Pulaski High School - Oriole Yearbook (Pulaski, VA)

 - Class of 1937

Page 43 of 96


Pulaski High School - Oriole Yearbook (Pulaski, VA) online yearbook collection, 1937 Edition, Page 43 of 96
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Pulaski High School - Oriole Yearbook (Pulaski, VA) online yearbook collection, 1937 Edition, Page 42
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Page 43 text:

people say, “Good gracious, what a noise! That must be some of those terrible modern pieces?” I remember our preacher one Sabbath day discussed the undesirable effects of jazz on the emotions. For an illustration he used the jazz piece “Singin’ in the Bathtub.” What is wrong with that? I think it is a delight- ful habit, and if one gets so much enjoyment out of the performance that one can sing, then I say, “Go to it!” I want to quote still from another song, “You can’t laugh until you’ve learned to cry; sunshine must follow gloom.” Essays have been written, sermons have been preached on this quotation and it has comforted thou- sands of people in their darkest hours. Today musical people are finding fault with our modern composers. If the composer of today does not treat the themes that appeal most strongly to us, it is probably because he can find no terms in which to do so save those of his predecessors. I feel that we shall soon see the day when only the best elements of jazz will be evident and the undesirable ones will be exterminated. However, jazz is inferior to classical music in the emotions it arouses. Classical music inspires me to be ambitious, to do helpful things and to love everyone. On the other hand, jazz makes me want to kick up my heels and say, “Let the rest of the world go by, but let me have my fun!” There isn’t anything more inspiring than classical music, but jazz is a way out of your troubles. So I hope that you all may say the same thing in your heart as I do, “Long live jazz!” Mary Thorn Painter, ’37.

Page 42 text:

Jazz Music H OW’M I doin’ Hey! Hey!” I daresay that there are not two people out of every ten who are not familiar with this quotation and who do not know from whom I am quoting. Can we say then that jazz has such a wide appeal that ninety-five per cent of the American people are very familiar with the more popular jazz compositions (if we may term them such)? Sometimes we hear people say, ‘‘I love jazz, it simply thrills me through and through.” On the other hand we sometimes hear this: “Jazz is the root of all evil, and it is leading the young people astray and wrecking their lives.” Well, what is jazz and why is there so much controversy about it? Nothing under the sun that man has made is really perfect, so if jazz has some qualities that are not admirable, it is no more than we can expect. One night as I was sitting in church trying to be interested and especially to keep from falling asleep, the preacher made this profound statement, “Jazz is a colossal travesty.” I could hardly control myself until I could get home to a dictionary to see what jazz really is. I found that jazz is a huge imitation. How could this be so? It seems to me so unique in form that it should be set apart from other forms of music. The main feature in jazz is the wonderful rhythm. This, together with the use of syncopa- tion, or the transferring of the strong accent to the weaker accent, and also harmony (although some people think that there is no harmony in jazz), make up the essential elements. In classical music the old masters insisted on accenting certain notes, but not even the choicest sonata can boast of the ihythm found in jazz. In jazz, however, those forces which nature has given us that make us want to pat our feet and sway our bodies give full swing to their inclinations. So, really, jazz in one sense is an improvement over classical music. When one is asked to play a classical number, and if one knows that he is not able to do justice to that piece, one does not usually try to play it. However, if that same person were asked to play a jazz piece, he would certainly try it. Now there are just as few people who can play jazz as there are who can play classical music. When one hears girls continually trying to play jazz, making the most terrible discords, haven’t you heard 34

Page 44 text:

The art of Catching fish With Your Hands I T WAS during my camping trip at Long Spur, Va., that I first learned to catch fish with my hands. We had camped for about a week, during which my friend with whom I was camping had made an acquaintance- ship with one of the local boys. One day he went with this boy on a fishing trip. I noticed that they carried no fishing equipment with them. (That was crazy, I thought.) They were gone about an hour and a half and returned with a nice catch of fish. You could have knocked me over with a feather when my friend told me that they had caught them with their hands! My friend was very enthusiastic over this new method of fishing and just couldn’t wait to show me how. I went along with him as soon as we had eaten our dinner, and I went barefooted, which was a very foolish thing to do I afterwards learned. We were camped just a short walk from Little Walker’s creek, which is shallow (about six or eight inches deep) at this point. (If the water is too deep you cannot catch fish with your hands.) Most of the bottom is composed of sharp upthurst ledges of slate which lacerated our feet terribly. It is strewn with boulders of varying sizes under which the fish hide. Wading into the water, my friend poked a long stick under a rock and succeeded in running out a fish. He ran along the bank and saw it disappear under a large rock. Reaching underneath with both hands, he brought forth a large flopping “red-eye.” As this looked simple I decided to try it. Wading out to the habitat of one of these finny creatures, I boldly thurst my hand underneath. Grop- ing about I finally grasped the fish. It felt as if I had grabbed a pincushion full of red-hot needles. With a yelp I dropped the fish while my companion rolled on the bank in a fit of laughter. I was so disgusted that I immediately returned to the camp. A few days later our parents came to visit us and we decided to catch some fish for them. We crossed the spur and covered about two miles of the creek in our fishing. When we returned we trium- phantly carried twenty-three fine specimens, none of them under eight inches, including bass, red-eyes and suckers. This was our largest catch. Later on that week I got my biggest scare in fishing. While I was

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