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

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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'

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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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.rri -BAYLEY F e .. -L .C -.--,r,,.,,,,, W,,, , ,,f,,, W JV in America and I have a proposition to make, Helen, if I am permitted. Instead of my speech, suppose each one stands and looks toward you, when you mention the name to Marie. Know you! Of course she will. She must. Tell her too, just what each is doing in this big world. Yes, yes, another time. Look your handsomest, Fred, old boy. Here's Marie. The brilliant square of light before me gradually filled with moving shadows, and ah-a beautiful room, a table resplendent with lights, crys- tal, silver, roses, surrounded with the smiling faces of men and Women. Why, surely I knew them. I Hello, hello, Marie. No need to tell you I'm Helen Collins. John has said so already. Is your reception clear? Yes. Then smile at the guest on my right, Virginia, the famed Virgardag on my left, is Fred Cum- mings, the head of the Bureau of Forestry. 'Member he said one time he was going to prune trees? Well, he's done it and more. This lady is Helen Ryan, Mrs. Goldsmith, wife of the President of the Aeroplane Craft. Yes, just the same Helen. Look well at our Attorney General, William Dempsey. No, I couldn,t believe it either at the time. Senora Bianca from Chile. You've guessed it correctly, Maria Camisa. Oh! those two! Don't you remember Mary Prendergast and Anna Whelan? By a strange twist of fate, both are single, happy and in All Souls' Hospital. All Souls! Why, my dear, it is the hospital of the country. Anne is the Superintend- ent, and Mary is head dietician. Indeed, they are. Salute your colonel, Goodwin Camisa. Heis stationed at Washington. Surely, he will. There, he returns your greeting with a salute. Lucky you! Why, thatis our Mary Hourihan. Never married. Too busy, like yourself, with her ca- reer. On your way home visit the Louvre to see her last painting. Let me think. It's called The Drag. Isn't television the comfort? Practical indeed, but expensive, but then, what's expense when it buys this won- derful day. Wanted to have dinner but John said he couldn't manage to be present at the hour so we have luncheon-and see and hear you both. 'Bob' says he's a coach of college coaches. Trains them. You know the attraction of the country now is Seton Hall University. Bob's there. Isn't Frank Manning the tallest flgure on your square? At last he's in Rome, at least, his picture is. Didn't he hate Latin long ago! He's the biggest man in the D. L. W. Electrics today. My dear, prepare to laugh. Francis Reilly, the sturdy figure midway at my table and beside him Francis Dunlap, both of them-oh do get this--both of them are mining engineers in South America, and they speak Spanish fluently. There! your laugh has made you lose that tired drawn expression. Too much work. Drop it and come home to us. They are teachers like you, pardon me, professors, all three-Mary Chapman, Frances Pearce, Gertrude Geary. Ask them. Columbia, Fordham, St. Elizabeth. Yes, yes, Irene is there. That is one reason for Gertrude's being a member of the Faculty. Who? Not clear. Oh, Anne Mahoney. Yes, indeed. My dear, Anne is 71 .. , ,.. Q h K ,fwfr ,-- .A .X ., ,,,, . . - ---.- W . ...... A- . Y . fig. ' Ns .f,,1.f.i,i-L....,-.-...-.. ,-...1..D3...3 ..-,--,-...ij:.iwSTf? . aa.