Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

Page 13 text:

GLEANER ASSISTANTS Stanton Williams, Jane Dewell, Patricia McCaughey, Charlotte White, Marian Borden, Margery Churchill, William Hyde, Frances Kauffman, Robert Connell, Fred Scobey, Elizabeth Clark, Charles Pierson, Vyelaine Cunningham, Dorothy Cozens, Dorothy Heck, Patricia Bowman, Carolyn Don, Margaret Melhase, Marybelle Rocca, Dorothy Preston, Laurie Pilling, Jimmie Beall, Shirle Bass, George Agee, Evelyn Prochietto, Rosemary Ellis, Dorothy Aye, Bob White, Molly Moser, James Hull, Katherine Mead, Horace Pratt, Hinsdale Latour, Evelyn Haydon, Charles Potts, Bob Doane.

Page 12 text:

GLEANER STAFF FALL TERM 193 3 Editor-in-Chief — Nancy Miller Assistant Editors Literary — Howard Cook Art — Bill Brock Poetry — Betty Lou Howard Bus. Manager — Bert Bertolero Jokes — Edward De Lanoy Circidation — Payson Roseland Exchanges — Ernest Halmetoja EDITORIAL The whistle has sounded, and the anchor is being Hfted. The graduating class of 1933 is shortly to leave the harbor of Garfield where it has been moored for three short years. As we look back on the school which has given us so many happy and some sorrowful memories, we shall always remember it as our first stop in our plotted course of life. The many happy hours which we spent in activities and study will come to our minds long after our ship has arrived safely at other ports. Although there is a feeling of sadness at leaving, we know that the training and help which we have received has prepared us to face whatever conditions we may meet in the harbors to which we are destined. As the evening sun casts its shadow on the harbor of Garfield, we leave with con- fidence that it will rise in a more glorious dawn. Nancy Miller — The Editor.

Page 14 text:

To a Brook I Little brook a-jloiving, Over hill and dale, Under Spruce and Hemlock, Through a ivooded vale. Bubbling over pebbles, Miirin ' ring soft and loiv, Shim ' ring like a necklace In the twilight ' s soft ' ning glotv. II Little brooklet flouring. Sparkling to the sea. Busy, tiny river, Hoiv gay you seem to be. Llowing ever onivard, Onward through the night, Greeting luith a golden song The coming of the light. Elinor Skimmings High Eight. PEEPING AT NATURE It had been one of those glorious, sunny days that are plentiful in California. And now, as we look over the bay, we see the tall skyscrapers of San Francisco, glitter- ing like castles in the sun. We look toward the north- west through the Golden Gate, at the sparkling waters of the Pacific. The sun is just going down over the tinted purple hills, as we watch its shadows on the Pacific. The crimson clouds slowly darken and also become shadows in the sky. Our sight wanders to the moonlit ridges behind Ber- keley, where the trees, outlined against the sky, look like ghastly ghosts, and the clouds like galleons, with their sails to the wind. When we glance back over the quiet waters, the city is wrapped in sleep, with the moon a watchful guardian. Ted Dietrick, High Eight.