on the same day as a host of other semi-professional criminals.

There were interminable traffic tickets and 'Driving With a Suspended License' charges, a Dartmouth Economics Professor who was arrested for Possession of Marijuana while being stopped for Driving While Under the Influence, and one idiot who had been busted when he had emptied his pockets to go through the court's metal detector (he had been meeting with his court-appointed attorney to consult on another case) and pulled out a dime bag full of pot.

Most notable and numerous, though, were the scores of Hanover High kids who had been busted for 'Public Smoking.' (Yes, the Town of Hanover strictly enforces these codes).

What was remarkable was not their attitude (typical high school sullen-ness) or their responses (feigned chagrin) but their outifts: they were nearly uniformly clothed in the sort of thing that happens when hip-hop meets grunge at the thrift store: skate-boarder jeans that were belted somewhere south of their crotches and ballooned out at the ankles and were covered with all sorts of garish logos; dirty sweatshirts and T-shirts; mud encased, year old airwalks... and this was what they wore to court.

Hanover is a wealthy town, light years from the ghetto in fact, and the parents that brought their kids into court appeared rather genteel. The kids, however, looked lost. Without any real, vibrant culture to grasp on to in the Upper Valley they had taken their tips — in derivative form — directly from MTV. A weird culture, Hanover High.

I decided to do a little investigating.

Granted, Hanover's culture is dominated by Dartmouth College, but what about the mysterious underworld of Hanover High? Beneath the roaring preppy/outdoorsy image cultivated by Dartmouth students, there is a largely undervalued High School culture here in Hanover.

Determined to enter the bush and confront the beast, to seek out and examine the natives of Hanover's precollegiate population, I set off to the social epicenter of their world: the bench outside Dirt Cowboy Café.

Donning my hooded sweatshirt and sporting a pair of oversized jeans, I approached a small group, taking caution not to frighten them off.

To my luck, a youngster was sitting in repose on the bench, contemplatively smoking a cigarette. She bore all the cliché characteristics of a local Hanoverian. The short, greasy hair, glazed expression, skateboard under arm, and pound of metal on her face were all telltale signs that I had my first catch of the day.

'I'm a self-described proto-hippie, although I'm into ghetto rap also,' declared my new friend. She smoked her cigarette with serene defiance, as if she bore her small town life with an unredeemable sort of grudge rarely seen outside of old Johnny Cougar videos.

'Life in Hanover sucks, the city's where I'm at.' Rebel anger in a dry monotone — this was her mantra. Her attitude reflected the same sense of social insecurity that we would find prevalent in the other kids we spoke to.

Disgruntled by both their isolation from urban entertainment and chafing under the shadow of a college-run town, they were clearly grappling with clashing clichés to find an acceptably hip, social, fashionable niche for their mid teens.

Thankfully the next Hanoverians I talked to were a little less embittered.

Changing my vantage-point to the bench outside the Nugget, I sought a more refined perspective on Hanover High life.

These three self-proclaimed Bad-Asses, sporting black North Face down jackets and yellow warm up pants, epitomized the Dartmouth Wanna-Be look. Their alarmingly uniform appearances prompted me to ask them whether they were in a cult. 'No dude,' was the answer.

Once again, our specimens expressed unhappiness with life in Hanover, but were actually joyous to live under Dartmouth's shadow. 'Because otherwise,' explained their leader, 'we'd be like every other filthy hick town in New Hampshire.'

When describing Hanover High itself, they became quickly agitated. They found the school packed to the brim with 'hoodlums and thugs,' ironically sons of wealthy residents yet still underachieving punks.

I got the sense that these were rebels, unsure from what they were rebelling.

'Dartmouth's athletic facilities are good, but I'd never apply here. It's too close to home and it's just not my scene. The kids that live in Hanover and go to Dartmouth are line-crossers, turncoats!' informed the leader.

I asked him to describe his hobbies, interests and hangout spots. The response was unsurprisingly appropriate. 'Um, we like hockey and skateboarding and on weekends we drink!'

'Yes, and where do you hang out?' I asked.

'This bench,' was the alpha student's reply.

'So you like to drink beer on weekends?' I pressed.

'Yea, but it's so hard to get that around here, we end up smoking instead.' And he didn't mean cigarettes.

I spoke with a Hanover High graduate who matriculated at the College to learn more about the treachery of patronizing the very college despised by so many.

Brendan Endicott '02 explains, 'Hanover High, once one of the nation's top public institutions of learning, has recently been overrun by a swarm of physically-appalling, underachieving punks who mooch off their wealthy daddies and expect to do the same for the rest of their ill-fated lives.'

Moving on, I began to make some sense of the subcultural movement Dartmouth students offhandedly refer to as 'Hanover High'.

The scene comprises a curious assortment of neo-trendy movements racing across the country today. Hypocritical skater punks, ironically financing their rebellious image with dad's deep pockets, search for a unique image apart from Dartmouth's culture.

My thoughts drift back to the three identically dressed Hanoverians to whom I talked.

While initially their cult-like similarity disturbed me, the fact that the Gap has a monopoly on respectable teenage fashion in town secured my sympathy for their predicament. The worlds of Dartmouth preppyism and Hanover rebelliousness meet at the Gap, the fashion breeding ground of town.

The skater types I had seen in court, it turned out, were a small, racy minority of the tame North Country whole. The natural mood of the Hanoverians is preppy; skater/grunge/hip-hop was a poorly adopted pose.

As I returned to the safety of campus, doffing my safari garb sweatshirts in preference for the standard issue blue Oxford shirt, I was exhausted from my dealings with the natives. After over an hour of walking the beat of Main Street, I had truly become a multi-culturalist.

Dazed, Confused, and Cold: Hanover Teens

Article Tools

Related Articles