East Tennessee State University - Buccaneer Yearbook (Johnson City, TN)

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OLD HICKORY put away Senior dignity and how thoroughly they enjoyed the “April Fool hike.” Throughout the year we have had many new and trying experiences. Shall we ever forget our first day in the Practice School? Did ever children ask so many questions? We were expected to be at numerous places at the same time and answer a dozen questions in one breath. Would the seem¬ ingly endless period ever close? We felt relieved when we got our grades on teaching and realized that they brought up greater privileges and pleasures even if they did open the way for greater responsibilities. We have enjoyed our “Senior privileges” and have for the most part tried to make ourselves worthy of them; however, occasionally we have been forgetful of our rank and have lost them; but these few times have only helped us remember that we should set examples for the classes who look upon Seniors with awe and admiration. The graduating class now stands upon the threshold of the undiscovered field of life; we have been endowed with high ideals, and have been pre¬ sented with noble and upright standards. We go now where the voices call us to take up our duties in the world. We have had hardships and made many mistakes, without which life would mean failure. But while we have had troubles, these have been far outnumbered by the joys and pleasures ot our happy school days. It is with a feeling of pleasure and reluctance that we leave our “Alma Mater,” and we take a last lingering look upon scenes around which cluster so many pleasant memories. As we start upon our journey, we turn to pay a parting tribute of love and respect to our dear “Alma Mater” who has un¬ tiringly guided our steps in the paths of duty. NETTIE BUNCH. Page Twenty-Seven

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OLD HICKORY (Elass Itttatorg It was a calm, peaceful September day in 1917—a day radiant with the sunshine of hope and joyous promise, when we first got a glimpse of the East Tennessee State Normal. We had long looked forward to this eventful time when we should go away to school, and even the thoughts of leaving home made us sad for only a short time, as we were filled with excitement and wonder. However, it was with a feeling of awe that we entered the President’s office for the first time, after we had been through the strenuous ordeal of matriculating the one thing we had dreaded. After a few days we felt very much at home and entered upon our vari¬ ous duties with light hearts, eager to make the most of every day. We were naturally enthusiastic and asked many questions, but we were assured that if we were persevering and diligent we W ' ould reach the goal toward which we were striving, at the end of two years. We were socially inclined, and although it was a critical time in our lives, as our country had entered into the great strife which was taking place, we were sometimes able to drive away sad thoughts for awhile, and have the joyous times which are dear to the heart of every school gill and boy. Various changes took place during the year—the welcoming of this one, the parting with that one, and before the end of the year some of the boys of our class were in distant training camps. We were justly proud that some of our members could go out and meet the responsibilities of life so calmly, even before finishing the course here. Our first year, filled with work and pleasure, passed away rapidly, and the whole class was looking forward to the time when “Senior dignity” should be bestowed upon each of us. September, 1918, came and found us transformed into Seniors, who had put on a dignified air, and taken up the “dearly loved and longed-for respon- sibilities.” Many of the old class had not come back to share our joys and sorrows, but at this time, a number of older and more experienced persons some to whom the term, “dignified school-ma’am” could be applied—joined us. We were indeed fortunate to have them in our midst and we feel that we have been greatly helped by their influence. They were of course more set¬ tled than most of us, and we did not know just what to expect of them, but we took them to our hearts and rejoiced when we saw how gracefully they Page Twenty-six

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OLD HICKORY Class Jlmpltenj My back is slightly bent by the burdens of life and my hair is gray at the temples, but the romance is not yet dead in my heart. Yesterday brought the first bleak night of the season in its wake and a cheerful wood-fire glowed on the hearth, crackling merrily of the Tennessee hills from whence it came. Its voice awoke familiar echoes in my heart—memories of my girlhood and of my many gay comrades at the dear old Normal of East Tennessee, and I longed with all my heart to know how they had fared in the long journey of twenty years since they had so staunchly set forth from its sheltering portals. And I fell to dreaming of old times. Suddenly, the moon was shining brightly and I found myself in the small back yard of m ' y boarding house, not at all concerned over how I came to be there, as my whole attention was centered on a gray-clad little woman before me, whose wisps of gray hair were floating in the wind and who was preparing to mount a broom stick. I fell naturally into the words of the old rhyme: “Old woman, old woman, old woman,” quoth I, “Whither, O whither, O whither so high?” She looked at me pityingly and answered: “Why to sweep the cobwebs out of the sky,” and in a moment would have been among the treetops, but I clutched her with detaining hands. “It is All Saints ' Night and witches may speak to mortals. I pray you grant me a favor.” “What would you have?” “I long to know what fate has dealt to my classmates of T9. “It is worth almost any,” I answered. What price are you willing to pay for it?” she asked with a hollow laugh. “Bind yourself to do my bidding for a year and a day.” I assented without a thought of the consequences and in a moment I too rode upon the broomstick and we were in the heart of a thundercloud fren- ziedly riding the winds. Lights gleamed below and we alighted upon the streets of New York. I looked dazedly about. I was in front of Delmoni- co ' s and just then a splendid Pierce Arrow drove up and from its luxurious depths who should stand revealed to my eyes but little Edith Baxter of Nor¬ mal days, but now strangely altered. There was something in her manner that I could not define. And the cut of her wil lowy gown proclaimed itself Parisian. I followed her in, and “O Edith,” I cried. “Please don ' t call me Edith,” she said haughtily, “I am Pauline Barathe, the Columbian Vamp—the most famous in the world at present and only excelled by Cleopatra and Helen of Troy.” She coolly lighted a cigarette and introduced me to her companion, the Prince of Baden-Baden. “What are you doing here?” “Oh, I? Iam looking up the Seniors of T9 and must not linger longer. Can you tell me where I can find any of them?” “Oh, several have reached New York but—” My traveling companion beckoned me from out the gloom and I hurried away and down a side street into a quieter district and just in front I saw a Page Twenty-eight