Lyman Hall High school - Singer Chronicle Yearbook (Wallingford, CT)

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Sfamuorit Here we, the departing staff, place in the hands of our readers the last work of our devotion, hoping that we have made it a book of true merit, of worthy aims, pleasing fun, and sincere work, and that it may bring as much joy to you in the reading as it has to us in the making of it. May we not take this opportunity to express, in some small measure, our deep gratitude to all of our friends and helpers: to the pupils, whose interest and contributions have livened our interest and spurred is on to greater effort; to the members of the faculty, who have so kindly aided us at all times; to the alumni, who have subscribed so generously; and to our advertisers, who have done so much to make our paper a financial success. CLASS OFFICERS Eloise Haywood, Vice-President Nohrdell Post, President Paul Solandt, Treasurer Florence Rich, Secretary CLASS POEM As life runs thru its changing course, We find at each turn and bend New worlds to conquer, strong gates to force, Before the journey’s end. Four years ago at Lyman Hall We gazed on a different life. We’ve finished the tasks, both great and small, And at last are prepared for the strife. And now, as we stand on the threshold of life, Hopes high, and hearts so gay, We know as we plunge into wordly strife, We’ll find a guiding ray, Which gleams from the Ideals taught us In the old high school days, Making us struggle to win the game And come smiling thru life’s maze. The bend of life’s river is great this time; Again we look on the new, And as we ever upward climb, Our thoughts will e’er be true, For our loyal hearts will ne’er forget The thanks we owe Lyman Hall. By doing our best we’ll pay our debt As we answer duty’s call. Catherine Lee ’22

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THE CHRONICLE III. THE SPIRIT OF MUSIC (SALUTATORY ESSAY) Recently, near the historic Fort McHenry in Delaware, commanding a sweeping view of the harbor ami Patapseo river, a monument was erected to honor the memory of Francis Scott Key, the composer of our national anthem. The pedestal of this memorial consists of a great drum richly ornamented, bearing a medallion portrait of Key and patriotic insignia encircled by figures representing music. It is topped by a colossal figure symbolizing “The Spirit of Music”. Surely it would seem that “The Spirit of Music” serves most fittingly as the theme of the monument. Someone has said, “Let me make the songs of the nation and you shall make its laws.” And it can not be denied that the spirit of song and music has played a very important part in the development of our own great and glorious nation—its hopes, its aspirations, its ideals. When the Indian warriors in their feathers and war paint set out for battle, it was the rhythmic heat of the tom-tom that stirred them to action, that inspired them, that handed them together. Music was not used merely in war, but served as an accompaniment in their wild fantastic dances when their tanned, lythe bodies, covered with brilliant paints, bent and swayed in perfect time with the rhythmic heat. When our Pilgrim forefathers came to this land for freedom of worship, these pious people brought with them a new music, the quaint and tender melodies of their psalms and hymns. The gallant men trudged ahead followed by the gray-clad women on their way to church every Sunday where they poured forth in song their faith in God and gratitude for His great goodness to them. How faithful and devout they were, these forefathers of ours, as with this music in their hearts they set about their task of establishing for our nation its firm foundation. Today there remain to us abundant examples of rhythm and melody in the omnipresent jazz music. It is a striking representation of the discord found in the heart of the nation and in the heart of the individual after the World War. However, the most ardent advocate of this barbaric music realizes in the depths of his being, that jazz is hut temporary and must soon make way for something deep and strong that will bind melody and rhythm into a perfect whole. Why is it that Paganni and Caruso are so justly famous? What have they done? They have endowed their music with a soul—and that soul is harmony. When Paganini raised his bow on high, it came down with a crash on his strings What made it sound like thunder? It was the thunder in his own soul? When his violin wailed sorrowfully, why did the tears roll down the cheeks of the orchestral veterans and even the virtuosi? Why did people go off into gales of laughter when a comic vein seized the maestro? It was his soul speaking to the people through the power of his music. Who was not entranced by the golden voice of the great Caruso? Was he not loved not only by his own countrymen but by every American as well? Masters such as these have already immeasurebly influenced our nation, fast bring ing to every home in our broad land the message of harmony. We anticipate, eagerly, the time when there will be no discords in our world of rhythm and melody and when we shall have a golden age of perfect harmony. Behold ! In the future amidst the folds of red and white and blue may we see the bronzed figure of the Spirit of Music looking down upon us with benign approval and may the whispering breezes bear to us the words of Milton: