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Page 17 text:
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((pJwph af QimiinusjcL) are Jim Horah and Bill Poplin, business administrators, shooting a friendly game. Jim Rodgers and Jim Kluttz, two well-known engineers, are trying to advance a theory on why the acceleration is lessened by fric¬ tion and the useful component is greater, when Jim Kluttz, the big Diesel engineer, puts bottom right English on the cue ball. Glancing at my watch, I see it is time for the special train to arrive, the one carrying my ole school chums from all parts of the world. I rush out, flag a taxi, and give my destination as the depot, which is now much larger and is not where it was in ’49. On the ride I notice “Cobb ' s Store,” owned by Ethel Cobb, and coming out of it in a straw hat, farmer, Jerry Whitaker. “Stop the cab,” I cry; then I shoot the bull with Jerry a little bit, finding him to be very successful. I ask him to come to the depot with me, but he has to milk the cows and slop the pigs. We part, promising to see each other tonight. As the taxi cruises along, I see that beautiful drive-in theatre called the “Circle” owned by Don Byerly, Lamont Hess and Bill Link. Why here’s the “Boyd Dog Pound for Cocker Spaniels.” I hear Ann raises lots of blue ribbon winners. Just think, this started because she got a little black pup her senior 3 ear in Boyden. At last, here’s the depot and Engineer Bill Trexler has just pulled the train in. The first person to step off the train is Art Patterson, President of the Kiwanis International. He is followed by Bob Hall, the chem¬ ist who invented the light bulb that would never burn out. The main reason was that he couldn’t ever get it to burn. Oh, there’s Jo Ann and Grady Hilliard. Grady has been pitching steady ball for the Cardinals in the last few seasons. Jo Ann is now kept busy cleaning house and throwing pop bottles at umpires. Eugene Atkins, the Lucky Strike Tobacco Auctioneer, steps off the train singing, “Smoke a Lucky.” I ask him for a cigarette; he pulls out a pack of Camels and gives me one. Thanking him, I notice William Kesler, the Atomic Bomb scientist, stepping off. Next comes Eleanor Weber, head of the Campfire Girls of America, and Eleanor Shumaker, just back from Hollywood. Last but not least come Shirley Peeler and Carolyn Snead, both missionaries just back from Hung Chow, China. My, they look cute in kimonos. Greeting each other, we start on the way to our Alma Mater, B. H. S. Arriving at the Boyden Stadium, which incidentally was started our Senior year, we pile out of the cars anxious to see a demonstration of talent which consists only of people from the class of forty-nine. We take our seats in the bleachers and the Rev. David Arlendo Staley opens our reunion with the devo- tionals. Following him, there are many songs, acts, etc., some of which I especially like. The opener is a piano trio played by Molly Griggs, Margaret Heck, and Frances Thompson, all famous pianists. The compo¬ sition was written by Joe Durham. There is a short wait while Leon Chao tunes each piano, but no one minds this. The next act is David Honeycutt and his thorn jumpers. Boy! What talent! David always was a favorite with us. Mary Ida Drye and Mary Jo Reid, the two opera stars, sing next. A little later in the show comes the real excitement. Those two famous showmen, “Suicide Kizziah” and “Lucky Hobson,” are getting ready to give us a death-defying fete. They are asking for a volunteer from the audience. Jack Hollis, the Veterinarian, is going down front. Kizziah is strapping him in the hood of a “souped up” ’35 Packard, while Hobson warms up the motor. He now lights the straw barricade, soaked with kerosene. Bob Ritchie, the special mechanic, checks the motor. Sonny Carpenter, the super-duper in¬ surance salesman, runs down front to sell Dr. Hollis a policy. Hollis has trouble signing on the dotted line since he is strapped to the car, but Jules, Jr., never misses a sale. Meanwhile, Paul Cheney is down close, writing up this act for tomorrow’s sports column. There they go through the flaming barricade and it’s over. Doctor Bobby Hall leaves his nurse, Jane Boyd, who has fainted, and runs down to see if Hollis is all right; he is. After all that, we go into the gym to dine and dance. The gym is decorated with flowers from the shops of Frank Kimbrough and Flora Hayworth. The housewives of our class, Betty Rinehart, Barbara Overcash, Annie Kearns, and Becky Cauble have given their children to Miss Jones, who is now a little grey around the temples. Miss Jones is still teaching at Boyden and we know she will take good care of the kids as our class voted her the best teacher in ’49. Near me sit Engineers Harry Heilig and Kenneth Foster. Terry Barringer of the F. B. I. and His Honor. Governor Ben D. McCubbins, Jr., are shooting the breeze. Beryl Lewis, Joyce Cline, Eunice Stoner. Doris Koontz, and Sally Grubb, who are all telephone operators, are talking to their big boss. Glenn Peeler. Sec¬ retaries Pat McCurdy and Doris Bean are here, too. I am sitting beside Jerry Honeycutt, a foreman of the Southern Railway. The dinner tonight is being served by “Candy Hall’s Cafe,” owned by Nancy and served by its all girl waiters, cooks, etc. The girls handing out this tempting food are Rose Kesler, Frances Ann Kesler. and Betty Lou Yarbrough. Hugh Preble, the composer, is really eating. He is just about broke from working on “Preble’s Third Movement,” which he finished today. But all great composers must hit the rough spots. And now, after eating, we dance to the music of “Hot Lips Haynes and His Horney Hornets” includ¬ ing all of the successful musicians, E. J. Beck, Johnnie Farmer, Vincent Woodford and vocalist, Caroline Bar¬ ringer. Tom Llewellyn, the rich pro of the country club, is dancing with everyone’s wife tonight, but no one seems to mind. As I sit talking to Bill Lippard, basketball coach at Catawba, it grows into the wee hours of the night. Getting ready to depart, Rev. Staley gives the benediction and we sing Auld Lang Syne. And while singing that song and thinking of the fun we have had in this dear old school, I believe tears come into every eye, even Jim Rusher ' s the undertaker. ’Til we meet again, ROBERT CANUP, Prophet
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Page 16 text:
“
(pAOph SJj, Here it is 1959 and as the big super jet plane pulls in for the landing, the two beautiful hostesses, Pat Lomax and Anne Harter, who made my trip so pleasant, notify me that I ' m back in the grand ole town of Salisbury. Going up to commend the pilots on smooth flying, I find to my amazement, Dwight Shoe and his co-pilot. Jack Misenheimer. They say it is easy to fly the D. L. -49, designed by the Haithcock Guthrie Drafting Company. I ask why it is called the D. L. -49; they say that it was named after Don Leonard, the famous test pilot, and that 49 was for our great class. As I walk from the plane, I see several transport planes and painted on their sides I notice: Shaw’s Transfer. Coast to Coast.’’ I hail a cab and hop in: there under the wheel is Richard Seagle. Richard quickly explains that he owns the cab company and is just riding around for fun. I comment on the nice cab he has: he tells me that it is the new Keply-Mobile; that the engine, invented by George Chambers and Charlie Creason, is called the hydra-flu-over-matic-dyna-super-ramic. It will do two hundred miles an hour and get forty miles to a gallon of kerosene. As we pull into town. I can’t help noticing the “Tillie Ford Motor Company” owned by Grace Woodson. Richard tells me that the managers here are Norman Ingold and Floyd Holt. Bob Chandgie is in charge of the super-service station attached to this huge business. Tillie’s business is sparked by women salesmen as a drawing card. The girls who sell innocent men these cars are Barbara Seagle, Virginia Pepper, Eugenia Jones, and Maretta Eagle. Bob Gardner, now a professor at Catawba College, once walked in with his mind set on nothing but a new Ford convertible and these girls sent him away driving a “T” model Ford. What salesmen! Going down Main Street, I see familiar names and faces. I see Fry and Shuping ' s Super Market” doing a booming business, with Anne Shoaf managing their business. The Big Star and A P are going bankrupt. Ah, here’s Belk-Harry’s with Bob Lee out front rubbing his hands together and drumming up business. He really came out to make sure his assistant manager, Bill Ervin, washes the windows well. I tell Richard I’ll see him tonight and walk over to Bob. We shake hands and he tries to sell me the store. I convince him that even sales ladies like Zannie Brower, Frances Nesbit, and Mary Alton Huneycutt can’t sell me anything; then we talk awhile. Bob also shows me a few offices of our classmates who are making good. The first one is Levenson’s Language Bureau. Bernice teaches seventeen different languages very well, but sometimes she starts talking in all seventeen at once and no one can understand her. He also points out Bill Peeler ' s Sporting Goods Store,” which is having a sale on ladies’ golf shoes, to stomp hus¬ bands with. Hmmmmmmmm here comes Julia Gill, the Gill popcorn, crackerjack, peanut and cheesecracker millionaire. She has bought one of Bill’s bargains. Oh, there’s Sergeant Raymond Ritchie of the Salisbury Police Force, grabbing Harry Spry, who is dressed only in his long undies. Let’s listen in. Harry is saying he walked in that Pawn Shop across the street to sell an item and thinks he’s lucky to have gotten out with his underwear. We look across the street at a large sign over Ihe entrance; it reads: Harry Blount’s Hock Shop. We Also Sell Lemeco Paint.” That Blount must drive a hard bargain. Through the window I see Barbara Mowery, his attractive secretary. Moseying on down the street I see two attractive signs. The first reads, Tate’s Beer Distributors—We Have Beer In Every E ' orm—In Cans, In Bottles, In Kegs, In Cases, On Tap, and On Our Breath. Buy It Here. The second sign I’m looking at is even more amusing. Bobby Lewis seems to own this large furni¬ ture house but instead of it being called L S like his father’s, it has just the letter L. His sign reads, If You Want Good Furniture, Go To L.” Incidentally, inside the store I see some high class salesmen, Eugene Dilliard and Kenneth Foster, also secretaries, Beulah Honeycutt and Peggy Peeler. Bam! Just as I walk off, some woman driver rams into another car. Lonnie Propst of the local police runs over to investigate the accident; here comes Flash Bulb Netttles” of the Salisbury Post jitterbugging down the street, taking pictures from every angle. I rush over to the accident to find driving, none other than the D. A. R. good citizen, Carolyn Miller. Lonnie gives her a ticket and I say hello to her. She parks the car and we walk down to the Court House. Then as only she could do it, she talks Judge “Bubby Powers into tearing up the ticket. As we walk up the street, she tells me that she and Frances Nicol are gym directors at Boyden. Some others who have come back to Boyden are Nancy Moose. Music, Bill Hardister, Coach; Don Brock, Shop; Mary Ann Sturkey, Head of the English Department; Eugenia Jones, Commercial Subjects; and Rosemary Adkins, Secretary. Finding ourselves in front of Frances Moore ' s Drug Store,” we drop in and find it is running over with forty-niners. Among the familiar faces are Arthur Smith ' s and Hayden Holshouser’s of the North Carolina Finishing Company, largest of its kind in the world. Barbara Yancey, assistant manager of the Hunt Dry Cleaners, Inc., comes over to chat awhile. Barbara tells me that Gertrue Allen, Jean Allgood, Arline Butler, and Betty Eidson run a business school for young men and are very successful. They are teaching those guys a lot. In one booth I see Betty File, Helen Peeler, Mary Gheen, and Ruth Dunham, all of whom are beauti¬ cians. They nave closed up their shop today to celebrate homecoming. I’m informed that Agnes Nassar who is donating some of her finest wines for the dance owns a large fruit and wine market. Here come Nancy Jo Miller and Betty Booker .both Art Editors for that big magazine, “The Hee Haw!” After I have spoken to them, I excuse myself from all of these females. I long again to hear those cue sticks crack and get that smoke in my eyes. In other words, I’m going over to “Salley’s Heavenly Haven” (that is how the sign reads). Jack coaches football in the daytime and pool at night. I take a deep breath of fresh air and walk in. There’s ole Jack, puffing on a stubby cigar and racking the balls for General Charles Rimer of the U. S. Army and Eugene Cauble, now with the Southei ' n Bell Telephone Company. On the second table
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