Howe Military (315) Built 1930
July 3, 2025
July 3, 2025
I'm not sure there's any kind of experience quite like junior high basketball. There is no more immature age of human beings than 13-14 year olds. I've always said there is not enough money in the world that you could pay me to teach those ages. I think the same applies to coaching. You have a group of 10-12 guys who all probably think they're the best, but none of them truly take the nuances of the game seriously yet. I have vivid memories of sitting in locker rooms in 7th and 8th grade and everyone trying to get calmed down from laughing at a most-likely inappropriate joke before our coach came in, probably to yell at us (our 8th grade coach really liked to yell at us). While my junior high teams were pretty juvenile in attitude, we were still pretty decent on the court. What we lacked in maturity, we made up for in effort. We won most of our games, many of them by a wide margin. The one blowout that sticks in my mind the most came in 7th grade during the vaunted Land of Lakes Conference Tourney. Our opening opponent was none other than the school that was geographically closest to my house growing up: Howe Military.
Howe Military was a school that first fielded an IHSAA basketball team in 1943. I have suspicions that the school (which was founded in 1884) had basketball earlier than that considering the gym in question here was built in 1930. They must not have been a part of the state tournament back then. Howe was a military boarding school that operated until 2019, though it stopped competing in the state tournament in 2014 due to declining enrollment (there are a few other gaps throughout their history where this was also the case). During that time they brought home two sectional titles in 1948 and 1959. By the time my 7th grade squad rolled through their doors around 2008, the school and basketball program were on their last legs. We were only playing them because for whatever reason they were still in our junior high conference. I'll never forget walking up to the grand old building (which is just gorgeous on the exterior) and knowing I was in for an atypical experience. Once we came inside, we took a right and headed down some of the most dingy stairs you will ever see to some locker rooms that sat beneath the gym. On the way down the stairs, there was another door labeled "Armory." The locker rooms themselves may as well have been labeled "Dungeon." Again, I knew this was not going to be a normal game. When the action on the court got started, we quickly took control. Howe's teams were made up of players literally from all over the world, many who had probably played less basketball than we had by the time we were in elementary school. I specifically remember that they had a guy who was listed at 6'10." The poor guy didn't start and didn't seem too happy to be out there at all. At halftime, we were up probably 30 points. My coach decided to roll out the normal starting lineup to begin the second half, but he wanted to flip all the positions. This meant that I went from playing center to point guard. Needless to say, I was thrilled. I never got to handle the ball (for very good reason). The first play I walked it up, saw they were sitting in a soft zone, and confidently bricked a three. I got chastised and was pulled soon after. All of this is a core memory for me. I never forgot the old gym with the Hoosiers-style bleachers, though I definitely didn't appreciate its complicated nature at the time.
When I started this blog two years ago, this was the one return visit I thought I'd never make. After the school closed in 2019, it changed hands one or twice, and ended up in the possession of a "university." I put that in quotations as no one that I know has ever seen a single student on the grounds. The landscaping has always been taken care of, and there is a new sign out front, but that's it. While for years rumors have swirled about what may actually be happening there (a money laundering front seemed to be the most consistent suggestion), I didn't think I'd ever get inside again. How do you contact people who don't seem to exist? Earlier this spring, I was told that there is usually at least one person in the "main office," and that at least gave me hope. Over the 4th of July holiday, I figured I would overcome all my introverted tendencies and just march in there and ask if I could check out the gym. While the gentleman I talked to seemed genuinely shocked that anyone would be visiting, and very confused why someone would be interested in an old gym, he was kind enough to unlock it for me. I was in. All the memories of that game and the one possession where I got to pretend I was Steve Nash came flooding back. What I realized for the first time though was just how unique it is.
As I mentioned earlier, there are old Knightstown-style bleachers along both sidelines that sit up behind a five foot wall. The brick (or stone? I'm not really sure) that is used here and halfway up the baseline walls is the wider and pale-colored kind you don't see too many places. It reminds me of what our milking parlor back on the home farm is made out of. Halfway up those sideline walls, there are grey bands painted with maroonish-brown trim (in true military fashion, Howe has the most depressing color scheme in the history of Indiana high school sports). On the side that seats the scorer's table, "Howe Military" is written in big white block letters right underneath that scorer's table. The bleachers are reached by short sections of stairs in all four corners of the gym. The seats go up just four rows and are painted a dark red that doesn't match the maroon used in the rest of the gym. The wall sits up a bit above the bottom row of bleachers, so fans in that first row have a sort of table top sitting right in front of them. There are little grey steps that climb up the short sections of seats. Running along the upper sideline walls are big square windows that illuminate an otherwise dreary place. Between them are ancient radiators of some sort. Underneath them is a small section of maroon siding that connects the windows to the tops of the bleachers. It is certainly an interesting aesthetic decision choice.
The baseline ends of the gym are a little more simple. The pale brick rises up about halfway on each wall, while the top half looks like just normal white drywall or plaster. Both sides have modern looking mats to protect driving players from smashing into the brick that sits just inches behind the baseline. The side by the main entrance has two little wooden doors high above that presumably lead to an upper room behind them (I would've loved to explore more of the attached rooms around the gym, but I already felt like I was pressing my luck). The opposite baseline wall has a door marked "Concessions" (I wonder if they only offered K-rations?). One of my favorite random features of the gym also hangs on this wall: a lone LLC title display honoring the the 95-96 boys golf champions! The hardwood court is stained a dark golden color that feels like it almost has tinges of more maroon, but that may just be the rest of the gym reflecting off of it. A simple pale yellow "H" sits inside the half-court circle. Other than the makeshift but sturdy press box that sits at the top of the stands opposite of the scorer's table, I think we've covered everything.
I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I know a lot about Howe's history and traditions. I know that many of the alumni are very proud of the school and the impact it had on their lives. I also got to know some Howe students during my time in the LaGrange County Community Foundation philanthropic youth organization (I was super cool in high school if you couldn't tell). Many of them seemed pretty miserable during their time there and told me some stories I won't repeat here. The gym kind of mirrors the overall sentiment I've felt towards the school over the years. It's beautiful on the outside, truly regal. It holds a history inside of it that is completely unique. No other gym has hosted a program or game night experience quite like it (go read the excerpt about it in Dale Lawrence's Hoosier Hysteria Road Book, it cracks me up). Yet there is a shroud that hangs over it. It may just be the dismal color scheme, but it feels like something deeper. While it's similar to Knightstown, Spiceland, and others from that era, there's a difference. Those places have an energy to them. There is a darkness here, and I can't quite put my finger on it. Objectively, it's a pretty cool old gym. Subjectively, I'm really glad I got to go back to check it off the list, and I'll be fine if I never step foot in it again.
