Belleville High School - Monad Yearbook (Belleville, NJ)

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LOCKING THROUGH THE COACH WINDOWS OACH 302-Murder thrillers packed with suspense have nothing on 302. After the late bell rings you will find certain fugitives literally crawling to their seats to escape the watchful eye of Miss Sandford while the class sits with in-drawn breath. Red , our music maker, always finds a good orchestra to break the monotony of a long homeroom study period. Did you ever see that dreamy look in her eye when she hears a song about a soldier boy? Upon hearing a story about hitch hiking Harry B. remarked, lt must be thumb fun. Don't judge him too harshly by that one. He has scads of better ones. lAt least that's what he tells us.l Ours might well be called a knitting room. The needles click for Britain and if you see someone all wound up in four needles and a ball of wool you know that someone is going to have a pair of socks. For further reference see Hugh O'Toole. lf there seems to be a shortage of the male animal just open the cloak room door and see them pour out. Why? Your guess is as good as ours. Coach 303--The much publiciied homeroom in assemblies because of our lack of co- operation in buying Defense Stamps. Embarrassment due to this and also a feeling of patriotism caused us to increase our sales to a point where we could hold our heads high once more. How well we all remember that tearful day when Mr. Jones, one of our best-liked teach- ers, departed for the army. Our homeroom, as well as his history classes, saw to it that he didn't leave empty-handed but loaded down with goodbye gifts. Those letters from Our Mr. Jones were eagerly awaited. And how proud we all were the day we learned he was one of the few to be put in the C. W. S. We know he'll be glad too that Mr. Donovan is doing such a swell job in carrying on . Of course, you all know our celebrity from 303, Nick Cocco, who acted in the Senior Play as Lou Max and did an excellent job. Then, of course, there was our drummin' man , Will Cipperly, not to mention all the rest of a truly grand homeroom. Coach 304- Everyone in his seat till l get this attendance report. That's the cry we heard every morning as Mr. Walker tried to round us up for a day's work. But did we hear him or follow instructions? Why, of course, we did. All except a few exclusive individuals who soon became charter members of that 2:50 club. Remember how, as spring came on, this room suddenly became a mecca for a number of enthusiastic baseball fans who followed the daily papers with shouts of, What did the Dodgers make yesterday? or Whom did the Yankees beat now? We don't forget how three feminine members of 304 also became ardent fans and helped follow the scores too. Now will the memory of the antics of two certain sheiks ever leave us for long. They helped to liven many hours during those long homeroom periods. And those daily communiques which Mr. Walker put on the board still make us laugh when we think of them. Often they contained some pretty bad news for some of our class. But the thing which shall always stand out in our minds is the memory of all those air- planes which seemed to take up space in our room. Every day our friends expected us to come flying out with wings on after living for so long in such an air-minded place. But we survived it alll Coach 306- Remember Pearl Harbor may be the slogan for today, but for tomorrow it will be Remember Room 306. Who could ever forget it? Mr. Wilcox, with his great school spirit, taking pride in having so many well-known figures in his homeroom, our barber shop quartet, which always manages to let loose when others are attempting to study, the time a certain girl tripped another young miss who sprawled flat on her face in the middle of the aisle. Yes, many pictures flash through our minds as we reminisce. Will we ever forget Bob Kimble and his gring Charlie Howard with his, Any stamps today? , Kathy Haffner with her voice, Mildred Hornak with her, Does my hair look all right? , Virginia Hansen and Mebs Harris falling all over each other in attempts to sell Monads, Ernie Jordan with his envied half-day? Oh, yes, and Mr. Wilcox's famous buzzer announcing the close of the day. These are the memories high school is made of. They helped make our last year the happiest and gayest we've ever known.

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What a hectic year! Our moments were filled with innumerable pleas- ures leaving never a dull moment in our train of events. Then came the much publicized Sophomore Hop and again our efforts were met with suc- cess. And so, with a faint sigh of regret we rolled past our second milestone. Being a junior had its good points too, as we soon found out. First we attended to the business of electing our class officers. Johnny Higgins came through with the rank of president, Bill McNamara as vice-president, Doris Cassaday as secretary, and Jean Dailey as treasurer. To the Misses Linnea Andree, Helen Hollberg and Esther Kietzman we extend our thanks for their understanding guidance. The track ahead looked very promising, for in the dim distance loomed two great events-the Junior Draftee Shuffle and the Junior Prom. For the latter we borrowed a nautical theme from Neptune. The gym was spec- tacularily bedecked with huge sea monsters created by the ingenious Prom Committee. Our brief visit to Davy Jones' Locker was soon over but the pleasant memories of that evening will linger long for many of us. With the melody of Chattanooga Choo Choo ringing in our ears we took our places as senior passengers in the fall of l94l. As seniors, we officially took hold of things by electing John Higgins as president, Bob Kimble held the office of vice-president until March when John abdicated, thus making Bob president. Mabel Harris and Jean Bormann were secretary and treasurer. Again we were indebted to the faculty for their help. The advisers were Gregoria Condon, Alma Gray, L. Howard Fox, Elsie Sandford, Eleanor Rush, Harold Dufford, Robert Parker, Charles Schultz, Murray Wil- cox, Edmund Bond and Paul Jones. We started the year off with a zoom by holding the Victory Dance. It was Bloomfield's victory so we invited its team. Then came the Hallo- we'en Dance, and last but not least the Mid-Winter Frolic. By secret ballot Bob Kimble and Eleanor McGuire were chosen to preside over the affair as king and queen. Now as we swept down the track, we found ourselves amidst riotous preparations for the Senior Play. A mystery, Seven Keys to Baldpate , was to be featured. After strenuous rehearsals the play went into production on the evenings of March 26 and 27 with an all-star cast. We had been scheduled to make a stop at Washington, D. C., but ac- commodations were not available. So we regretfully put aside thoughts of seeing our capital this year. Nearer and nearer we drew to our final destina- tion, crowding in a few last minute events. Remember that delightful day spent at Rye Beach? But how could we forget! Remember too, the fare- well dinner and dance which the faculty so kindly sponsored. Our journey is now ended. But if we take the time to look back, it seems hardly possible that four years have passed since we first boarded the Knowledge Limited . And those four years might well be termed the best and most informative years of our lives. Although new passengers will fill our places and make the same observations, in years to come we'd like to feel that the Class of '42 won't be forgotten too soon.

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Coach 307-The noisiest room in the school-that's the reputation Homeroom 307 has earned for itself. And no wonder! Seniors from all homerooms have adopted 307 as their stamping ground. To compare the hilarious train of events to anything but a three-ring circus would be almost an impossibility. George R. Meyer snapping pictures for the Monad, baseball pools conducted by Duckey McDermott and Ebby Leonard, Margaret King trying to make an announcement, Muggs Maginness relating his tales about Saturday night, Miriam Lanno and Wini Lincoln trying un- successfully to beat the bell, the admiring girls that crowd around Harry Mueller, Frank Montarelli composing another poemp Bill McNamara and Bernice Lesser attempting to borrow homework at the last minute, and Dot Lontka and her gang of laughing friends. That's all in the past now, but it certainly was fun while it lasted. Our thanks to Mr. Parker for being such a good sport through it all. Coach 308-You'think tems can talk? Drop in the 308 and get an earful as the boys pull up their back fences and start the bag fest. They get under foot besides, so the superior beings called men are guilty of two effeminate crimes--chattering and always in the way. So, remember girls, 308 rings up a high score for us. Here's hoping our class doesn't straggle out late for graduation as we do noon times. There we are-teetering on the edges of our seats while Miss Gray demands the presence of the missing ones. lt's a case of Where's Lu? She was here this morning, wasn't she? while the class, in dog-like pants of exaggerated starvation, agree in mute agony. Barely audible, yet heard by our straining ears, Miss Gray says, All right! and is all but stampeded as the hungry pack runs for the door. Wedding bells have chimed twice for former 308'ers. The first toll was for Dixie in the beginning of the semester and the second was sounded during the following semester for Ruth. Here's to health and happiness. - Homeroom 308 has expressed definite emotions such as curiosity, hunger, love. Sympathy was brought into play when Mike hibernated in the hospital. He was bountifully supplied with fruit, magazines, ice cream, chewing gum and good wishes. Coach 309-The worst homeroom that Miss Condon ever had! Perhaps that accounts for our frequent vigils at 2:50, when we read the Bible and saluted the flag. Of course this is supposed to be done in the morning, but we had to be different. Shall we ever forget the day that we patiently awaited the moment for Robert Valentino's voice to come to us over the radio? Then when it did come we hooted and howled like the essence of unmannerliness. Terrible people, aren't we? Then there was that memorable pool our great homeroom had. The one person having the lowest citizenship mark was to win the pool. Then, imagine when marks came out we had to split the money four ways. Indeed, the worst homeroom is a well-deserved reputation to carry along. The bravery shown in 309 is truly remarkable. There was a day when Miss Condon asked a certain young man whether he had his report card. He courageously answered in subdued tones, Just a minute. l have to sign it. We wonder why he lowered his voice, perhaps he didn't want his teacher to hear. Coach 3lO-It's a sad farewell Homeroom 3lO bids each other as they depart from B. H. S. For four whole years they were always last on every list. To them it seemed as though whenever anything enjoyable was to happen the teachers would start at the top of the roll beginning with the Ns, but just let things not be so rosy and sure as your livin' they'd start with the Z's and proceed up the list. Oh, well, in spite of their having always to be on the tail end and the smallest Senior homeroom, they always managed to keep pace with all their classmates. They were one of the few rooms in their class who kept 'em flying when it came to buying war stamps and did not have to be scolded in assembly about them either. No one will ever forget the day one of the fairer sex brought in a stack of picture cards bedecked with beautiful women. Will you, gang? You must ask them about them for they certainly were find works of art. Well, here we are again, last on the list but never to be forgotten. EDIIDBIIIIIID UIIIIIUIIIIEUII lillll HHIIIEI l i .ns - .Liza -- f,a'::. -- -Z:-fro -Jin wvwwww