Shockey Roots

Donald C. Shockey was born March 28th, 1935, in his parents’ home in Pocahontas, Greenville Township, Pennsylvania, where eight generations of his descendants lived and farmed. He often told us how he was born and had to be placed in the oven at his family home, as incubators were not common in household births, especially in rural Somerset County. His parents, Ray and Nellie Baer Shockey survived the great depression selling gas and eggs to local residents and the nearby town of Frostburg, MD. He was the second of three children; Dorthy Jane (deceased), his older sister, and is survived by Richard Lee, his younger brother. His father Ray was the headmaster at Pocahontas school, a modest four-room schoolhouse. My father spent his early years playing in his sandbox and the Pinewoods behind his home. He recalled often the day his mother came to the back stoop crying out for her husband Ray who was working in his garage. “Ray, my god, Ray, the Japanese just bombed Pearl Harbor.” He recalled huddling around the tube radio and listening as news reporters accounted the details of the attack. By the time he was eight, he had found his country was at war. World War II would see many of his neighbors enlisting and going off to foreign lands to defend Freedom. He often talked about how the local railroad was a crucial supply line for the Baltimore ports, and one of his neighbors had to make the hourly walk across the Keystone Viaduct’s catwalk to inspect for possible bombs. Around age 12, my father began to work on his grandfather’s farm and later, uncle Bob Shockey’s farm off the Glade Road near the Greenville Lutheran Church, where he and his family attended. Some of his fondest memories came from working on the family farm, recalling many of these up until weeks before his passing. My dad attended the Pocahontas school up until 8th grade and, as a Freshman, attended Meyersdale Joint High School in Meyersdale, Pa., where he excelled in both sports and academics. He was a member of the Honor Court, National Honor Society, Co-Captain of the Football team, and Rifle Club, Sports Editor for the Hi-Point, was a member of the Monogram Club, Basketball, and Baseball teams. He was elected the class President and given the title Mr. MJHS by his classmates. However, his greatest high school achievement was hanging out at Vitale’s pool hall and waiting for what he referenced as a girl with a curvy figure, my mother, Roberta Simon Grove, to walk back to class. In those days, students left school and went up to the local GI Dayroom and Bowling, Roberson’s Restaurant, Donges Restaurant, Vitale’s Lounge and Pool Hall, or home to eat. There were no school cafeterias in 1953.
Living in the outlying rural areas often presented hardships for those students working the farms in the early dawn hours and then having to travel 9 miles to school. With only one bus to route students to and from school, athletics was often not an option for those students living outside of town, with the responsibilities of feeding and milking cows. His Uncle understood the importance of education and the extracurriculars and would allow him to borrow the car to get to and from school. When the car was not an option, hitching a ride or catching a slow-moving train to Warrens Mill was the only option, and still required a substantial 3-mile trek to the farm. Dad told me that one of his football coaches (Coach Hepner) took pity on him and some of his Pocahontas teammates and often would loan them his car to get home and back the next day. My dad had an exceptional high school career on the gridiron. It was on the field and in the classroom that my dad learned determination and diligence were indeed the “game-changers” for his life. Encouraged by his coach, Joe Dochinez, approached him with the idea of playing college football. Rural kids in southern Somerset County often never envisioned academics beyond high school. Coach Dochinez took my father to California University of Pennsylvania in the summer of 1953 to visit. From the Fall of 1953 to 1956, my father played under 2004 Cal U Hall of Fame inductee coach Ted Nemeth. When dad would recount his earliest days at “Cal U” he would often tear up and recall the day they were to make Freshman cuts. My dad, as a Freshman, was 5’9” tall and 160 lbs (bottom of the weight chart); very undersized compared to returning war veterans coming back from Korea on the GI Bill to play football and earn degrees at Cal U. Coach Ted Nemeth ran a brutal practice where, at running back, you had to take on a linebacker one-on-one in a “drill of will”. After several rounds of leather helmet, no facemask collisions, my dad staggered back to the huddle with blood pouring from his nose and mouth. Nemeth blew the whistle and looked fiercely at the other coaches and said, “You can cut anyone you want on this team, but you can’t cut Shockey.” My dad went on to be a two-way starter (running back and defensive back) for the next three years that included a game winning touchdown to end Shippensburg University’s (my Alma Mater) 20-game winning streak that ended on October 9th, 1954. My dad and mom continued to date through college, while my mother attended nursing training at Presbyterian Hospital in Pittsburgh. He graduated with a BSEd in Biology and General Science, the third in his family to earn a college degree at Cal U.
His first teaching assignment was at East Deer Frazier High School in Harmar Township (now Deer Lakes High School) in Pittsburgh. After one semester, he returned to his native Somerset County to teach at Salisbury Elklick High School in the 1957-58 school year, where he taught Science and coached Basketball. It was also at this time that he married my mother, Roberta Grove, in May of 1958.  
My dad often reflected on how one person (in his case, Coach Dochinez) can change a person’s life. He said he modeled his approach to teaching after Dochinez, seeing students as individuals and wanting success for them while requiring the discipline to see it through. Many former students would recall his tough exterior, but knew he was a fair man and respected him for being firm and holding them to a higher standard.
In 1957, he enlisted in the Pennsylvania National Guard, through which he served six months active duty and was in the reserves for more than five years. He returned to his Alma Mater, Meyersdale (now Area)High School in the Fall of 1959.  It is here where he began a 34-year teaching career. His first coaching assignment was to resurrect the JV football program that had been dropped for several years. A year later, he was offered an assistant varsity coaching position, a job which he held through my brother’s football career and my own. He was especially fond of the 1963 undefeated team and had lasting relationships with many of the players from that team. He was especially proud to have coached Charlie Banks, who held the Pennsylvania State scoring record for over 30 years and amassed 4,800 yards in just 24 games. During his career, he taught Biology, Physical Science, and Chemistry, but he was most known for his annual Leaf Project. In 1970, he received two National Science Foundation grants that allowed him to attend Arizona State and West Virginia University to further his education and earn a Master’s Degree in Biology. He would later hold the title of Athletic Director before retiring in 1993.
Returning home to teach had an undeniable impact on both him and his students. His favorite dinner table topics were his interactions with the kids on the field and in the classroom. A much-respected, tough-love educator, we couldn’t go anywhere without former students recounting a classroom experience. One of the things I learned to love about my father’s legacy.
He was a devout Christian who led Bible study and attended church regularly until his health no longer permitted him to attend. He was a member and one-time President of the Meyersdale Lions Club and was awarded the Melvin Jones Fellow Humanitarian Award.
His legacy continues to live through my brother Jeff, sister Kim, his seven grandchildren: Jaime Shockey Wainscott, Chelsea McLaughlin, Austin Shockey, Madison Duran, Carston Shockey, Landon Shockey, McKenna Shockey, and three great-grandchildren: Boone Wainscott, Amelia Wainscott, Noah Polonia, and Peyton Shockey.  
My father was a loving father, but he expected us to fall in line. He always told me his two greatest regrets when it came to me were not getting my eyes checked before starting Little League Baseball and the single time he beat my backside in front of my crying sister and mother. We enjoyed countless days building and tinkering in his shop, hunting, fishing, camping, and going to auctions. He was a dreamer-businessman, always looking for a way to make a quick buck. He left me to make mistakes, dream, explore, buy a few rust buckets, and leave home to find my own legacy. Much of my life is a recreation of his: teacher, coach, father of three, dreamer, maker, doer. There is a flood of details of my life and his that I could write about. The memories are what I have now to lean on, look to, and learn from. While I already miss him, I know that voice will come into my subconscious and guide me as I walk without him now.

Written by his son Rich Shockey; 17 Apr 2025