Clifton Springs High School - Cliftonian Yearbook (Clifton Springs, NY)

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THE CLIFTONI AN EIGHTEEN Last Will and Testament We, the members of the Class of 1945 of Clifton Springs Central School, being of reasonably sound mind and body, do hereby establish and ordain this our last will and testament, with r.o mental reservations whatsoever, and do command it to be publicly proclaimed in order that our benefactions shall be known to our posterity and our worthy faculty. To Mr. Wolfe we leave Harm Parmerter’s latest invention, the handy little “Blizzard-wizard” which forecasts the amount of snow which will Fall during a given period of time and. to soothe his troubled nerves, a bottle of “Dr. Miles’ Nervine.” To the Class of 46 we leave a bushel and a half of the dignity and poise so characteristic of our class. To the Class of '47 we leave our uncanny ability to sleep through classes and still be honor students . . . (who said that?). To the Class of '48 we leave our extraordinary ambition and intelligence. To the Class of '49 w’e leave 9,999 paper airplanes to while away the long hours in study halls, assemblies, and basketball games. To Mrs. Rich, our esteemed advisor, we leave a vacation with pay at the “Happydale Insanitarium” in great appreciation of the whole year she tolerated us! To Miss Madden, our capable nurse and “truant officer,” we leave a ton of aspirin for the many headaches conveniently acquired by students during the day, expecially when assignments aren’t done. To Miss Clocksin we bequeath ourselves as specimens for use in her biology class—abnormal brain growth, you know! To Althea Smith we leave Jeanne Love’s collection of “sloppy joe” sweaters. To Doug Brown we leave a fourteen karat gold, diamond-studded comb and “Doc” Allen's priority on Elaine . . . aren’t we nice? To Margie Lush we leave Gene Cook’s ability to be seen and not heard and his masterful self-control. To the number one Romeo (that’s just a polite word for “wolf.” you know) of the Freshman Class, Bob Griswold, we leave Ernie Scott’s aloofness with the opposite sex. To Marion Smith we leave Peg Merscher’s boisterous nature and those rabbits she draws all over everything. To Esther Young we leave Verna Shekell’s alluring auburn tresses. . . . ahem!! To Jack Tripp we leave Olan Payne’s ability in math, so that he can get 99 44 100% in all algebra exams. To Ginny McCarrick we leave Jean Driscoll’s ability to hold a Shortsville man and that heirloom map of “Six Easier Ways To Get to Shortsville and Return, left to Jean and Pat in '44. To Louise Goodman we leave Shirley Reed’s place at the Wednesday night square dances . . . and those VERY handsome partners. To Eyvonne O’Coyne we leave Margie Siegwald’s straight pen with which she has written innumerable minutes and letters. To Robert Landschoot wre leave Harm’s commanding air and his fierceness as monitor. To Dick Vanderhoof we leave a special twelve inch record of “Air Mail Special” and an untiring partner to go with it. To Harriet Williams we leave Burr . . . need we say more?? To Dottie Bill we leave Janet’s vie” and an unending supply of Frank Sinatra records over which she may swoon to her heart’s delight. To Helen Morse we leave Theresa Lapresi’s excellent salesmanship and ability to get as many packages as possible into one grocery bag (paper shortage, remember?). To Rudy DeMarco we leave Jane Lindner’s excellence in tray-carrying at “Ye Olde Sanitariume. To Roger Gifford we leave Bill Mattoon’s efficiency as treasurer ... of everything! To Gert Lindner we leave Dot Lappan’s fondness for Phelps ... be careful, Ike! To Sparky Adams we leave Clifford Squier’s skill at the art of being late. Quite a gift! To Adele Power we leave Pat Macllroy’s well-known pincers movement” and the frequency with which she has applied it. Go to it. Adele! To Violet Roll we leave Pauline Young’s SLACKS. To Herbie Elkie we leave Ruth Hamburg's place at the Palace—or should we leave Ruth. Herbie?? To Mary Gilligan we leave June Lannon’s great big pocketbook in which she may carry her “beloved” trombone home to practice. To Florence Landuyt we leave Marge Gulvin’s place in as many of Miss Worden’s classes as possible. To Lois Lush we leave Mildred Tears’ sunny smile and disposition to go with it. To Suzie Roper we leave those parties Betsy used to have, but she’ll have to find her own manpower supply. We have a hard enough time as it is. To Miss Howard we leave an original, autographed copy of Joe Miller's Joke Book (copyright—1776) and two new retreads for her bicycle. To C. S. C. S. we leave a helicopter so that it will always have 100% attendance at the out-of-town basketball games; a flawless full length mirror to do away with that fun house” look in the girls' locker room; some new “no tug. no zoom, no fall down and go boom window shades to prevent MINOR ACCIDENTS among the faculty; a never-ending supply of ice cream (in all flavors); 1,001 gallons of chartreuse, fuschia. and tangerine paint to continue the stupendous job of redecoration, and 743.952.684 gross of tennis shoes that POSITIVELY will not leave black marks on the gym floor!! In witness whereof, we hereby affix our seal on this, the twenty-fifth day of June, nineteen hundred forty-five. Witnesses: SAD SACK. BUGS BUNNY, GRAVEL GERTIE.

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SEVENTEEN THE CLIFTONIAN CLASS DIAR V ’41-'42 When we first entered the third floor corridor of C. S. C. S. we were extra-“green and also strangers “on-account-of-because” wre were “centralized.” Due to the magnitude of our class we were bisected—half given to 'Miss O'Shea, the other half given to Miss Damon. However, just to be business-like we held elections and the results were: Bob Allen, President; Jean Driscoll, Vice-President; Shirley Reed, Secretary-treasurer; Lee Kutz and Mildred Tears, Student Council Representatives; Betsy Crawford, Shirley Reed, Lee Kutz. and Bob Parmerter. Intramural Managers. That’s the year everyone was singing, “I Don’t Want To Set the World on Fire” . . . “Clap, Clap, Clap—Deep in the Heart of Texas . . . “Pardon Me, Boy—Is This the Chattanooga Choo Choo?”. But one Sunday afternoon we were blasted out of our funny papers by a voice that said, “Pearl Harbor . . . Japs . . . Bombed . . . Casualties . . . and the next day we all went down and sat very scared while President Roosevelt asked for a declaration of war over the radio—still lacking the full realization of how it could affect our lives. But on the lighter side . . . remember how good the basketball team was that year? . . . riding on the bus to the games . . . winning the C League championship . . . and that time we went to Rochester to see “Macbeth —even though we didn’t have the faintest idea of the plot . . . and who could forget the freshman-sophomore party . . . and the rainy day “all class” picnic at Roseland . . . yeah, that was our freshman year!! ’42- ’43 We returned in the fall of ’42 with the feeling that we were a little more grown-up, anyway, at least we were sophomores and had the satisfaction of being the first class of C. S. C. S. to order class rings in the second year of high school (this was because of the shortages caused by the war). As usual we elected our officers for the year, and they were: Bob Allen, President; Jean Driscoll, Vice-President; Janet Call, Secretary; Shirley Reed, Treasurer; Jane Weeks and Bob Parmerter, Intramural Managers; Pat Macllroy and Marge Siegwald, Student Council Representatives. That year our basketball team was defeated by Gorham just before the semi-finals (remember how heartbroken we all were?) and ... we had “a honey” of a blizzard the night of the Junior Prom . . . the junior and senior classes lost some valuable masculine members to Uncle Sam . . . And we were all humming . . . Moonlight Becomes You” . . . That Old Black Magic Has Me in Its Spell” . . . “The Two o’clock Jump” . . . Letter writing and trying to de- cipher addresses became the most important feature of our leisure lives . . . and people were constantly reminding us— Don’t you know there’s a war on?” (as if we didn’t know) ... So ended our sophomore year. ’43-’44 As the autumn of ’43 crept silently upon us, we entered the stately portals of C. S. C. S.—upperclassmen. We were now under the guiding hand of Miss Mosey and our officers were: Bob Allen. President; Jean Driscoll, Vice-President; Shirley Reed, Secretary; Bill Mattoon, Treasurer; Verna Shekell and Ernest Scott. Intramural Managers; Janet Call and Clifford Squiers, Student Council Representatives . And the songs that kept running through our minds were . . . “Lay That Pistol Down. Babe—” . . . “It’s Love, Love. Love . . . “I’ll Get By—” Our Junior Play, “Sixteen in August,” will off be remembered by the adlibbing of “Gusty” and Cynthia” when “Mrs. Goodrich” almost lost her skirt and failed to return (by the way it was also a great financial success — money, money, money!) . . . And who could forget the “All Class Dance” when we made the enormous sum of $2.39 . . . When we went to graduation that year foremost in our minds was the thought that we’d be up there in ’45 . . . And so our junior year was over. ’44- ’45 And now we’re seniors. We have a new advisor, Mrs. Rich, and our officers are: Jean Driscoll. President; Doc Allen. Vice-President; Marge Siegwald, Secretary; Bill Mattoon, Treasurer; Verna Shekell and Harm Parmerter, Intermural Managers; Peg Merscher and Harm Parmerter, Student Council Representatives; Janet Call, President of Student Council. Our Senior Play, “Girl Shy, was presented in December and played to capacity houses. Those who attended both afternoon and evening performances, no doubt, noticed some slight change in the endings—due to conditions beyond our control. And thinking students were singing . . . One Meatball—” . . . Oh Give Me Lad, Lotsaland—” . . . “I’m Making Believe.” While we write this we are still making plans for the completion of our year as seniors ... a possible trip to Ithaca to be on the radio ... a Senior Ball, May 4th (maybe!) ... a class picnic . . . and then the big night, when with tears in our eyes we will clutch our diplomas and forever leave our dear old alma mater—snif, snif . . .

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NINETEEN THE CLIPTONIAN Us—Ten Years from Now... June 25, 1955, will be long remembered in the annals of society, for today we are gathered in the gigantic Foster Theatre to witness the premier of the motion picture triumph, ,,For Whom the Gong Resounds,” starring Scott Earnest and Tana Learner. The huge auditorium, which is one of a chain owned by the famous career woman, Ruth Hamburg, is filled to capacity with expectant fars and now the celebrities are arriving. Lights are flashing, helicopters are circling overhead, and cars are pulling up in front. The Hon. Senator William F. Mattoon. owner of Green Acres Farms” near Phelps, New York, will act as master of ceremonies. Senator Mattoon has just introduced a bill in Congress limiting the national school year to eleven weeks—not including the summer vacation. Stepping into the spotlight is M’lle. June Lannet, (nee June Lannon) the world-famous Metropolitan opera star, escorted by Clifford.” prominent New York florist. Miss Lannet will long be remembered for her role as Susanna in The Marriage of Figaro.” Now approaching the microphone is Robert Mur-gatroyd” Parmerter, renowned scientific poet, accompanied by his charming secretary, Mrs. Robert Kneut. You may remember her as our former classmate, Shirley Reed. Also in this party is the noted Dr. Olan Payne, P. D. Q., L. S. M. F. T., T. S. L., A. W. O. L. F. Dr Payne, you will remember, is author of that bestseller, How To Know ALL the Answers.” The glamorous Miss Learner is now entering the foyer. Even during school days we knew she would reach such heights. Yes, folks, Jeanne Love! With Miss Learner is the young Bohemian artist who helped her attain success, Gene Cook. Ah—and who is this ravishing beauty??? Why it’s none other than Janet Call, the celebrated concert pianist and composer of the Suphur Suite.” She is escorted by a very distinguished and very attentive Naval officer—name?—a military secret! The one and only “Windy” Winbum has just arrived. You have no doubt read about his winning the national auto cup last week at the Indianapolis Speedway. Accompanying Windy” is Marjorie Sieg-wald, secretary for the Olympic Games. Marge is now Mrs. Charles MacCumber. Entering now is the former Pat Macllroy, now one of the ten best-dressed women in the country. Her latest husband is the author of our production, Her-nest Emingway, but this evening she is escorted by that dashing young medic and man about town with the delightful bedside manner—Dr. Robert Allen. Emma. Alma. Thelma, Fatima, Asthma, and As-tigma. the world’s only sextuplets, have now entered with their mother. Mrs. Robert Mattoon of Phelps. Mrs. Mattoon was Miss Dorothy. Lappan. daughter of the Orleans Lappans. The crowd is pressing against the ropes and autograph books are being pushed toward the center aisle —Scott Earnest is now nearing the marquee, smiling, signing books for his admirers and looking very handsome, indeed. Here we have the much talked of Ration Sisters” —Mildred Tears, Verna Shekell, and Pauline Young— who introduced the ever-popular One Porkchop” which was number one on the Hit Parade for fifty-six weeks way back in 1946. This reet” trio has been booked in all of the most famous nightclubs of the country since their debut. Miss Theresa Lapresi, heiress to the Lapresi millions, and that glamorous hostess of the world-famous Clifton Springs Sanitarium. Jane Lindner, are now standing here beside me awaiting the opening curtain. Four chic matrons are now entering. They look very familiar—yet—Oh yes—we can see them plainly now and it’s the beloved and beautiful advisor of the class of '45. Mrs. George Rich. Jr. Attending with Mrs. Rich are her five sons. Stunning Mrs. Bruce Teemley is the next to step up to the microphone. Mrs. Teemley was Peg Mer-scher, our former classmate. Escorting Peg are her husband, manager of the large commercial airport in Watkins Glen, and her sons, Bruce and Ruse. We see a very glamorous blonde approaching—it’s none other than Jean Driscoll, now Mrs. Richard Turner, wife of the railroad magnate. Jean is famed for her gracious hospitality and her mansion on Booth street is one of the showplaces of the nation. The last of our celebrities has just arrived, Mrs Robert Jones. You will remember her as Betsy Crawford, the artist” of the senior class. They now reside in the large Redwood Forest in California where Bob is head of the Forestry Department. House lights dim, curtains part, and late-comers scurry to their seats. And now, in order not to miss the first scene, we will end our broadcast from the Foster Theatre. This is Clifton Springs signing off.