Bayley Ellard High School - Mitre Yearbook (Madison, NJ)

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jffiiiff'-sqj ...UE . , .,..., lv I f ' CLASS PROPHECY T Rome, it was, at the Vatican Library, where I had gone to do research work in the interest of Noxford University, recently endowed by the Carmen Goldere Fund-one million dollars. For two hours, I had been taking notes from manuscripts yel- lowed by age, to help me with the book I was completing, The Where- fore of the Why . Disturbed by the sound of approaching footsteps, I impatiently pushed the manuscripts from me, while the pen in my hand trailed on. Who'd read my book or who,d understand? As I raised my head, I saw a gentleman with graying hair, evidently an American by his dress, and one of the Vatican guides. Glad recogni- tion filled the eyes of the gentleman as with outstretched hand, he said, Mariel Miss Mott, don't you remember me? John O'Keefe of your old home town? I gasped, stared, and stammered, But how ---- P I'm here at the Vatican Television Station. Today, we had a very nice adjustment, the Holy Father speaking from his desk in the Vatican to an assembly of bishops and priests in New York City, was not only heard and seen by them but, he saw and recognized many of the faces of his listeners. Yes, John continued, for he saw my puzzled frown, I am President of the American Television Company. I had an audience with the Holy Father, a week ago. Talked nothing but television. Of course, through an interpreter. I was delighted to arrange the visual communi- cation. And what a coincidence, Marie! Pardon me, Miss Mott. In an hour I am scheduled to be televisually present at a luncheon dinner given in honor of Virgarda, the world's greatest violinist. Ah, now you smile in memory of other days. Virginia Garland, that's she. She's been living quietly in Morristown since the death of her husband, Monsieur Char- denal. Today is the tenth anniversary of her debut in Carnegie Hall. The very wealthy Mrs. Nemo, Helen Collins, of course, is enter- taining her. Covers are to be laid for thirty. Jove, it's good to. see you Marie, to get this off to one I know will appreciate it. The guests are old classmates of '31. Thirty? I interposed. We were forty-two. I am ashamed to con- fess that the years I've spent browsing among books and manuscripts as a dull professor, have made me lose all contact with the sweetest home friendships. Why, I don't know what has become of the twelve. No, nine. I can account for you now, naturally for myself, and there's the Goldere Research Fund. Imagine anyone like Carmen devoting a million to research work! Looking for all he missed in dear old Bayley, laughed John. Now, let me see, if the nine will blush into life at the sound of their names. Tom Kavanagh? For years he has been in Atlanta, Georgia. Father Kava- nagh is loved throughout the state by the colored folk. My, the Work 69 , QE, EEE 3

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- ,s . .... , E E s ' V H3 A Y E xiii . , L7-l-Fx . g V MD! ITL! Twenty-seventh: Helen Collins wills to Margaret O'Hara her office as keeper of the Daily Doings at Bayley. Twenty-eighth: Patrick Cullen leaves the Black Chargerv to Ed- ward Barry. Free transportation for all who get there first is the slo- gan, Ed. Twenty-ninth: To Philomena Danzi is left Rita Beneville's dramatic ability and a set of rules for the prudent disposition of the weekly allow- ance. Thirtieth: Officer James Duff resigns his post as School Ofiicer to John Pentony. A big shining badge goes with the honor and a whistle. Blow Johnny, blow, make the wild children careful. Thirty-first: Ben Hallihan leaves his inexhaustible supply of witti- cisms that have made even our stern Mentor smile to Mary Kenney. Thirty-second: To Thomas Stewart we leave the ever ready spirit of cooperation possessed at present by Francis Dunlap. Guard it well, Peanut, as it is priceless-when one becomes a Senior. Thirty-third: Mary Prendergast bequeaths to Arthur Romaine her torrential flow of speech. Thirty-four: Paul Goodwin Camisa leaves to Tony Appio his diplo- matic manner of reconciling the team to the schedule. Thirty-fifth: To Edward Leary, John O'Keefe leaves his 90's in Chemistry. ' Thirty-sixth: Catherine Petrozzo bequeaths to Francis Cullen her lucid explanations of men prominent in English Literature. I think it was her father. Thirty-seventh: To Ann Hopkins, Dorothy Logan and Marion Delp leave an I. O. U. to purchase the daily dozen of Dixie Cups. Thirty-eighth: To Catherine Lake, Gertrude Geary and Eleanor Gordon bequeath their charming manners and sweet dispositions. Thirty-ninth: To Frances King, Marguerite Higgins leaves her wil- lowy figure. We do hereby constitute and appoint Sister Geraldine to be the sole executrix of this, our last will and testament. In witness whereof we have hereunto set our hands and seal this eighteenth day of June in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred thirty- one. THOMAS FRANCIS KAVANAGH, IRENE ELAINE KELLY, CARMEN JOHN GOLDERE, JOHN RAYMOND BONNAVIAT. HELEN MARIE RYAN, '31, 68

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on W ,f -rv ,XX ' .S . 1. tw' e a T heis done! My scientific discoveries are nothing compared to the knowl- edge of Christ given by him to those simple peoplef, Somewhere, I recall now,,' I said, that I heard Agnes Chapman was a Carmelite nung and Irene Kelly did write me a letter. I was too busy at the time to answer it. I know about her. She is Sister Marie Elaine, Dean of St. Elizabeth College in Jersey. I must get a letter off to her tomorrow. There,s Kathryn Miller. She won't be presentf' rejoined John. Her husband-no, not John Bonnaviat. John is a busy bachelor engaged in 'frenzied Hnance' in Wall Street. Kit's .husband is the wealthy Mr. Bur- wood. Kit and he are touring Switzerland. What about the Duff twins?,' I asked curiously. Ha, now youive said it, laughed John. Do you mean to tell me that you have not heard of the Cullduff car? Why, John and James, and Pat Cullen are rolling in money and in cars, thanks to their clever man- ager, Edmund Hallinan and their shrewd corporation lawyer, Rita Benevillef, Oh, so Rita did become a lawyer. How strange she should be em- ployed by the Twins, I said. Here John looked at his watch. Just time left for a walk to the Television Station. Come with me, Marie. I'll arrange that you, too, will be televisually present at Helenis luncheon. You will be the surprise guest. Thank you John, but--- 'But me no buts., Wasn't it the 'Bard of Avon, who said that? To share the joy and thrill that will be yours when you talk and actually see them and they see the renowned writer, Marie Mott, is a pleasure I wouldnit exchange for the presidency of the U. S. A. The guide smiled as we passed from the Library on our way to the Television Station. My heart skipped a beat or two as we entered a long room decorated in restful grays. Chairs, and a small table beside each chair, seemed to be the only furniture. John spoke quietly to one of the attendants, for such I presumed him to be, and immediately chairs were arranged for us both. I found myself facing a large square on the opposite wall. Take the receiver, Marie, and watch the square on the wall, ordered John. As I did so, a silvery bell chimed. At the same instant, the wall was flooded with brilliant light. Hello, hello, everybody, I heard John say. I've a surprise for you tonight, or rather this afternoon. Virgarda, as guest of honor, has a rival. Today in the Library here, I came across Marie Mott. Talked over old times. Asked her to come to the luncheon with me. She's here beside me. It's great to see you all. How long? Sixteen years since Marie was 70 X ifyif 'Mk'