Greenport High School - Beachcomber Yearbook (Greenport, NY)

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(?leU6 Good morning, ladies and gentlemen this is Lowell Kaltenborn broadcasting the gala opening of the State Fair of 1961 in Flushing Meadows, N. Y. C. Everyone who is anyone is at this festive occasion. People are arriving in droves. I will endeavor to tell you about what is going on and who is here. I am now at the entrance waiting for the arrival of some of our famous celebrities. A cheer goes up in the crowd as Loverboy Tappert, the matinee idol, arrives in his cerise Cadillac convertible. But who is the lovely lady that he is so gallantly helping out of the car? On a closer look I recognize the gay divorcee, Marilyn Brown who is just back from Reno after her fourth marital adventure. Right in back of Ted s glamorous vehicle arrives a chauf- feur-driven Rolls Royce. The elegant lady stepping out is none other than Nancy Preston, one of Brooklyn s fore- most social leaders who is now chairman of the Women’s Maid Problem Committee. But we haven't time to tell you about all the celebrities that are arriving, for in the distance I hear the faint music of the band announcing the beginning of the day s festivities. Resplendent in royal blue uniforms with gold braid the band is now strutting by. I see by the program that the lovely drum majorette is Pat Downs, the U. S. twirling champ. As the band passes by, I see that that jazz player Bill Wells, leading the trombone section, appears to be the only one in step. The band has just halted before the reviewing stand where we will hear the opening day speeches. Geraldine Rackett, the first woman mayor of New York, steps forward to give the welcoming speech. As she starts to speak with the forceful tone for which she was so famous in high school — oops!! I see by my watch that I will have to run if I want to catch the results of the farm show. CRASH! BOOM! BANG! Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but I was just shoved into a pots and pans display by two pranking delegates from the League of Mischief-Lovers' Convention. The laughter in the background is coming from the two jokesters, Stumpy Bogashewicz and Lappy LaBad — at least those are the names that are lettered on their convention hats. Oh well, men will be children! All that noise you hear now is the cattle being led back to their pens after parading before the judges, A blue ribbon is now being handed to John Rempe, a prominent farmer, for his prize winning Equinox. That's the new cross-breed of a horse and an ox with which he’s been experimenting. But something has distracted the attention of the onlookers. A huge red and grey bus has just rolled in and it appears to be swarming with children. As the bus grinds to a halt, a harried young woman steps out. My assistant has just informed me that this is Mrs. Rosemary G. - - - , who very stoutly insists that the twenty-six kids are all her own (one for each letter of the alpha- bet) — some through adoption of course. I am anxious to see what the driver of this madhouse on wheels looks like. Well! Instead of the huge burly man that I had expected would have been needed to fill such a job, a quiet little man nonchalantly steps out and quickly walks away. Curiosity gets the better of me and a peek into the bus and onto the identification card tells me that his name is Joseph Shipman. All this exercise has reminded me of the time of day —lunch time. A neon sign advertising Peg s Patio catches my eye. As Peg Freeman is noted for her excellent food, I will turn the mike over to my assistant here and stop in for a bite to eat. Thank you, Lowell, I'll see you later. Hello ladies and gentlemen, this is Walter Hopper taking over for Lowell Kaltenborn. For those who have just tuned in, we are bringing you the opening day events at the State Fair. Over in a corner of the patio I see Virginia Unander who has just returned from Europe where she has been gath- ering material for her new novel on Continental gentlemen. She is with Alex Giorgi who is to be the illustrator of her next literary venture. I guess that you would like to hear a little about the side shows. Right in front of me now is a weight-lifter, who instead of using the weights as they were intended, appears rather amusing to the crowd by his tired, lazy att- itude as he sits with his feet propped up on the dumb-bells. Across his chest, uniquely tattooed is the name Smitty. The milling crowd has been steadily increasing, but one loudly dressed fellow seems to be attracting a great deal of attention. On pushing toward him, I see he is a vendor of some sort. The sign on his suitcase ad- vertises Cookie’s Portable Bed, the lazy man’s answer to waiting in long lines. Well, here is a worth-while stand — a kissing booth run by Marion King. The posters say that the proceeds will go to the Poor Pups and Scrawny Cats Society. Now, that's a worthy cause so excuse me while I collect a kiss. I see that Lowell is back and ready to resume the broadcasting.