Bay Ridge High School - Maroon and White Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 51 text:

we later discovered was about fifty cents too much. We arrived back in London at eight o'clock in the evening. What a day! We felt more at home in the city, however, than in any other place, although we nearly went crazy figuring out which of the millions of buses to take where. But it's such a relief to have people speak English again. We were in luck the first day, because there was a celebration of the King's birthday. The Queen Mother, Queen Elizabeth and the two little princesses drove down the Mall in an open carriage. George and his brothers, the Dukes of Kent and Gloucester followed on horseback. It was a broiling hot day, but still, droves of people turned out to see their royalty pass. We tried to take movies of the procession, but a woman's head kept getting in the way, so we wouldn't be surprised if our photography showed the body of a horse with the head of that woman. Right now we're in Scotland, but we haven't seen enough of it to tell you any of the details. But we do know that it's plenty cold, and can't imagine how those Scots keep warm in their plaid kilties. We are planning to sail on the Berengaria on the 26th, so we'll see you soon. Remember us to all the girls. Love, HELEN and NORMA. . Continued from Page 66l Your interests widened and you learned the meaning of versatility . . . there were so many things you could do. The grade athletes like Iean Carlson and the Van Wynen twins were crowing over a baseball game in which they were Victorious over the seniors! That made you feel that maybe you weren't so unimportant after all. You took journalism and decided you wouldn't be a writer despite Childhood ambitions to that effect . . . You were a little afraid of Mr. Serota and two totally new words . . . llconcrete and Hspecitic . . . The dramatic clubs and the Choral Club called you. You found that acting made you gain in poise and that singing was a lot of fun under Miss Williamson's baton. Then part time came along like a dark cloud on the horizon. The rumour hit you that grade parties would have to be eliminated. You were indignant. Miss Sullivan was indignant. You held a meeting and decided that, by fair means or foul, you'd have your grade parties. And have them you did. People in your grade were doing things and being noticed. Wanda Wisniewski was reelected Grade President. Peggy Gillespie was the up- and-coming Managing Editor of the llRidge Echo. Thomasina Findlay was running for a G. 0. office. Anne Crutchley was taking laurels for her beauty and charm, while Shirley Johnston was helping Peggy out with the HEcho. One hundred-three

Page 50 text:

lContinued from Page 69l Don't believe a word of those descriptions about the beauty ot Venice. In the daytime there's not a single thing worth mentioning except Saint Mark's and the Doge's Palace, but at night, it's much nicer. We'd always thought that one had a handsome singing gondolier who smoothly and gracefully paddled lovers around the waters, but what a let-down! The gondoliers are generally old and dirty, and as for looking graceful while they maneuver their oars, you can imagine how ours fit that picture while he rowed the eight of us around. You see, some American friends in the hotel had joined us and none of us were lightweights. We couldn't decide whether to go to our next destination, Paris, by train or automobile. We finally chose the latter way and made arrange- ments with a Cockney chauffeureReggieeto drive us up. He was as good as a professional guide, pointing out all the places of interest. We spent one day and one night in the Tyrolein a beautiful hotel amidst the Tyrolean Alps. From the back wall of the dining room, which was entirely of glass, you could see a beautiful snow-covered mountain. In the winter, tourists come from all over the world to ski here. Since Reggie had taken an active part in the Battle of Verdun, he spent hours explaining the battle maneuvers and the life of the soldiers to us. His story was brought vividly to life by the sight of the battle fields of Verdun and the soldiers' cemeteries. Also there was a Bayonet trench where a whole battalion, ready to go over the top, had been buried alive by the impact of a bombshell on the top of the trench. Before we get too gruesome, we'll take you to gay Paree, and there's no doubt about it, it really is gay. We were out all day and half the night eating at sidewalk Cafes, prowling through the artist quarter, panting up to the top of Notre Dame, and wearily trying to make our two years of French understandable to the natives. We should have had Odette Adams along. I think we would have died of shock had we gotten to the third floor when we asked for llle troisieme etage. The elevator always seemed to comprendre, mais il ne peut pas nous y porter. The big surprise about Paris, in our minds, was the fact that Parisian women with all their Molyneux, Patous, Lelongs and Schiaperellis werent half as snappy as New York women. You' re probably wondering about our channel crossing. We were hoping for a nice rough trip, but it was as calm and as uneventful as a ferry ride to Staten Island. A couple of days later we recrossed the Channel but this time it was much more thrilling, because, believe it or not, we flew to Holland in one of the huge plants of the Dutch air line. It's hard to comprehend, but we left London at 7:00 a.rn., arrived in Holland in an hour and twenty minutes, spent the clay in the Hague, Rotterdam, and Delft. A friend gave us a handful of money, put us on a trolley, and told us to stay on till the end of the line. We went up to a sort of refreshment stand, similar to the ones they have at Coney Island, and, after about and held out all of the money we had. He took what he wanted, which One hundred-two

Page 52 text:

HDear Diary, I was tapped todayel' runs the next note in your journal of remembrances. Arista. Golden candles and breathless silence Girls looking upward with shining eyes . . . to the highest goal . . . Cleaving to the ideals of Character, Scholarship, and Service. Ideals that will mold their lives forever after. Term Seven came along and bumped into you. You suddenly realized that you were seniorsewell, practically. You had a grade paper of your own: iiHi-Lites, edited so efficiently by Geraldine Natoli. Life was a busy affair, teeming with interest. You were told you could have no Seven-Eight party . , . again because of Htime and space conditions. There was no place for you to rehearse. What of that? you asked independently. You were more sure now, more poised. You looked around and found the Gas Company where genial Mr. Van Buskirk presidedeand rehearsals began. It was the first Seven-Eight party ever held outside of the school. You were proud of that showeHBoss Meets Gir1 eand of the fine spirit of the grade in presenting it. You hadn't known that Dorothy Bloom, Audrey Hoag, Alice Pearsall and Grace Kelly were such troupers. Ann Hardie at the piano created the real ttBroadway musical atmosphere. Mary Lutfy sang in a manner reminiscent of Frances Langford . . . The senior grade applauded you . . . G. 0. elections took place and you made posters and campaign speechesedespite the rulese-and you went to bed to pray that the senior grade would get in. Grace Kelly was elected Secretary of the G. O. and Thomasina Findlay, Treasurerefor which you let out three rip-roaring cheers. And then, you were a senior. And most of the fun of being a Senior was Senior Day. How you roared at Doris Bash in her red flannels, Bea Thien in her Nineties bathing costume, and Anne Crutchley as a Country plumber trying to make good in the city. You frolicked and thought: This is my last fling. Tomorrow I'll have to buckle down to Economics. You had responsibilities . . . You wanted to graduate high in your class. Q, the nice, unforgetable things you began to notice about your class- mates now that you were near leaving them. Pat Conrad's lovely, thrilling voice . . . Marian Mullen's lovely personality . . . Margaret Lund's ability and willingness . . . Dagmar Hubinette and Miriam Fabian, whom you began to class with the geniuses . . . Midge Bixby's warmth and loveliness . . . Mildred Edlich's all-around perfection . . . The Senior Prom. You went sophisticated in black with orchids and had the grandest time imaginable. You thought Miss Sullivan the most beautiful person imaginable . . . and Mrs. Miller the most gracious and poised . . . And as the days went oneso quickly-you walked more slowly in the halls and held everything closer to you. You began to realize that they were almost goneethe joyful hours. It was but yesterday that you entered One hundred-four