Barnard School for Boys - Bric Yearbook (Fieldston, NY)

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. , 4 7 ss 9 nr .- Class Prophecy t , LW WINCED as he gave his verdict. i With your teeth in that condition, Sam, he said. My advice to you i my kd: both as your dentist and your friend is to go to New York and be treated f-'bits'-L, by that famous specialist Harold Frees. f A Twenty-five years of living in London had dimmed my memory of New York quite a bit, but nevertheless the name Harold Frees struck a familiar chord. Harold Frees, I mused. Why of course, Barnard! The class of thirty-four! I decided then and there to make the trip. The boat schedule made it imperative that I make my plans with great haste, so hastily in fact, that I rushed aboard the boat with the shrieking of the final whistle ringing in my ears. As our graceful streamlined ship glided out of its berth I leaned against the rail and smiled as I realized that during my hectic rush for tickets and visas I had not even found out the name of the liner. I glanced at the nearest life- preserver. 'iCharlotte , it announced. My goodness , I said, grabbing the nearest steward by the hair and throwing him at my feet, who designed this ship? , Theodore L. Ferris, sir , he answered. I might have known. The second day out, I felt the need of a little exercise and upon enquiring the whereabouts of the deck tennis and shuflleboard I was informed that these games had been eliminated in favor of a new and more exciting sport, and that the inventors were up on the poop deck exhibiting their new pastime. I was rewarded for my walk to the poop deck by the sight of four portly gentlemen with kind faces fEditor's Note: What kind?j who were tearing hither and thither around the deck tossing a rubber ball from one to the other. A scoreboard at one end informed the spectators that L.I.U. was leading Upsala by three points. just then a whistle blew indicating a rest period and I called to the contestants who gave up all thoughts of the game when they recognized me. Peters! Rush! Moran! and good old Kanovitch. Gee whiz, it's been twenty-five years since we saw you, said Peters. Yeah, it seems like only twenty-five years, added Kanovitch. It took me little time to find out that Kanovitch was returning from a command crooning performance before the King and Queen of Bulgaria, and had taken his manager Lester Moran along with him. They had planned the trip so that Peters, who had just finished a long Broadway engagement playing opposite Katherine Hepburn, the grand old lady of the stage, and Charlie Rush, who was taking a needed rest from counting towels in his laundry, could go along with them. The landing at New York was uneventful except for the fact that the usual rig- marole of getting through the customs was facilitated by the welcome aid of Inspector Phelps, head of the customs department. My surprise at seeing him was softened by the remembrance of his knowledge of tariffs and customs rules while at Barnard. My first thought was to go and see Ted and impose upon him the role of guide. I found him in his office. You're looking older, he remarked after we had disposed of the usual greetings. Never mind the reparteej' I answered. Tell me about someof our former classmates. That's easy, he said. Take a look at this suit, look at the label-Kenneth Rolph, Fifth Avenue. And look at that sunburn-the Faiella Dude Ranch. And do Tl-lEl934BARNARDBRIC