Central Collegiate Institute - Ye Flame Yearbook (Regina, Saskatchewan Canada)

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Rosalie , a short one act play, was directed by Kathryn Mackie. Lindsay Treen as an English gentleman was excellent, while Elsie Halbwacks, playing the part of an obstinate maid added humor to the play. Mr. Hunt: What is cowhide used for? Florence Burns: To hold the cow together. Miss MacFarlane: What year was the war of 1812-14 fought, Harold?' Harold Chalf asleepb: In 1869? Elizabeth: Get out of my light, you're not opaque. Beatrice: Oh, yes I am, 'cause all the boy friends can see through me. Aileen K.: I heard a good joke on the phone last night. Anne M.: Did you get his number? Roy Bing Cdancing with Kay Mackielz I'm walking on clouds. Kay: Those are my feet. Gerald Gordon: I just got a letter from the nicest girl in the World. Lindsay Treen: I thought I told my girl not to write to anyone but me. Travel by Bus In Comfort Special Round Trip Rates enable Students to go home and return to school economically. FOR YOUR HOLIDAY-U lVlost scenic routes and lowest fares to all parts of America. cl-IECKER GREY:-louND LINES LIMITED 1812 ROSE STREET, REGINA PHONE 6655 86

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FCEM 3C Who are we, don't you see, We are the pupils of famous 3Cg Noted for the brains, ideas so bright, We never do anything that isn't just right. James McElroy-first in the class, He has the brains-if not the mass. Rex and Harry our big 'che men Good at sport if not with the pen. Florence and Lily our truants so gay, Who stay at home every other day. George, with the Rudy Vallee voice, Makes him every school girl's choice. Arlie and Ardyce, Aileen and Anne, Are all out to 'fget their man. The rest of the room are all so good, We always do what we're told we should, A better class you ne'er did see, Than Central's classy class-3C. We of 3C certainly live up to our name, we are cheerful, capable, clever and courageous. We are just a clean class that cares for comedy as well as credit for being able to cope with any situation that crops up in Central. We cherish our teachers, and though we cry for less homework we do not get in conflict with our conscience. Our conversation is carefully chosen so as not to clash with the laws of coherance. We concentrate on conquering confederation and are capable of correct calculation. We never clatter down the hall unless the coast is clear. No matter what Miss MacFarlane thinks about us we claim credit and feel confi- dent of getting our certificate. For the president we chose Harry Green. Kay Mackie is vice-president and Anne MacRae is an able secretary. 3C also claims some of the outstanding, not to mention outrunning and outjumping athletes of the school. Dot Cullum, Dorothy Doan and Anne MacRae are the girls. Harry Green and Rex Edwards are on the boys' rugby teams, and Leslie Waller brought the laughs from the crowd at our 1933-34 follies when he acted as a clown in the gym display. It would be unforgivable if we forgot to mention the actors and actresses of Form 3C. They are very clever, intelligent players, and without a doubt, if their ambitions are so inclined, within a few years their names will be blazing in lights of Holly- wood and Broadway?!!! The first play presented was Maker of Dreams, f' under the direction of Elizabeth McHattie. George Ring's rich tenor voice held the audience spellbound and certainly surprised all the 3C's present because only a few weeks before we all heard George loudly proclaim, I can't sing. 85

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FORM 3D 3D! The name of a glorious form that in years to come will stir our hearts with precious memories. When we are old and grey the vision of that room will rise again before our eyes, those walls with their blackboards that forever needed cleaning, C Jack and John had such short memoriesl 5 those inkstained floors, Whose beauty was not enhanced by the bottles of ink which crashed so often, when Harry, Harvey or Dave happened to miss the catch just before Mr. Chapman's period, that old bulletin board, Haunting its purple and gold shield, won for the most Perroquet sales of our year, and right beside it the notices of exams, bridge tournament results, of lost and found articles. We will remember too, that old pencil sharpener with the hole in it, through which sawdust filtered when Eleanor and Mary rushed by at half a minute to nine g at the back of the room the vision of those editions of the 3D Bomb their bright covers done by Janet's clever fingers, hanging by tacks looted from Mr. Mac- Murchy's desk. And shall we ever forget that old desk? Remember the paper file which Mr. Doxsee so narrowly missed sitting on one day? Dear old file! How many excuse slips you have held! Synoni- mous with the desk rises the picture of Mr. MacMurchy's face with its blue eyes and dark rimmed glasses, and again down the echoes of the past comes his voice, Find the simplest formula-? Then, as our retrospective eye travels again to the back of that well-known room, we see the old ventilator that never did work, and we remember with a sigh of pleasure that that wall had the individuality to be gray while the other walls were green. A faint click starts a new recollection, and we see the old door, through which, for twenty-live years even before our time, the hosts of shadowy students had been entering, and now our own cronies come trooping through, with the self-same grins and remarks. That click! Ah! Remember the time we kept Mr. Fyfe out with that dented Yale lock? It rendered good service that day, in saving our chalk throwers from detention. We see paper wads on the fioor, which bring back poignant recollections of Don, Dick, Angus and Terry 5 and there, a paper off a chocolate bar. Oh! remember the chocolates we Won for selling the most tickets for the Christmas Concert? And speaking of festivities, a fresh picture is conjured up of a form party at Frances Thomson's Where Al Paull and Norm Ixliman staged their Big Broadcast. What is that sound? Can it be the ghost of Tubby Barnett's cow calling to us from the past? 'Tis no other! In memory we seem to hear again the peals of girlish laughter, and turning to the cloakroom door, see our fair classmates emerg- ing, late as usual, for History period. , A phantom bell sets the echoes of our memory ringing, and in our middle-aged hearts there swells that same old exultation at the welcome sound. 4 87