Mynderse Academy - Myndersian Yearbook (Seneca Falls, NY)

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 % Class Prophecy I had been practicing medicine in the East and now in 1950 decided to try Hollywood. As I sat reading in the Pullman, the headlines of the daily paper caught my eye. “Smith runs for sixth term. New York’s most popular governor again to be candidate for office,” it read. And there I beheld the well-known face of—not Governor Alfred Smith, but Randall Smith! Of course, this didn’t surprise me, for I knew all about it. In fact 1 had even voted for him. At the next station a young couple entered my car. I started up in amazement; then went forward to greet Kennie Waldorf and Lizzie Soper. Kennie, it seems, was now a famous artist, and Lizzie was his favorite model. Everywhere they go, they are greeted by warm admirers. To be sure, it was because of Lizzie’s capable management that Kennie had amassed his great fortune. The hours sped onward, but nothing very exciting happened, until I had nearly reached my destination. As I descended from the train, I beheld John Or-tino. the “Genesis” of “Seventeen”. He had, I learned, gained much fame from his interpretation of similar roles. I was no less surprised when I encountered Hodge Kelley, a ticket agent of the Grand Central Station in New York. His engaging personality and business-like poise were considered priceless by his employers. I soon reached the Paramount Hotel. I stepped to the desk to register, and I was cordially greeted by William Farrell. Through his great business ability he was able to successfully manage the most popular of Hollywood’s hotels. We talked for a few moments of bygone days, and he informed me that Dorothy Adamy had a room in his hotel. I rushed excitedly to the elevator. I stepped out on the third floor, and easily-found Dorothy’s room. I was astonished to hear that our little “Dot” was now a lion tamer at Wildner’s Circus. She won the admiration of the many audiences by her fearless daring and agility. Yes, she told me, Adolph had been fascinated by circus life, so he had purchased the great Barnum and Bailey’s Circus. Finally, I went to my room and decided to lunch there. Some time later, I heard a familiar, yet peculiar voice. I opened the door, and there stood Johnny Stevenson in a bright red uniform with brass buttons! He was chief detective of the place, he confided, and only masqueraded as bell-boy. After this, I was prepared for anything. At seven, I went down to the dining room in hopes of seeing some of the film celebreties. A tiny blonde lady, exquisitely clad, caught my attention. It was none other than our fair Eloise, now starring in the ever-popular, “What Every Woman Knows.” Her escort, of course, was Henry. There was a short curly'-liaired gentleman with a fair companion at the table next mine. It was Howard Burtless, a playwright very famous for the brilliance of his comedies, with Clara Geb. Howard was now in Hollywood to see his latest and best staged. But who was this languidly smiling young man who seemed to be attracting so much attention? It was none other than Art Burley. “He’s a poet of great eminence,” I heard. “I must really find time someday to read a few of his foremost works.” Page 25 r £ :

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Senior Class History ¥ Four years ago, we shyly entered the portals of Mynderse, for we were mere “frosh” and needs must be humble; but we quickly united in a mighty league and chose Doris Wilkes to lead us through that unknown land, our first year. Very well she acquitted herself, and her reign was bright with gay festivities—the Hallowe’en and Valentine Day parties. So through the year we sped until field day came. There we took second place in favor of our sister class, the Juniors. You’ll admit no Freshman Class could be more tactful. Then came those days of sunshine and freedom—vacation days. Three months later, one crisp September day, our old band reassembled, and sophomore year had begun. Jack O’Brien, our chief led us through that uneventful year. A few swift months and then we were Juniors and Arthur Burley became our president. First the Hallowe’en party and later the Prom, gay with regal colors, purple and gold, brought us to the attention of the other classes. Field Day we let our little freshmen beat us; for wasn’t the gayest Prom in school history enough glory? Now this last semester is almost over and we feel a little subdued at the thought that we will soon be graduates, even though it has been gay. Randall Smith, our president and Miss O’Brien, our class advisor, have guided us through this red-letter year in which Nineteen Twenty-seven, has really come into its own. A Hallowe’en masquerade party started the festivities, at which the faculty joined us and vied with us in gorgeous and unusual costumes. Eagerly the Seniors made plans for their play, ’’Seventeen”, and carried it through to success. Then came Professor Losey’s famous lecture and recital. Who could forget his “Macbeth”? This was followed shortly by our Holiday Ball, which was a complete success even though our electrical effects weren’t as planned. Still the party came up to the best Mynderse traditions, and who could ask for more? Last comes “Myndersian”. In blue and white, for truth and right, We choose to tell our story. May this “Myndersian” ever be Resplendent of our glory. A.C.W.

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g sfc-» 1 Then, in a far corner, I sighted a flash of red hair. I looked again. It was Leon Dutcher! And his companion—Lewis Ireland! As I neared their table, I heard Leon seriously expounding a great ethical problem of the day. Immediately Lewis refuted the argument with profound brilliance. I learned that these gentlemen were the greatest philosophers of the era, and it was with difficulty that I wrenched myself away from their interesting conversation. Through the window 1 happened to catch sight of a brilliantly lighted edifice farther down the street. Curiously, I sauntered along the walk and joined the crowd that seemed to be rapidly filling the building. It was a church, and I learned that a spectacular evening wedding of two celebrated film stars was soon to take place. From far and wide notable persons had flocked to view this novel performance. I slipped excitedly into a seat fortunately vacant, and waited. Just as the great clock in the tower pealed the eighth resounding stroke, the organ, hidden in flowers, began to play softly. Then I sighted the minister’s face in the chancel. I rubbed my eyes frantically; was I dreaming? It was indeed Robert Wilson, with a saintly expression on his familiar face. So surprised was I, that it was not until I received a severe dig in the ribs that I noticed the arrival of the bridal party. As the murmuring music ceased, the bride turned her head and, I saw her lovely face. I gasped in astonishment. Surely it must be Nedra! The bridegroom, slender in conventional black, bowed a head of flaming red. Bill Fuess, of course. But this time I was mistaken. These were mere youngsters! I was desperately puzzled. Someone kindly explained to me that the bride was the daughter of Nedra, who had early married a wealthy Hollywood notable; the groom, the son of Bill Fuess and his lovely wife. And so it happened that Bill. Junior, and Nedrita were married. Breathlessly I watched the age-old ceremony take place, and finally found myself in the open air amid the confetti covered crowd, watching the fast disappearing bridal car. It was not until then that I noticed that Helen Syron had followed me. Helen is now a very distinguished professor of great excellence. This was surprising, for I had never dreamed of Helen’s ability along that line. Weakly, I returned to the hotel. I had had enough surprises for one day. Some time later, I was suddenly aroused from my peaceful slumbers by a piercing scream. I sat up. It seemed to come from the corridor. I looked out. There I beheld a familiar figure. Drawing her into my room I exclaimed, “Virginia! What is the matter?” Virginia had been walking in her sleep, and waking up, had found herself in the hall. I learned that she had been all over the world in her travels, and that she had published many interesting accounts of her experiences. Arlene Bishop, she told me, was now the private secretary of the President of the United States. This indeed surprised me. Think! A member of ’27 in the White House! Next morning as I descended from my room, whom did I see in the elevator but Bee Fegley! Bee told me she had at last attained her goal. She was an operatic singer of the dashing style that we can well appreciate. As Beatrice was also on a sight-seeing tour, she accompanied me on my trip through the studios. We happened to spy a neat little shop nearby, so we entered. We were delighted to find Bertha Van Riper behind the counter. She owned the store, she told us, and received the trac’e of all the best actresses at Hollywood. After a pleasant little chat, we went on our way. As we passed the aeroplane landing, a machine descended from the skies. A begoggled but familiar figure emerged from the pilot’s seat. William Matteson removed his helmet and stepped forth to greet us. We expressed our pleasure at I. Page 26