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Page 12 text:
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CLASS tiiscorcr MAK AffT HaNsetf 1)13 Looking Backward in 1933 THE GLITTER of reflected lights on the dark, wet pavements, the soft chug of limousines edging their way in toward the curb, the gay tap, tap of light feet, and the sound of happy voices among the crowd that thronged in through the open door-ways of the Palace Hotel hinted at the story. Something unusual was happening! The Nineteen Thirteen Class of Berkeley High ' s alumni had planned to meet again, and to outwit old Father Time for one night. For once, in the Gold Room, the hours sped by. The banquet was almost over, stories had been told, and memories awakened. From the farthest end of the ball room the sounds of music came stealing out from behind a screen of palms. All at once the lights faded, there was a hush, the room lay smothered in darkness. Then a glow of light illumined the lower end of the room, and everyone peered through the lifting curtains of dimness. The screen parted like a gate of flowers and through the banks of crimson and gold, a stage appeared. All was dark again: there was a low buzz, and the feature commenced. Once again some of the old class were facing the door of the High School building. It was the eighth of August, just twenty-four years before, and the June class of 1913 was entering High School. The picture faded, then there was the hall of the main building. Scores of timorous look- ing girls and boys were hurrying along the hall, following the crowd into the Assembly Hall. The pictures danced before the eyes of the old class and they saw themselves moving again through the first day. with the puzzling schedules, the problems — which stairs led to the girls ' locker- room, which to the bovs ' . 10
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Page 13 text:
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Then, in a flash, the scene changed. It was the afternoon of the first class meeting, at three o ' clock, in the old assembly hall. Scared faces were beginning to take on a more confident expression. The nominations were made amid smiles and laughter, and finally, the embarrassed figure of the scrub president stood before them, on the screen. Xo doubt the man sitting at the far end of the banquet table was living over again the agonizing moments in which he had made that first speech ! So the history darted along, — the day of the Junior tug ride, the first one that had ever been given at Berkeley High. What fun it was. The wild joy of cruising on the bay in the brisk sea air, picture after picture of the sportive little Monticello sailing into the cove at El Campo, with its merry crew. The beauty of the bay by moonlight ! It was good to live it all over ! The class heroes flashed on the screen, glimpses of familiar figures on the track oval, on the football field, on the baseball diamond, a fleeting glimpse of the bleachers just before the Berkeley-Oakland game — then— when the first touch down had been made. Again, they were at the Middler dance, in Unity Hall ! What a lark it was, that country party, when the cozy little hall was changed for one night into an old-fashioned living-room where a barrel of cider took the place of a formal punch-bowl, and ruddy apples served for favors. It was a long story told over again. The fun of the reception to the high seniors, at Town and Gown Hall, where the upper classmen were entertained amid banks of golden flowers, while garlands of tiny Japanese lanterns shed a soft light over the laughing groups. And at last, the triumph when the class were seniors, two hundred of them. Picture after picture flitted merrily before their eyes. The story of class day and the night of the Senior Play. The wonder of the brilliant ball at the Shattuck Hotel when it seemed as though the fairies had taken possession of its halls, and finally, the night of graduation; the faces all showed plainly from behind the open gates of red and gold, the moment in which each one received his diploma and said good-bye to Berkeley High. There was a moment of deep quiet, the lights, at the farthest end of the hall died out, and they were back again, all together, twenty years older in the Gold Room at the Palace Hotel, with a mystic atmosphere of the past, lingering in the midst of the merry gathering. When the stars began to grow pale in the sky outside, and the merry-making came to an end, the spirit hovered near each one as he departed, — the Spirit of the June Class of Nineteen Thirteen ! , DORIS E. McENTYRE. ' 13. 1 1
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