11/08/2025
The Skatehaven Murders – Part 9 “Jeffrey and Jerome Vincent Berard”
It was a beautiful day in the late 1970s, when the air itself seemed to hum with music and possibility. Around Montgomery, kids tuned in to the latest hits on the radio, their laughter spilling into the streets as they made plans for the movies, some heading to the cinema house, others waiting for dusk to fall so they could pile into cars for a night at the drive-in. They played ball in the parks, battled pinball machines, watched their favorite shows flicker across TV screens, wandered through the malls, and thumbed through rows of vinyl at the record stores.
In 1977, the movie houses of Montgomery shimmered with excitement. The city’s moviegoers were still spellbound by a new kind of spectacle, a space fantasy that had forever changed the way people dreamed. Star Wars had landed, and its magic lingered in every toy aisle and under every Christmas tree. That holiday season, action figures of Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader became the treasures of Montgomery’s youth, their tiny plastic lightsabers igniting the imaginations of a generation.
Amid this fevered excitement, a young WHHY DJ named Jim McDade decided to capture a piece of that wonder. One evening, he drove to the Fairview Drive-In, the very spot where, today, Phillips Riley Funeral Home stands, armed with nothing more than his new tape recorder and a sense of adventure. As the movie unfurled against the night sky, McDade pressed record, letting the drive-in speakers fill his tape with the sound of destiny, a galaxy far, far away preserved in magnetic hiss.
By 1978, the glow of Star Wars was still burning bright in Montgomery. Kids who once waved toy lightsabers now turned their eyes skyward again, ready to believe that a man of steel could fly. When Superman, starring Christopher Reeve, arrived on the silver screen, it wasn’t just another movie it was another chapter in the age of wonder.
In those days, family Sunday dinners after church were more than a meal, they were an event, a standing reunion that happened every week. Cousins played in the yard while parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles filled kitchens and dining rooms with conversation and the smell of comfort. Most of those Alabama grandparents had weathered the Great Depression down in the South, and their cooking carried the memory of endurance and love: golden fried chicken, smoky barbecue, collard greens simmered just right, and cornbread crisped at the edges. The food was heaven, pure and simple Southern Delicacies!
It was, in so many ways, a glorious time in Montgomery’s history, when family gatherings, holiday traditions, and even going “out to eat” at one of the city’s beloved restaurants felt like cause for celebration. Some of you reading this will remember those days, those names, those tastes. Montgomery, how many of y’all remember that ice cream machine and chocolate pudding at Western Sizzlin!?
Jeffrey Dale Smith was spending time with his parents at their home at 536 Avondale Road. Jeffrey was a student at Goodwyn Junior High, a good-hearted kid who loved his parents, loved fishing, and loved spending weekends at Skatehaven, the coolest place in Montgomery for teens.
His father, J.D. Smith, worked as a mail carrier at the Eastbrook branch post office. One of J.D.’s friends, James Ivey, also a mail carrier and the Smiths’ next-door neighbor, was what Jeffrey’s parents fondly called “Jeffrey’s #1 Fishing Buddy.” The two were inseparable when it came to fishing. Jeffrey was especially excited about an upcoming deep-sea fishing trip to Destin, planned for May 28, 1978. He had been counting the days. Jeffrey was everything a Montgomery teen in the ’70s aimed to be, friendly, easygoing, and effortlessly cool.
That afternoon, Jeffrey and his mother, Jean Smith, heard the front doorbell chime. Back then, before the internet and social media, an unexpected visitor was something to get excited about. We called it “having company.” Jean smiled as Jeffrey darted toward the front of the house to answer. “Hey, Jerome! Come in!” he greeted.
Through the front door stepped Jerome Vincent Berard, a familiar face and friend, holding a pair of roller skates in his hands. The boys headed straight back to Jeffrey’s room. Jerome had asked for help fixing his skates, and Jeffrey, who knew his way around them thanks to countless nights spent at Skatehaven, was more than happy to help. Jean lingered in the doorway, watching her son work and the easy way he laughed with his friend.
Jerome lived just a short walk away at 3919 Fairfield Drive, barely two minutes from Jeffrey’s home. As they worked on the skates, Jeffrey noticed how interested Jerome seemed in the world of skating. That’s when he had an idea.
“Hey, Jerome,” he said, “why don’t I ask Mr. Nick Stratas, you know, the owner of Skatehaven, about getting you a job at the rink?”
Jerome agreed. The next time Jeffrey went to Skatehaven, he approached Mr. Nick himself. Jeffrey admired the man, respected him, and was determined to help his friend. After a bit of persistence, Mr. Nick finally agreed to hire Jerome.
Mr. Nick already knew of Jerome, he had seen him around the rink before, both hanging out and skating as a member of the Speed Skating Club.
To be continued
