Annie Wright School - Shield Yearbook (Tacoma, WA)

Page 23 text:

her bustles, huge puffed upper sleeves, long swishing taffeta skirts, countless trim- nnlngs of braids and buttons and puffs. There was the inevitable high backed tortoise-shelled connb, high tucked net and ruchinged collar, each to add even more to her already enormous height. Or was it that I was so wee and from my limited perspective she seemed to tower so far above me? Miss Fitch had a handsome brother of the old-school type who often called. Miss Lottie ' s beaux were the delight of us all. It was such fun for someone to have a beau and to be able to see him without special permission. It gave a dash of romance to our cloistered lives. Although in 1906 we were living many years after Godey ' s prints, because of the old-fashioned quaintness of Miss Fitch and her family, my impression today of twenty-five years ago is a pagaent-review of Godey plates, but with the faces of these good friends above the bustles and puffs of silk. There was Miss Raynor. a small, frail gentlewoman who had a cookie-jar in her room. She sat at the head of a table in the dining room, and taught Bible lessons. She was gently slipping on when I knew her, her snowy head bowing and her manner receding. She passed on before I was long at the Seminary. Those I remember with affection, who aided me through the maize of academics or helped to make the Seminary home to me were — Miss Guppy. Miss LeVegue, Miss Seeber, Miss Drake, Miss Williams. Miss LaVenture, Miss Taylor, Mrs. Welsh. Miss Findlay. Miss hiamilton and many others whose faces I now see but whose names have left me. Because we lived in the old building we had many nooks and crannies for explora- tion, feasts, and stow-aways (the latter for the purpose of cutting classes). I ' m quite sure no corner nor ledge of the old Seminary building or grounds was a secret to me. In the twelve years I was there I climbed every tree, every tower, every wood-pile to say nothing of Irncw ' na fhe a ' ch tectural details of pantry, ice box and store rooms. Speaking of store rooms, some who read this may remember one amusing prank I got into. We were always hunting food, like the Zulus of South Africa. We wore middies and bloomers for play. The only entry possible to us to the inner store room where the dill pickles, oranges, jams and such delicacies were kept was through the transom. Several of us plotted the attack, making sure to do it while cook and waitresses were out of the way. Empty barrels and boxes were arranged and I was hoisted over the transom. The door, of course, was under lock and key. What to do on the other side was quite a problem, but I scrambled down, using shelves for a ladder. My middy and bloomers stuffed full of pickles, oranges, crackers and such things, I climbed again to the transom. Not realizing the limita- tion of space in transoms I wondered what was happening, when as I squeezed through, orange and pickle juices oozed and crackers cracked. Needless to say our loot was ready for a damaged sale. But we were never discovered, as far as I remember. We loved having feasts. It was so hard to waken, though, in the middle of the night. I slept through many feasts simply because I didn ' t waken. My part already contributed, the others ' portions were thereby enlarged. Needless to say the culprits said they were sorry I didn ' t get there, but they didn ' t really try very hard to waken me. Page nineteen

Page 22 text:

6) time there was promise of a street car to Day Island which would provide transporta- tion for the day pupils, but as that did not materialize, the plan was abandoned and the property sold. In view of the increasing popularity of country day schools, we realize now that the difficulties regarding transportation could all have been over- come, and had we not been so easily discouraged, would have found ourselves in line with one of the more advanced educational trends of the day. The present site seemed to answer every purpose and to meet every objection: beautiful outlook, spacious grounds and a convenient situation. Plans were soon under way for the new building, and the Bishop looked eagerly forward to the ful- fillment of long deferred hopes. But like Moses of old. he was not to enter the Promised Land. The foundation was scarcely dug when he was called to lay down his staff and leave his unfinished task to others. Although the present Seminary stands as his monument, there was much sadness in the hearts of those who entered into the fruit of his labors that Autumn of 1924, for we missed there more than ever the genial and rich personality which had still seemed to linger in the halls of the old school, where for so long he had been its heart and soul. Here, we felt, in this new place, he does not live, and henceforth he can only dwell in our hearts where love has built for him a habitation which neither time nor circumstance can destroy. Emma L. Keator. March 12. 1931. REMINISCENCES OF TWELVE YEARS AT THE SEMINARY— 1906-1918 If Vernita should suddenly take wings and make a transplanetary flight, the world, of course, would immediately demand an autobiography. And this autobiography would include some twelve years of sketchy reminiscences of life at Annie Wright Seminary. Years for which she is, and never will cease to be, grateful. But as the probability of this ethereal flight is doubtful she is glad to be asked to set down some memories for the Seminary ' s first Annual, if for no other reason than that they are precious memories to her. Besides, when one reads so many fascinating present-day biographies and autobiographies it is great fun to look back through the dim corriders of receding years of childhood and youth to pick out a series of pictures that belong only to oneself. The first memory-picture of the Seminary is one of sitting in a carriage, turning the corner at Division Avenue and driving up to the Seminary entrance. This Avenue was a tangle of stumps, grasses and vines — not a paved cross-street in the center of the city, as it now is. You may remember Vernita was almost born, raised and married at the Seminary (with college, study i n New York and Europe inter- spersed). This first picture was registered in the thought of the child Vernita when she was five and a half years old. This was the beginning of her life at the Seminary. Miss Cora Fitch was the Principal, having a close governing second in her younger sister. Miss Lottie, who bustled about the office and had charge of the financial affairs of the Seminary. Some thought Miss Fitch austere and rigid. She was very tall, almost statuesque. She was an interesting type of fine Victorian womanhood. She even wore costumes to fit the part. She lives and v -alks in my memory as a grand old lady. I see Page eighteen

Page 24 text:

(9 ZJne f Sw-eta One feast was held in a bathroonn. Creaky footsteps were heard: we were sure a teacher was conning. Two or three of us were sitting in the tub when some one turned out the light; another turned on the cold faucet by mistake. Some smothered squeals and much scrambling followed, although whether we were caught and punished is swallowed up in memory. Field Days were always happy events, as were our days riding horseback out on the prairies of South Tacoma. Our first lawn fete to celebrate Field Day was very pretty, and each succeeding one grew prettier. The plays, the commence- ments, the planting of the class trees, the hiding, hunting and finding of the Spade caused great fun and excitement. Bishop Keator was almost like a second tatner to me. Since my mother had passed on when I was a year old many of the good people at the Seminary, faculty and classmates, seemed to want to make up to me what I lacked in this respect. Bishop and Mrs. Keator were always most loving and kind, even having me visH +henn on occasions. Fritz Keator, their son, was my principal playmate until I was ' Even now I can see Mrs. Keator standing erect, singing church solos in a lovely rich deep voice. Bishop had no voice to speak of. but at an occasional chapel he would stand, rocking back and forth on his two feet, robed in bishop ' s purple-and- white. singing his best but never in key or on the note. His crescendoes often came at our stops. To young girls at the susceptible age of giggling his singing was almost too much to bear. I believe I stayed in many Saturday afternoons because I had giggled at Bishop. (I should say with Bishop, because one couldn ' t laught at him — he was too dear and too solemn.) When spring came I stopped giggling because I wanted my Saturdays to go boating at Pt. Defiance, or violet-picking on the prairies. My art teachers of course meant much in my life. I see them and thank them, even though I cannot name them. As I have said. Miss Fitch seemed austere to many and I am told some marveled at the moral courage I expressed for a child so young; my devotion to her was great. To me she was always kind and loving, many times indulgent. An almost daily experience in my early years at the Seminary was in being allowed to paint water-colors sitting on the floor in her reception room. When my water glass was at its muddiest I ' d inevitably tip it over onto her prized Oriental rug. But to my remembrance she never punished me for it. Miss Fitch and Mrs. Keator introduced me to Europe by telling me of it. From them I learned of the beauty of the Passion Play at Oberamagau and the charm of foreign countries. As we all know. Miss Preston, who replaced Miss Fitch, did much to build up the Seminary, even building architecturally. Miss Fitch gave the Seminary quaintness. a boarding school atmosphere of Victorian flavor. Miss Preston brought efficiency, ability and foresight. The various honors given me at the Seminary, (among them the Key) I was always grateful for. They gave me assurance that I could find my place, could do my part, could be a good scout. If the child is father to the man I hope my life will prove to be a life of accomplishment, accomplishment of that which is good and constructive. One of the best things I learned in our sports at the Seminary was to be a good scout, to take defeat with a stiff upper lif. and victory as modestly as possible. That applies now in after life — applies more than the algebra and Latin. After all character building Is the important thing. Page twenty