St Margarets School - Salmagundi Yearbook (Waterbury, CT)

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COMPLAINT TU FATHER TIME VENERABLE SIR: The class of '38 wishes to register a complaint for your lack of indulgence. Our four years have been altogether too brief 5 in fact, we feel that you have been most ungenerous to us. Beginning with our Freshman year, time went all too swiftly to include '38's numerous events and accomplishments. As june 1935 marked the close of our first crammed year, '38 had to its credit two capable officers and one equally capable class ad- viser, namely, Sue Smith, chairman, Doris Boies, treasurer, and Miss Sutherland, faculty adviser. Our automobile party must also be mentioned, for even now we hear reverberations of it. Even you, Father Time, must remember that hat Margie had on and the horn,' contest, too, where contestants were requested to imitate the horns of different automobiles. We felt terribly proud of our young selves, but, as always, we had no time to indulge in that feeling at all. As early as our Freshman year, the Glee Club began to be populated with '38's, Margaret, Kitty, Sue Smith, Betty Hinman, Mary Louise, and Alice Heminway, being the songbirds on the preferred list. But time dragged us on so fast that we had to give athletics just a lick and a promise in between energetic water fights and the wonderful picnic at which Betty Hinman so kindly was hostess. We returned from our summer vacation ex- pecting to take life easy, now that we had grown up to the high estate of Sophomores, but again you jerked us along by the ears. First of all, Sue hav- ing left us, we had to elect new officers, so Margie Gifiin became our chairman, and Kitty, our treas- urer. Having risen above the enjoyment or need of water fights, we took time to be well represented on the athletic teams, and the Latin Club, Magpie board, and Glee Club welcomed with open arms the torrents of gifted Sophomores that fell upon them. Time rushed us on again to our class party, this year a newspaper party. The school seemed to appreciate our first journalistic efforts, for the party was a success meriting headlines in any extra. But before we had the chance of reveling in the joys of Sophomore freedom, you, Father Time, announced that the day had come for us to take up Junior responsibilities. After much serious discus- sion on the weighty problems ahead, we proudly and unanimously elected Kay Platt to the position of secretary on the Stu Gee Board, for, knowing her capabilities, the rest of the school backed us up. Our year was brought to its customary all too speedy close when, while our elder schoolmates coquetted and danced in the gym, we had a de- lightful supper with Miss Sutherland at the cottage and then went to see Mr. Deeds Goes zo Town. After we returned, we peeked enviously through the gym windows. The following autumn saw us gleeful over our new status - we were genuine upper classmen at last. Even if we hadn't discovered that we couldn't get along without our well tried officers, we wouldn't have had time to choose new ones. Our Junior year began in its customary rush, and the fall was positively crammed with events. '38 whipped through the hockey season packing the teams with its members. Several Friday after- noons, most of us participated in those scrumptious French Club teas which had for so long been be- yond our reach. Time suddenly precipitated us into the midst of the Roosevelt-Landon presidential campaign. One fine day we were transported to Waterbury and from behind the bars which encircle a well-kept green yard we, open-mouthed, watched Roosevelt's triumphant procession through the city. Spurred on by this close contact with national politicians, we celebrated the campaign locally by our own polit- ical rally. Shall we ever forget Margie Gifiin be- neath John L. Lewis' craggy eyebrows, or Margie Newton, as A1 Smith, enthusiastically slinging mud at Roosevelt with an appropriate East Side accent while realistically chewing on a powerful five cent cigar? Jane Farwell ably supported the radical element in the person of Earl Browder, while Mickey and Ellen, as the Republican elephant, danced to the tune of Oh,Susan11a. Nan Armstrong illustrated the effect of Roosevelt's Ciceronian oratory by emotionally forsaking Browder with: I can't stand it any longer- I 'nz converted! and a consequent dash to the booth to cast her vote for

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Roosevelt. If you hadn't rushed us on so, Father Time, weld still have been voting and perhaps Landon might have won. In your characteristic fashion of hurrying us from one thing to another, we found ourselves, on the eve of the Christmas pageant, well-represented both in the Christmas Choir and among the angels. The loveliness of that memorable evening was temporarily dispelled the next morning as we shivered in the corridors and sang carols to the rest of the school. Vacation sped by, and we found ourselves one january day, marching into the dining room headed by the omcers for our senior year, namely: president, Margie Gifihn, vice-president, Doris Boies, secretary, Betty Tompkins, and orator, Kay Platt. Shortly after that we met in small, unsus- picious-looking groups-or so we thought-in Miss Fdell's study to choose our color and dress. After much deliberation and suppressed offs and !l1l,5 of delight, we finally agreed on Engadine Hlue. Incidentally, our uniform created quite a stir when we announced it at The Magpie fashion show, and it took its place among the best styles of the year. We thought we'd get a jump ahead of time and choose our flower early, but again you intervened, and it wasn't until May that our choice of white iris was revealed. The Seniors proved to be almost your equal, Father Time, judging from the way they rushed us down the steps one day in early spring. It was a delicious and provoking taste, however, of the privilege to come next year. In no time at all the junior-Senior lacrosse game came around, and did we feel proud when we carried off the laurels! Willy-Nilly, our sub- mascot, led our triumphant entry onto the field, and the Seniors flitted upon us as butterflies. The Senior-Junior banquet was here before we knew it, but this time we must confess we could not object too strenuously to the rush. Miss Sutherland's speech about the fourth dimension quite amazed us at her abilities as an orator, and we blushed with the best of them at our slams. But we hardly had a moment to meditate on the seniors' approaching day of departure and our own nearing responsibilities and privileges before you brought the banquet to all too swift a close. The ring of a cowbell introduced the long- awaited mascot hunt. liven a steady downpour of rain didn't seem to dampen the Seniors' zeal as they tracked down our clues, while we sat grinding our teeth in study hall. But here for once, Father Time, you helped us, for night fell soon to prove the Seniors' quest a vain one, and not until Class Day did we announce our mascot, an armillary sundial. VVe seemed to approve of the taste of '37 for we again selected Mohawk as the site for the junior-Senior picnic. After climbing mountains, exploring caves, and singing gaily on top of a little stone tower with never a thought of the exams to come, we climaxed the picnic by announcing our song between mouthfuls of fried chicken and doughnuts. It was really your fault, Father Time, that we didn't sing with more lusty assurance- but our guests assured us that we'd done well for our first appearance. As the end of the year came dashing toward us, we shouldered our new responsibilities and looked to our Stu Gee Board for able leadership. Phyllis was elected president, Kay Platt, vice- president, and Nan, treasurer. No sooner had we started to enthusiastically congratulate the new board, than you, Father Time, hurled us into the midst of that long-awaited upper class privilege - participation in Commencement week-end. We gaily donned our evening togs and almost danced our feet off Saturday night at the prom in an