Hartford Public High School - Classbook Yearbook (Hartford, CT)

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THE CHRONICLE 267 less. The surgeon makes an opening in the skull of the bone-head and produces the desired convolutions in the brain passages. After the once unfortunate has recovered from the operation-oh, lucky man-he has a complete education without the trouble of an hour's study. Believe it or not, as you like, but recently I underwent such an operation. VVhile under the influence of the ether, I had a most peculiar dream. Ye gods! There, in all its ravishing magnificence, lay the famil- iar outlook of Spruce Street. To crown its beauty, the temporary wooden station, erected ten years before, stood in shining splendor. Questioning Isabel Barry and Clara Grannis, who were passing by, as to this phenomenon, they informed me that the world-famed architect, Abraham Levin, had already designed a new station which was to be built of Helen Bryant's synthetic stone, but that Claffey was contractor for the work, which explained the fact that it was not yet begun. They also said that Leslie Tracy had been appointed commander of the Hartfordian fleet on the Park River and that Captain Leslie Hill had gone upstream in his motor boat, but had evidently gotten seriously in- volved in trying to work out his position by High School trigonometry as he had not since been heard from. My informants advised me to take lunch at the Hardluck Summer Resort run by Pallotti and Weg- man on the shore of this well-known watercourse. Suddenly my eye caught sight of the glaring poster, l924. The World's Fair in Hart- ford. Don't miss it if you are a Miss, a Mrs., or a Mister I Wonder- ing why I had not seen it before, the reason was apparent as Dot NValker was disappearing in the distance. Her brilliancy had blinded me. In haste to reach the Fair grounds, I boarded a cycle car whose Cyclonic virtues were soon displayed. Edwin Andrews was the reck- less driver of this flying machine and during the minute that I was in the car he told me that Corning Fountain needed another deer so Emily Cole had consented to take the place. Marjorie Lorentz and Mildred Lewis, who had always been enlightening, had been employed on a permanent contract to furnish the city with light. Elizabeth Rudolph and Esther Aronofsky had gone on a flying trip to Venus. .Ioe Foley was our latest Minister of Foreign Affairs to Podunk, and, most important information of all, that Mary Garrett had just opened a new studio in her attic. Soon the Fair grounds loomed in sight. The first obstruction 41

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266 I THE CHRONICLE tcm. Yet perhaps those unfortunates who had to count and recount and count again the thousands of votes think we were anything but fair. But we have come to the last scene. Do you recognize it? For the benefit of the ignorant few, I will say it is Bond's Hotel. Well do we remember the first annual banquet given by the High School Club, formed through our influence, to promote clean speech, clean living, clean athletics. But watch! Did you see all of those boys pick up the legs of spring chicken and eat, yes, right off the bone? The lights went off then, just for a minute, you know, but as true Yankees they took advantage of the opportunity. Alas, the reel is ended. The last scene of our High School life has passed. Only the future lies before us. VVe have zealously labored to depict our deeds upon this screen, which even now some of you probably consider an hallucination. With remarkable veracity we have shown you our mistakes as well as our successes. Knowing this to be a strictly truthful account, for a camera does not falsify, you will unquestionably believe this stupen- dous array of facts. Indeed, this photo-drama has increased beyond all bounds the pride, the fondness we have hitherto felt toward the indestructible unity of our members. VVhat you have seen this after- noon is the story of our four short years in this school, and what you have seen will fully convince you that history is still being made in Hartford. You must agree, we feel sure, that future historians will be unable to record our achievements. Incapacitated by our lack of prophetic blood, however, we shall not attempt to picture our inevi- table glorious future. Instead, we shall leave that pleasant task to our more fortunate colleagues, whose foresight will enable you to see be- yond the veil which now blinds. CDLGA L. SwENsoN, M.xRsILxI.I. O. LANPIIEAR. THE PROPHECY s OU may have heard of the newest method of securing an edu- cation. It consists of a skillful surgical operation. This ' method has long had a certain limited application, but it has now been placed within the reach of all who without it would be hope-

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268 THE CHRONICLE which blocked my way was a high Hill whom I recognized as Harold. He haughtily demanded ten dollars of me, which he said was the ad- mission fee. His demands were withstood for some time until the resonant voice of Bill Reiner reached my ears, Don't fail to see Valente, the bearded lady l Pressing twenty-tive cents into Harold's hand and telling him to keep the change, I, together with Jane Gold- berg, rushed headlong through the gate. A familiar voice! Straight ahead stood Meyer Gurian by turns arguing, threatening, pleading, and encouraging a crowd of people among whom were Georgia Davis, Elsie' Hansen, George Halle, and julia O'Brien, to visit the village of the Ignorantes. An awful noise, later discovered to be caused by Max Adelson, was issuingfrom their tent. A typical Ignorant, who curiously resembled Solomon Silverman, was outside beating a tom-tom with an egg beater. Having paid the ticket girl, Marion Bryant, I entered the home of the Ignorantes,', which was formerly considered the Hartford Public High School. To my astonishment, these wild people, instead of being copper-colored, were brass. The reason was clear when I saw that Ruth Chandler, Tillie Dubrow, and Louis Caplan were at last in true colors. Escaping from this wild company, I noticed Edna Pinkham selling some of her pink pills to the pale people, Mercer and Carlson. The music gallery afforded much interest. .Alfrida I-Iellstrom, the feminine Paderewski, was playing the old-fashioned song, Sweet Emilyna Hamiltonaf' and Zitella Hess, who was supplied with courage by Genevieve Kidney, turned the music. In another corner of the room were a set of melodious belles of whom several were Marion NVhipple, Alice Conley, and Bessie Milton, noted for their sweet tones. Directly in the center of the hall sat Adaline Lyman playing upon a lyre. From another direction came the almost human tones of the experimentograph, which 'was playing the Experiences of an In- experienced Housekeeperf' sung by the shade of,Mary Kenyon. Overwhelmed by the pathos of this harmonious discord, I hastened to the NVilde and Ivoolley wild west show. However, Fitch, who was roaring at the top of his lungs, detained me. This wonderful man was giving a practical demonstration of windmills, for he was supplying the wind. Near him stood Bienstock, who assisted at the balloon ascension of Ernest Kallinich. His part was to keep the bag Hlled with hot air. A large sign not far off marked the Ellsworth and Minehan mov- Q