Banff High School - Yearbook (Banff, Alberta Canada)

Page 16 text:

j ’izam in £DLt Dave White As I sit here alone in my own rocking chair And listen to music come over the air I say to myself, ’Dave, old man, you’re Square, You once were strictly hot stuff. - now you’re strictly nowhere.’ The soft dreamy music of Kenton’s brass section Encourages me in my mood of reflection My head starts to nod and it falls on my chest - Or would if my chest hadn’t dropped to my vest. (And sneaking of vests, when did they disappear? And I fitfully dream of a gone yesteryear.) The fashion in clothes was Victorian drape And records were made in cylindrical shape The neighbors would gather outside on the green To hear the new wonder ’The Talking Machine.’ And that was the thing for a season or two Till the horn disappeared and the box came in view With glazed walnut doors and crank you could spin The records were flattened and Jack, it was in. And when you took tootsie out stepping at night Behind potted palms you were hidden from sight The orchestra leader was always named Max Then somebody added a baritone sax. A banjo, a drummer, some blazers and slacks And some leader t hought of his own music racks And ouick like a rabbit the song - singing nation Adopted the craze that they called syncopation. So Sweet Adeline changed to Sweet Georgia Brown And Charleston became quite a musical town The laughing trombone made the tiger rag roar And St. Louis Blues was the only encore. Let mine be one of those uplifted faces Watching the bass player go through his paces Wearing moustaches and various hats And doing it all in the key of three flats.

Page 15 text:

Crip to O’fiara Early Saturday morning, thirty energetic souls turned up at the school grounds to hike to O ' Hara. We piled our packs and ourselves into four cars and left for Wapta, which is about fifty miles from Banff. We arrived at Wapta about ten-thirty and started up the trail which proved to be more than just an after¬ noon stroll. We stopped a little better than half way to eat lunch, then trudged on reaching the cabin about two o ' clock where we walked in on a honeymoon couple. They were a little surprised to see us but didn ' t seem to mind the intrusion too much. They joined us in our games and dances. After supper we all participated in a scavenger hunt but after hunting for an hour or so came to the conclusion that some of the objects were impossible to find. Then came time for the Lowly Ones to be initiated which was somewhat of a crooked game because whether or not they told the truth they still paid the con¬ sequence . After a cup of delicious hot chocolate we all re¬ tired to our bunks, of course not to sleep but I would be ashamed even to tell my best friend what was said and sung. Everyone was awake bright and early to have a hardy breakfast before touring some more of the beaut¬ iful terrain, returning in time for lunch which consis¬ ted of leftovers. On the way back we conscripted an army of all eligible males and marched onward letting nothing stop us, not even creeks. We reached the cars about four forty-five and returned to Banff, famished and tired, but the trip was well worth the effort. I

Page 17 text:

Let me go back to that quaint little shop Where they sold blues that were strictly de trop ’No easy riders,’ it said on the wall Either you buy ’em or don’t play at all. But rest easy censor the words have departed The musical background was just getting started That sly little riff that most people let pass Today is of age and arranged for nine brass. The thought of such noise nearly wakes me from slumber But I toss and turn to a quieter number The ’traps’ and the ’Snares’ are completely subdued The music America wanted was ’mood.’ Orchestral arrangements were getting their start As Hickman and Whiteman crept into our heart And Olson and Goldkettle and Garger and Weems Played pretty for you and the girl of your dreams. The advent of swing brought the jitterbugs out And business quadrupled - without any doubt The clothes off your back, or an arm or an ear Was what they took home for a small souvenir. The song writers sighed as they whittled out rhymes And just put it down as a sign of the times. I wake with a start from my reverie ' s fog To hear someone singing about someone’s dog. The Lord only knows where it’s all gonna get us But we’ll just be brave and not let it upset us If we’ve survived massacres, riots and wars W T e’ll never surrender to thirty-two bars. And for you few folks who are in the profession This interested bystander makes a confession In spite of the bring downs and kicks that are in it I want you to know that I ' ve loved every minute.