Burdett College - Burbad Yearbook (Boston, MA)

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History of the Secretaries of B urdett Two years ago, in September 1943, we made our momentous entrance into the heart of Boston, to Burdett, some of us traveling fifteen, twenty-five, or even hundreds of miles from out of state, to begin a new life—that of training to become successful businessmen and women. Our entrance was like the fall—everything We were young The spirit that goes with college life was missing. was so new and so different. and self-conscious, in a word, freshmen. We were unfamiliar—strangers among new friends. As the weeks passed, we overcame that chill of newness, that feeling of being out of place. Gradually, new acquaintances were formed, lasting friends acquired, and an air of peace and calm overtook our first fears. Now that graduation time has come, we cannot help but remember fondly our happy months here. Let us pause for a moment and think back. Remember: The dances put on by the sororities of Theta Alpha Chi and Phi Epsilon Sigma, the Medical Secretarial Students, and the Men’s Club, which were such huge successes, with the ever-burning thought in each girl’s mind, “Bring your own men, or come pre- pared for anything!”’ And, we hasten to add, de 28 there were no complaints afterwards, but strictly heavenly bliss for the most part. The Jeep that brightened many a hard- working, defense-stamp-seller’s heart when it bounced through Park Square with at least ten girls all aboard, grasping some part of its mechanism and holding on for dear life. We were favored each month with color- ful movies in the Club Room, at which time a report of the sale of defense stamps and bonds was given. What an aching heart and head those unbalanced balance sheets gave us along with those unfailing (and we do mean “failing’’) mastery and performance tests. That first report card which, we are sure none can forget, was sent home via mail. The Executive Secretarial class meetings, with the officers in charge presenting each month some form of enjoyable entertain- ment, and on one occasion in particular a very humorous Truth or Consequence show. The Blue Door—the eternal stopover be- fore classes, after classes, and lastly, during classes, much to the sorrow of Mr. Wells. However, a remedy was soon found for the latter, to the sorrow of the students. Each one of us will miss that coke or milk shake which many times lasted hours.

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Who's Who — Class of 1945 ee Most Popular Boy . Most Popular Girl . Best Looking Girl . Best Looking Boy Most Versatile Boy Most Versatile Girl Class Sweethearts Class Politicians Class Glamour Girl Class Genius Class Flirt Best Dancer (Girl) Best Dancer (Boy) Class Musicians Most Influential Class Artist . Class Athlete Class Style Setter . Most Dependable Most Sophisticated Women About Town Most Likely To Succeed . Class Heartbreaker (Girl) Class Heartbreaker (Boy) Class Wit Most Original Boy . Most Original Girl . Class Poet Best Smile Class Dreamer Peppiest Most Charming Most Considerate Burdett Rose 27 George Lightbody Constance Forrest Louise Hagan Robert Witham Verne Craig Helen Mackie {Marjorie Curtis | Blake Tennant {Lela Kanell Ethel Filios Gloria Sauer Adrienne Pepin Dorothy Clawson Rita Sergi Robert Witham {Charlie Stevens )}Concettina Rizza Betty Carter Ethel Filios Agnes Croft Virginia Wylie Marjorie Cutler Greta Lovgren Ruth Davis Alma McKenzie Marcia Wilkie Robert Witham Helen Barbadoro Victor Bonin Marjorie Coombs Constance Hatson Despa Boyages Jannette Finn Isabel Condoleo Betty Silver Mary Fidler Yvonne Vallatini

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rs FAistory of the Accountants of Burdett On September 8th, 1944, the portals of Burdett swung open to admit the hordes of incoming victims. How young, sweet—and ignorant we must have appeared with those vague, confused looks on our countenances. We stood about awkwardly, each feeling like the proverbial bump on the log, casting uneasy glances at our prospective comrades-in-arms. There was no one to whom to confide our thoughts; we were alone—each one of us alone in a crowd, lost in a sea of strange faces. Each one of us slunk to the nearest seat and flopped down, minus the grace that a young lady or gentleman should have acquired before ven- turing into a sophisticated college world. Arrayed in our bestest back-to-school apparel we thought we looked pretty nice—as the strangeness wore off and students were still pouring in, the femmes began to take in the surroundings, to be blunt—the men. As yet the male ranks hadn’t swelled to thei r present size but, those of us who were born under a lucky star, were blessed by Fate with a home-room in which actual men were as- signed. Within a day or two the cornerstone of many a lifelong friendship was cemented. The marking on the stone read ‘September, 1944”—a never-to-be-forgotten date. Chief among these friends was the faculty—ever helpful. Mr. Pulsifer, to use a nautical expres- sion, taught us “the ropes”, and before long well-supplied with ammunition (books, paper, pens, etc. etc.) we charged into battle. Our first taste of conflict was in Mr. Bridg- ham’s class where Einstein’s seventh dimension is considered mere child’s play. Figures, figures, and more figures; added, subtracted, divided and whistled at. (What am I saying?) And pen- manship—round and round, don’t move that thumb — another blot? — We invariably stumbled out of class cursing Mr. Faretra roundly under our collective breaths, gazing dejectedly at our poor ink-stained digits, and not much caring whether we ever graduated from our pathetic hen-scratchings to the status of a good penman. Then to Mr. Zoerner’s— were we glad that we had chosen an accounting course! That first day all we learned about accounting was that we were going to enjoy it immensely, that we were in love with the subject, mad about the liabilities and capital that our instructor expounded so earnestly. We threw ourselves wholeheartedly into this study. Then to the lunchroom—we weren’t very hungry but we skipped gayly down the four flights of stairs to the Club Room where we laid a few more of those aforementioned corner- stones; a couple of daring souls ventured to the upright and toyed around with the ivory keys; in a few moments a regular jam session was going full swing. Multi-colored bobby sox flew about to the rhythm of the conga, etc. After letting our hair down thusly, we decided that we were going to like this school and its inmates. Yielding to a sense of innate luxury we decided to celebrate this, our first day, by returning from lunch via the elevator. From our home-rooms we slid down the bannister to Mrs. Meany’s law class—torts, misdemeanors, -chey fell on uncomprehending ears. Over- heard during a lull in our first lecture—‘‘The only bar I’ll ever pass—’—the rest faded into an obscure whisper. However, a good imagina- tion lends the finishing touches to the remark. The rest of the week was one mad whirl, jour- nals, typewriters (all makes), statutes of law, rules for letter-writing, all were flung simultaneously at our young brains. The effect was amazing—for out of the chaos we emerged seasoned college students, far removed from the adolescents who graced high-school classrooms but a few short months before. We elected class officers, established a school magazine, riding, bowling and skating clubs, a new sorority, a men’s club, and for the first time in years undertook to put out a year- book. We've learned a lot, we grads of 1945, we've sweated a lot, worked a lot and worried a lot— but it was worth it. As we join the ranks of Burdett alumni, it is with a feeling of regret, yes, but with a certain pride in the things that we have accomplished and a hope that what we have begun will be loved, continued and improved upon by the confused, gauche- appearing boys and girls who, attired in their bestest, will enter the portals of Burdett when they are flung open in the falls to come.