Albany High School - Thronateeska Yearbook (Albany, GA)

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The Thrnru iteeska HAROLD TODD. “Chicago.” “He was a man, take him all in all, We shall not look upon his like again. On September 17th, 1919, a favorable wind blew Chicago Todd safe into the port of the Albany High School. Though he found some difficulty at first in becoming securely anchored, once ashore, Harold has either eaten of the lotus or succumbed to the magic spell of South Georgia; for home ami friends forgot, he is a “Cracker” through and through—Yankee accent and all. Rest all round athlete of the A. H. S. Captain Football 1920. Basketbull, 1920. Baseball, 1920. Secretary and Treasurer Senior Class, 1920. LUCILE FOUCHE. “Ah, why should life all labor be?” Another rural maid, who, in her Junior year, journeyed down from Leesburg and was welcomed to “The City.” So great was Mademoiselle Fouche’s capacity for civilization (?) that she has adopted a truly cosmopolitan air, is as Frenchy as she looks, and her little head is crowned with the most elaborate coiffure in the grade— a popular model, which many have tried in vain to duplicate. But we will not hold it against you, Lucile! Page Twenty'two

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The Thronateeska HATTIE HARDY. “Baby.” “Infinite riches in a little room. Our class Baby! Demure anti dainty— fairy stature—raven hair ami violet eyes —isn’t she the cunningest one? Little Hattie with her winning way and artless air finds goodness and gladness in everyone, in everything, everywhere. Sponsor Boys’ Basketball team 1919. Nonsense Editor Annual Staff. RANDOLPH ARMSTRONG. “Higher still and higher! The blue deep thou wingest.” Fair of feature, strong of limb and clean of heart. Classical student, first class athlete and a favorite with the girls. What more can a mere boy desire? Yet Randolph has developed a soaring ambition of late and since the advent of passengercarrying aeroplanes in cur town, he is happy only in the high places, where he looks serenely down on the earth ami earthly things, such as Math, I,atin and the barbarous multitude. Basketball 1920. Page Twenty-one

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The Evolution of a Senior The Thronateeska (A pantomine in a Prologue and One Act.) Time: 1016-1920. Place: Albany, Georgia. Settings designed and executed b the Brosnan Studios; stage direction R. E. Brooks, M. I.. Brosnan and staff. Prologue The orchestra plays a slow, halting melody and supports the cellos wailing in an eager, sorrowful way. The curtain slowly rises, disclosing a stage dimly lighted. Thru the gloom a large building with tell columns is visible, and, leading up to the doorway is a long flight of steps. Near the top a small figure climbs wearily upward, pulling its load of books by a great effort up another step. At last it gains the top, pauses as though reluctant to enter, then timidly knocks. The massive doors swing wide, and amid much shouting the shrinking figure creeps in. Great noise off stage, then all is omniouslv still. (Orchestra cue: “There’ll He a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight.” CURTAIN. ACT 1. SCENE 1. The curtain rises on a drab, cheerless room. Desks are arranged stiffly in rows, and above each peeps a small, round head glistening in its baldness. All eyes are studiously bent on books as though dreading to raise them to the center desk, where Grim Authority reigns. On the blackboard in front mysterious symbols of X, Y and Z’s are omniously displayed, and in one corner hangs a map of an unknown land, labeled “Gallia.” The orchestra continues its droning air, accompanied occasionally by a chorus of sighs escaping from the craven bald heads. Sometimes under the two keen eyes of Authority a veritable epidemic of squirming attacks the little lean bodies, and visions of faraway two o’clock flash through each surfeited Freshman brain. SCENE 2. The setting is less somber than before with even a daring hint of color splashed here and there. The heads now easily visible above the well carved desks are fewer in number but crowned with luxuriant pompadours. An occasional smile lurks behind the open books or the subdued crescendo of a giggle rises with the laughter of the violins. One might even dare to disregard the books and dream in the sunshine struggling thru the windows, but there still dominating the whole. Authority stands. The heads seem to rise higher, however, and assume confidence with the music, which as the curtain falls, sweeps into a bold swinging rythm. Page Twenty-three