Convent of Mercy Academy - Annual Yearbook (Mobile, AL)

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F ENG'-Yvinpm W fl- is-'31 :---. -ru. X--4.111 ' fy- - .- ..-...- - ignewngvq-4.1731-Ei: se. , T .,d5..:,rgu,?-sm Fav 1: smile upon the faces of these two girls is an indication of the pleasure and satis- faction they derive from acting as Angels of Mercy . A soft gleam of light falls upon a small dark haired girl, and makes her the center of attraction. I hear music, and Cecilia McBride lifts her voice in song. When she is finished, she is rewarded by thunderous applause. As Cecilia bows and walks off thet stage, she turns and grins in that impish manner, so familiar to all her c assma es. Hold it, that's fine, I heard a familiar voice say, and now, shall we have another one? Can that be Angeline Santos, camera enthusiast of our school days? As she takes the hand of a little girl, the subject of the picture, and leads her to the door, I recognize Mary Oberkirch as the child's mother. As Mary talk's to Ange- line, her pride in her lovely little girl is evidenced by the happy tone of her voice. As Mary leaves the studio, another familiar face greets me. I recognize Marie Walpole, who has come to have a number of publicity photographs taken. She and Angeline chat during the sittings and I learn that Marie has become quite famous. This is not surprising, for preseverance toward her goal was a quality easily recog- nized in this classmate. As Marie slowly fades from sight, the vision gives way to another picture: that of a small girl who is sitting at a desk. A small plate upon the desk tells me that this is Elodie McGowan, personell manager in a large department store. The valu- able experience gained as Advertising Manager of the Mercian proved to be helpful in gaining this high position for Elodie. As I catch one last glimpse of Elodie, the picture fades into oblivion, and another takes its place. In this one, I see my childhood friend, Rubie Langley. Rubie is dressed in riding clothes and is leading a beautiful chestnut mare across a stretch of green to its stable. As she reaches the stable, Rubie turns to stroke the mane of the animal, and smiles, and in this smile can be read the happiness and content- ment of a person who so rightly deserves life's best. As the vision of Rubie vanishes, I see Eloise Killion, wearing garden hat and gloves, and standing in the midst of a profusion of flowers. As she gathers an armful of blossoms, Eloise walks through the gate of a white pick'et-fence, toward a lovely little bungalow. She pauses at the steps and stoops to touch the curly head of a pretty blonde child. The little child, a perfect replica of her mother, skips gaily be- hind her mother into the house, and both disappear. As the last of my classmates fade from view, I think how lovely it would be, were they all united. What jolly times we could have, discussing our various pro- fessions, and, sharing confidences, and then I realize that I have not yet seen my future in the glass. It seems that time alone will reveal my future to m-e. I shall be content to wait for the fulfillment of my hopes and ambitions and shall endeavor to perform each task conscientiously and ask for strength and courage to faithfully uphold the ideals rooted within me by my training at Mercy. BARBARA FROMMEL '44

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Cflass Praplzecy Can this be a dream, I thought, for before my eyes stood a giant hour-glass, in which minute grains of sand were constantly flowing. I ventured closer, and a strange, almost unbelievable sight arrested my attention. Slowly the tiny particles of sand gave way to a radiant light, and the strains of Auld Lang Sync sounded softly in the distance. This was the Class of 1944 , and the graduation cere- monies were coming to an end. As the picture slowly faded luminous letters 1954 , appeared. What can this mean? Am I to catch a glimpse of my classmates, as they would be, ten years hence? Yes, that was to be my privilege. The light dimmed and slowly there appeared a lovely girl, standing before a large group of musicians, who were playing softly. The girl is Mary Frances Clements, whose musical ability and earnest desire for achievement in the world of music, has brought her fame. As the conductor guided the melodious tones of the orchestra, there appeared a pretty, dark-haired girl, surrounded by a group of small children in costcme. Instantly, I recognized Anna Mary Aubey, whose love for danc- ing, at which she excelled, has prompted her to share her talent by teaching others. There is a delighted smile on Anna Mary's face as she watches her pupils, for she has realized a fond hope and ambition, at last. Oh, what lovely children! Could the lovely ladies who are following at a distance, be their mothers? The picture becomes clearer, and Ann Farnell and Roberta Constantine smile out at me. I don't wonder at their happy expressions, for one can plainly see the virtue of motherhood mirrored in the countenances of these two loyal friends. The scene changes, and a lovely girl descends a winding staircase. A group of people look on with interest, and applaud as the model pauses at the foot of the stairs. This tall and stately girl is Connie Andrews, whose poise and beauty have won for her a high position on the ladder of success. The massive silver wings of a large passenger plane make impressive shadows on the ground below. As the plane descends to earth and finally comes to a stop, many passengers are seen alighting. Two girls appear in the door-way, and instantly, I experience a sensation of recognition. My two school friends, Mary Helen Perez, and Estelle Hyde, returning from South America, where they have been doing journalistic work, smile at me, and continue on their way. Soon the passengers all seem to have departed, and the pilot appears at the door of the plane. He steps down and turns to assist a girl dressed in the uniform of an Airline Hostess. Aurelia Watson , I exclaimed, and the trim figure lifted a hand in greeting, and was gone. That yard, 4 the basketball court, - it all seems so familiarl , I exclaimed. And rightly so, because it was our own school yard, in which I had experienced so many happy hours. I hear voices, Agnes, did I make a foul shot, and Am I a guard Agnes, or a forward? Of course, - Agnes Ellis, teaching other little Mer- cians her beloved sport, basketball. Was that the school bell ringing? A pleasant faced nun comes toward the group of children. I can see at once that she claims the love and esteem of each one of the pupils, by the tone of their affectionate greeting. Yes, God has chosen Faye Yeager as one of his own. Dear Faye, who was always ready to come to the aid of one of her fellow students, now lavishes the same kindness and generosity upon her pupils at Mercy. As the students climb the stairs to their classes, the picture fades away. Who are those girls, chattering away, over that fashion magazine? As one lifts her auburn head for a moment, I recognize Margaret Gideon. She is speaking to Ann Girod, with whom she owns a fashionable dress shop, about a new collection of illustrations by June Cahall, noted designer. It seems only natural that the work of these friends should be so closely co-ordinated. As Ann closes the book', the three girls smile, and are gone. Goodness, the Providence Hospital! Are some of my classmates ill- I wonder what I shall find here. And, almost at that instant,my curiosity is satisfied, for I see Josephine Anania standing at a desk, speaking to a small, brown-haired girl who is also in uniform. Isn't that Bettye Calametti? Of course! My two classmates have wisely chosen nursing as their profession, for Bettye is now Super- visor of Nurses, and Josephine is in charge of Nurseries. I am sure that the happy

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T . -F. .-,,. . -. Y A --f- .,,,.,-w,- I -f,.- .I - , V- ..-.- , ,Y ,K -A , -,- ur::.'vI?rf!'??' W, ' . 3-F w i -Aufruww-s vu-:I sxrvv afrxv-uvvv Q 152' 5 vlipqi J -F N 5 . jr , 1 K L, X, . 611155 Will We, the Class of '44 of the Convent of Mercy, City of Mobile, State of Alabama, publish this, our last will and testament. To the following we bequeath: To Sister Mary Bernadette, our devoted principal and friend, our sincerest love for her efforts and untiring patience in making us Mercy girls. To the Faculty, our everlasting gratitude for their guidance and splendid example. To the Class of '45 the title of dignified Seniors and the hope that their Senior year will be as happy as ours. We further bequeath: Josie Anania's sweet disposition to Lorena Woolsey Connie Andrew's gracefulness to Nita Kingston Anna Mary Aubey's love of dancing to Ethel Mae Mead June Cahall's unceasing chatter to Dottie McCarron Betty Calametti's poise to Rose Marie Sheehan Bert Constantine's love of red hair to Geneva Hall Mary Frances Clements musical ability to Mary Margaret Altice Agnes Ellis' athletic ability to Beverly Carney Ann Farnell's big blue eyes to Gloria Thompson Barbara Frommel's intelligence to June Murphree Margaret Gideon's calmness to Ann Hardin Estelle Hyde's cute giggle to Cecilia Gerald Eloise Killion's 'ever present curls to Louise Diemert Rubimae Langley's independence to Jeanne Arceneaux Cecilia McBride's mischievousniess to Mercedes Neely Elodie McGowan's love of acting to Mary Vivian Walstrom Mary Oberkirch's southern drawl to June Galle Mary Helen Perez's sense of humor to Elizabeth Engwall Angeline Santos's quiet ways to Eleanor Birkel Marie Walpole's nonchalance to Miriam Turner Aurelia Watson's speed to Helen McBride Faye Yeager's ambition to Mildred Washichek Ann Girod's blonde tresses to Marion Smith Ann Girod '44.