Mynderse Academy - Myndersian Yearbook (Seneca Falls, NY)

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Class History Listen, my children, and you shall hear of a group of folk who, lar from celestial in thought or inclination, entered the sacred precincts of Mynderse .Academy in the year 1921. They came as Freshmen, and they rejoiced that this was so. Ah, many years remained for untold acts of joyous expression, not repression. Why repress? Let pandemonium reign! But there must be a king in this jolly little kingdom. So they cast about for one, and found him. They installed Herman Tennant upon a regal throne. His subjects cast dust into their eyes, the dust of happiness. They danced, sang, and laughed the joyous hours away. Study ? 11 did not come in the regular schedule of life, only in the school schedule, and what was that!—Thus passed the first year, light-footed and gay. Know you that they represented themselves by the colors orchid and silver. It was a happy choice. As sophomores they once more sought for a leader, and chose the queenly Dora. She was fair and earnest. They liked her. Dora Clary became the idol of that fickle mob. Eagerly then they fretted for something tangible to do, something that would furnish fun and show their wit. Presto! They had a Christmas party in the gym. They arrayed those newly planed boards with decorations gay. They cast red splashes on astonished white and christened them the class colors. The party waxed merry, truly. A nonsensical shadow play was given, and Bob Follette endeared herself to the hearts of the Sophs by her gay rendition of “Don’t Bring Me Flowers When It’s Shoeses that I Need.” Then Horace Knight as Santa Claus jingled merrily in, and each Soph received his or her present. (By the way, 1 got a monkey on a string and knew not how to take it, as flattering or otherwise.) After a final fling at dancing, the Sophs called it a night and went home to dream—of nothing in particular. Why waste energy that way? The party over, the Sophs became restless again and went in for athletics. Field Day came in all its splendor. A breathlessly interested crowd attended, and the Sophs were out in full regalia. Harvey Dutcher, their cheer leader, won half the battle by his persevering yells and contortionist’s antics. On that eventful day the Sophs swept on to victory and won a silver cup as reward. Thus ended the second year, with rejoicing. The Juniors assembled for their third year. A bit more sober were they, bui not one whit less bright. Quickly Herman was again made king and all were merry. A Hallowe’en party started the tun. There was mystery and spookiness in that affair. Everyone felt it. Witches, elves and sprites entered into the merry-making, and continued to romp long after the party was over. Never before was such a time, and never again will be! That year may it be said, the Juniors truly studied a bit, but studying grew boresome. I hey again threw off restraint—it chafed—and eagerly made preparations for a Junior play. On that night of nights that the “Dangerous Experiment” was given, the Juniors found renown. Charlie Wessell proved to be a great find, a true comedian. Who can forget Herman as the woman in scarlet? After the play which was an undoubted success, the orchestra struck up, and the dance was on. Followed an interim of comparative quiet, interspersed with scattered parties. Then came, oh say it breathlessly with just the right amount of awe, the Junior Prom. What glorious planning was then in order! What topsy-turvy delight, even in thinking of it! Dancing, music, punch! Under the shifting lights as merry a crowd as ever I hoped to see, and the glory—the glory of being a Junior! Days rushed by. Now came Field Day with its multitudes, its dust, and its tension. I hat cup, that glorious silver symbol, passed once more into our hands. Our class had made good! Then summer. Now we are Seniors, and dignified, according to popular tradition. That is why we have chosen Horace Knight as our sob;r representative. Under his tutelage, and that of Miss O’Brien, who has always been our class advisor and friend, we have produced three stupendous social successes;—s ailver tea, the .Senior Play, and the Senior Ball. Now our term is drawing to a close, but before I end the story of our bright meteoric reign in Mynderse, there is one more thing just shouting tor mention, so 1 shall put it here where you all may read. Tis so very importart—Year Book, make your bow! We’ve put our best in you, but we know you’re worth it. We, the class of 1925, were the first to appreciate your true worth, and beauty. Hail! Long may you live, for in you we live also! Page 21 Historian—E. M., ’25.

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M argaret McCarthy “Marg We may describe Margaret as quite the airiest little lady the sun has ever shone on. Margaret likes the gay side of life. Not even Regents can dampen her enthusiasm for fun. We hope that her optimism will always be on hand, and that life will hold nothing but joy for her. Audria Patterson Audria lives on the other side of the great lake Cayuga. There has been only one draw back to her education at Myndersc- her train’s tendency to sloth and idleness. She could write a book on the joys of commuting, but she disclaims any literary intentions. She admits, however, that she may become a nurse. Rosetta Thomas “Roses “Roses” is her name, and a rose indeed she is, tall and slender, but with no prickly thorns. How we would miss her “Hello, you,” and the smile that accompanied it. Good luck to you, “Roses.” Our wish for you is that you’ll always be successful with the same ease that marked you as the invincible forward of 25’s team. Page 20

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Class Prophecy Members of the Class of 1925 Mynderse Academy ATTENTION ! ! .ire you coming to the reunion? IVhy?—To celebrate rur twenty-fifth anniversary of course. IVhere?—Seneca Falls. IVhen?—June JO, IQJO. Such was the message that came winging its way by air-mail to my Los Angeles home one bright June morning in 1950. Would I attend a reunion of the class of '25? Well I guess so! And that is how I happened to step off the train in Seneca Falls a few weeks later. Everything seemed changed, and my village had become a city. However, as I passed down the street a familiar face appeared on the horizon —that of my one-time school mate, Charles Wessell. He was unaltered (even his blush was the same) although he had become a world-famous comedian. Yes, the most innocent looking little boy” in our Senior Class was in far greater demand than Charlie Chaplin had ever been. Even ten years before, when I met him in Hollywood, his name was already an atraction to America theatre-goers. I continued on my way to the Gould (it was still on the same corner) and as I crossed to the other side I joyfully encountered two ladies, both of whom I endeavored to hug at once—Grace Bowell and Jeannette Dutcher. The former was a prima donna, while her friend travelled with her as her accompanist. They were widely known and had spent many successful seasons abroad. At luncheon I met two more old friends, Helen Nearpass and Dorothea Russell the one (laugh!) a matron in an Old Ladies’ Home, the other a dietitian. I am happy to say, however, that Dorothea never ruined any one’s digestion by ordering for him her own favorite luncheon combination, cream puffs and sour pickles. We five proceeded to view Main Street before going up to New Mynderse ('twas new twenty-five years ago). Over Conboy’s store was a sign which read “Conboy anil Tennant.” Just then a beautiful limousine drew up at the curb. The door opened; a tall man alighted and turned to assist with oldern gallantry a rosy-cheeked little lady. We recognized these grand folk as Mary and Herman, and some one remarked that Herman had been in partnership with his father-in-law for eighteen years. Without further delay, we made our way to Mynderse where we found the class assembled in the auditorium. During the glad reunion that followed, I learned how the years had treated these friends of mine. Our august president had lost all his extra avoirdupois and was quite lean, but he had become our honored ambassador to China. You remember how he used to devour Chinese novels? This was no passing interest, and when he met the famous Dr. I while taking a course at John Hopkins Medical College, they became fast friends. Horace proceeded to make a study of Chinese conditions and was soon so famous for his research work in China that he was appointed minister to the walled country where, he said, life just suited him. Paul Simson (Say, you know) had qualified as a heart specialist, but sad to say, he was not immune to diseases of that delicate organ, for on his return from England he had brought home a fair-haired maiden who answered to all descriptions of Shakespeare’s blond heroines. Barbara Follette, our most serious-minded classmate, being the only boy in the family and bound in honor to keep up the dignity of the house, had at last followed in her father’s footsteps, bent her energies on pill-box and medical book, and gained for herself the proud title of Dr. Bob, the best little sport in town. Betty Rolfe—you know how she adored bugs? Well, she married a buggy man, that is to say, a naturalist; and so interested had she become in his work that she spent most of her time ensnaring creepy specimens and mounting them for future use. Harold Kuney was exactly what no one would expect him to be—a science professor in a woman’s college. He said that at first he had a few doubts about accepting such a position, but that there is nothing like getting used to a thing—girls in particular. Mary Medden, our sober little friend, had come from far off India where she had been engaged in missionary work among the heathen. Truly, it was a long distance to travel for a class reunion; but Mary made it very nicely, for she arrived only an hour late. Helen Byrne was a zealous politician and devoted all her energies to the advancement of her city and state. She was the leader of the Woman’s Party in New York. But her national activities, as well, were so numerous, that her aeroplane was kept continually travelling from one coast to the other. Page 22