Palm Beach Community College - Galleon Yearbook (Lake Worth, FL)

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Last IjOill and Testament l State of Florida County of Palm Beach We, The Sophomore Class oF 1947 (It being brought to our attention that we are about to end our short stay in Palm Beach Junior College), after being assured that we possess a sound state of mind, wish to bequeath our many valuable possessions to the class that will follow in our faltering footsteps. VVe do hereby make, declare, and publish this, our Last Will and Testament. Section I, Article I: To the Faculty, we will our appreciation for their patience and sympathy in dealing with our ineptness. Section II, Article I: To the Freshmen, soon to be Sophomores, we leave all our Sophomore subjects and the diligence with which we applied ourselves to the mastery of them. Section III, Article I: I, Virginia Anthony, will to Bob Grafton one of my many yachts ; to any unsus- pecting Freshman, my trig book and all best wishes; to Chick and Sweeney, the hope of some day beating Winnie and me in bridge; to Faye Jo hns, a complete envy for her fabulous figure; to Betty Gene Walden, a box of seasick pills; and to Mr. Zimmerman, a biological encyclopedia, dealing profoundly with the phylogenti; tree. I, Winifred Anthony, will to Bill Chickering my superb ability to play bridge ; to Roger Collar, the word complete ; to Donald Diemer and Bob Zimmer- man, an eternal lecture on the evils of beer parties; to Reubengast and Company, my perfect understanding of trig; and to Betty Gene Walden, a baked potato. I, Winnie Clowe, do hereby leave my title of Chloe to Eddy Eissey because he seems to like it so much. I, Betty Jean Drut, leave my unbent deck of cards to that whiz bridge player, Hal MacLane. I, Ginny Du. bury, do hereby bequeath my indis- pensable membership in English 201 to any unsuspect- ing Freshman. I, Ann Elliott, do hereby leave my berth on the cheering squad to some peppy little jitterbug; I refuse to leave anything else because I need it all. I, James English, leave the ability to the Freshmen boys of my speech class to come back next year and talk themselves into a diploma. I, Robert Grafton, do hereby will and bequeath to my successor as president of the Esquire Club the un- enviable task of planning, chaperoning, and meditating at all Esquire functions, especially the beach parties. I, Robert Harris, do hereby bequeath my ability to attend Junior College for five years and still remain a Freshman to any unfortunate who should desire it. I, Faye Johns, do hereby will to Winnie Anthony what she wants, and to Gene Taintor my ability to cram for tests. I, Florence lohnson, lea ' e! I, Marian Lamb, in a slightly bewildered state of mind, lea e all my committees to any poor little Fresh- man who is sucker enough to get hooked into them. I, Dottie Legere, leave the job of making out re- ports to any aspiring young Freshman. I, Marge McGee, being in ad ' anced state of feeble- mindedness, will to Betty Gowen my talent for getting into hot water at the drop of the proverbial hat. I, Marcia Morgan, bequeathed to T. W. Mills the one thing I ' ' e been trying to get rid of for years — my ability to blush at the drop of a hat; this he can put to good use; to Bill Hagen my title Honor Student with the hope that it fits him better than it has me and to Wendy Waggener my reputation as the drippiest Bombsickle eater in school. I, Doris Phillips (the dumbest student in Chemis- try) do hereby leave to Bob DeRosier all of my sweaters in which he has been so interested — besides I won ' t need them since I ' m going to a girl ' s school next year — and to Harold Bond (who tried so diligently to help me in said class), the pleasure that comes with my parting. I, Bob Robertson, bequeath to Mr. Holt all my knowledge in Accounting and Political Science — the contribution won ' t be great! I, Betty Gene Walden, do hereby will to Jake, Jim, and Joe my ability to carry my conversation down the hall. I, Jeanne Wheatley (not sure of my state of mind) leave to Carolyn Frazell what little sense I have left after working on the annual. ' I, Martha Willard, bequeath my front seat in His- tory class to Hal MacLane and along with it the ability to count you see ' s. Witnesses: Marge McGee, Martha Willard, Rob- ert Grafton, Bill Phicl. Chief Testator: Marcia Morgan.

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and we were oft for a clay at DiiRois. We came back burned to a crisp and so stuftcd with food that it was all we could do to dray in at the end of the day. We swam, ate, played ball, ate, took sun baths, aiul piilislucl (ill liu ' ri ' sl oi llie |)i)lato salad and jiickles. s the year drew to a close we yave a banquet lor the soj)honiores at the Woman ' s Club. Cnfts were presented to different members of the class. The Esquires na e a dance for the crowning of the c|ueen of Junior Colle e at the Norton Art Gallery. And then the final graduation dance at the Gallery concluded our first year at the College. At last we v ere sophomores — that enviable state that the year before had seemed unattain- able. The instructors did not seem in the least alarmed to see us back again n ir did they bow low wiicn we passed as we had half expected. Alas and alack, we found being a sophomore was not too ditlcrent from being a freshman e. cept for a little more sophistication. This year there has been only one Esquire beach party compared to fi e last year. For some odd reason ail of us have seemed more intent on working rather than playing. The Phi Da Di ' s got into full swing with so many boys coming in at the beginning of the year. They have taken in two pledge classes this year and have left a well-organized group to carry on in the coming years. Because of the enlarged enrollment a new girls ' club was formed during the year. This group, the Thi Dels, have become well organized and have participated in campus acti ities along with their sister organization, the Philos. This year has moved swiftly; and suddenly the Christmas holidays were here and the big Christmas dance was again held at the Gallery. The dance was formal as usual, and the hall was decorated in Christmas greens that had been brought by the boys of the college. Again the Esquires entered the picture by sponsoring a Negro football game on Anderson Field with the proceeds going to the athletic fund. With the closing of our last year at Junior College came many parties and final papers. There was the buffet supper for us given by Marge McGee during the Easter Holidays, and then the barbecue out at Marion Lamb ' s where we swam until dark and then stuffed food until it was time to go home. The boat ride that was gi ' en by the Anthony twins burned us to a crisp. And then another Skip Day where we did everything that we did last year and more, too. During the year the freshmen gave us a banquet, and we felt like very special guests indeed. The Philos gave a dance at the Norton Art Gallery that was formal and loads of fun. All of these things seemed to happen at one time, and to top if off we held a minstrel in the fligh School auditorium which proved to be a great success. Finally came the last three big events that really meant that we were graduating: First, the graduation dance which again was at the Gallery; then Baccalaureate service at Holy Trinity when we all marched down the aisle in our caps and gowns on Sunday, May 25. (It was only then that we began to be serious about leaving Junior College; and suddenly we didn ' t want to graduate quite so much); and lastly, that day of days arrived — Graduation Day on May 27 — when we marched up in our gowns and caps to receive our diploma. Yes, Junior College has meant something to us, something that none of us can put into words. Mways when we hear the name of Palm Beach Junior College, we will connect it in our minds with fun, new friends, and that intangible something that has made our last two years so memorable.

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Prophecy .y $ Yt ' stcrcl.iy cMMiing as ni tlioiiLjIus were poiulcring on iiKiiiy tilings, 1 began to wonder wliere this year ' s graduates would be ten years Irom now and what they would be doing. So to kill my euriosity I went up to the attie, and there it was just as I had lelt it. 1 c|uickly brushed the dust oft ' and turned the switeh. Yes, my time maebine was still in working eondition. 1 began to turn the dial. Suddenly 1 stopped, tor there was Virginia Anthony busily keeping bouse in Palm Beaeh for her husband, sons, and twin daughters; and Winnie Anthony was surrounded by the fi e ehil- drcn she always said she was going to ha e. As I proceeded to look into the future, I was sur- prised to see before my ery eyes John Cater, Jr., stand- ing before an enormous audience making his presidential inaugural address. And there sitting in the reporter ' section was Ann Elliott taking his speech down in shorthand. Ne. t, I thought I would lea e the United States and see what was happening abroad. To my amazement, there was Winnie Clowe over in Spain. She was now the American ambassador to this country. On my way back home I decided to stop in Wash- ington for a few minutes to see if any of my fellow stu- dents were in power there. 1 wasn ' t too surprised to find James English as aconomic advisor to the President of the United States. My next stop was in the slums of New York where I came across a tall blonde woman who was head of the social workers there. Then I recognized her as Betty Jean Drut. i ot knowing who I would run across next, I turned the dial without looking and of all places for it to stop was at MIT ' s research laboratory where I found Ginny Duxbury. I was feeling very proud of her — then I saw her pick up a broom and start sweeping the floors. 1 hen my little time machine took me back to West Palm Beach. I was bewildered for a short time as it brought me down Dixie Highway to Gardenia Street where it turned right and continued until it reached l- ' alm Beach Junior College. The next thing I knew was that I was in Miss Crozier ' s English class. She had just asked w hat poet had written The Faerie Queene. Then Bob C.rafton raised his hand ant! answered. I decided to roam around the city for a while. The first thing I noticed was a large sign in front of a very modernistic building. It read: B. J. Walden Construction Company. I wondered if Clematis Street had changed, so that was my next stop. I saw Mrs. Marge McGee and Mrs. France s Stambaugh talking to each other. Frances had a blonde curly headed little girl holding her hand, and Marge had three little boys (identical) running madly around her. Marcia Morgan came running up to them and showed them a letter she had iust received from Doris Phillips. Doris was ha ing a family reunion in South Carolina with all four of her husbands and her seven children. Marcia had to hurry off to meet her hus- band as they were planning to spend the week-end at their summer cottage. Marian Lamb came hurrying by. She didn ' t have time to stop as she was going to a Woman ' s Club meet- ing of which she was a committee chairman for a benefit show coming up the next v ' eek. Just about this time Dorothy Legere came dri ing down the street in a long black con ertible. I couldn ' t quite make out who her husband was. A very business-like man came walking by swinging his cane; he was none other than Bob Harris. My time machine stopped next in the city of Lake W orth in front of a modem little house with a white picket fence around it. There sitting on the front porch was Martha Willard reading fain,- tales to a cute round- faced little boy whom she called Bobby. I left this peaceful scene and came back to West Palm Beach where I proceeded to the newspaper ofticc. I entered the editor ' s office and there sitting in back of a desk that was co ered with stacks of typed paper was Jeanne Wheatley busily giving last minute instructions to make-up men before going to press. I then came upon a huge up-to-date laundry. I saw a car stop in front of it, a chauffeur open the back door, and Robert Robertson get out. Then I noticed the name of the establishment. It was Robertson ' s Modem Laundrw As I walked on down the street, I chanced to pass a parked car, from which I heard a radio playing. A soap box opera was just beginning and then I recognized the oices of Faye Johns and Florence Johnson giving out with a singing commercial. That was all I could take so I turned the sw itch off and put the machine back in its resting place in the attic to once more become covered with dust until my curiosity would again get the best of me.