Central High School - Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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HISTORY OF THE ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-THIRD, CLASS By Samuel Dubin Verdant Freshmen: A great, massive structure it was, weathered and aged, cold and foreboding. No reception committee, no band blaring sweet notes of welcome. We entered: entered into four years of hard work, long hours of study: four years rich in friendship and experience. That door we opened signified the beginning of a new life, a new era in our short existence. Never shall we forget those short but eventful years. They shall ever be cherished and have an everlasting nook in our hearts. We entered as boys with dreams, and left as men: ready to face the realities of life. We entered as freshmen-a very peculiar class of fellows upon which we were later to look down upon with disdain. We're lost in that broad expanse of corridors and multitude of class rooms. Can't understand why were made an object of ridicule by snooty upper- classmen as we earnestly consult our rosters and clutch the Freshman's Bible. We're called by our last names, put on our own, and in general made to feel like men. A teacher is known as Fess or Doc. We roll in the aisles when Hey, Boy! is first heard. We clean the pig sty and wipe our noses when Cap'n Armatage orders it: we squeeze our paraphernalia in anemic lockers, shiver in the gym, admire Venus, frown before Plato, and goosestep before Caesar. There's something about these gloomy corridors and deadly 106. Something that can't be seen or heard, but it's there. They tell us it's tradition, the past roaming an ancient abode. We get our first taste of what the ticket sellers call a traditional game. Central walloped Northeast 22 to 6 that Thanksgiving. Well never miss that game, no sir! Holy smoke! The year practically finished! Soon be a Sophomore. It certainly has been a long initiation. Gay Young Sophomores: Phew! We're out of the muck at last! Life seems so gay. In fact, it's just a bowl of worms, grasshoppers, anthropoids, skeletons, and syntax. Some of us went abroad-riding through Gaul on a Pony. Caesar himself is constantly turning over in his grave. His Garlic Wars are being slaughtered in class: and then he is assassinated by the Dramatic Association. New faces and personalities enter among us. We can now look

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upon incoming Freshies with a mocking sneer. Rumor has it that there will be a new Central. Why take it seriously? How can we make a break 'inow? Why, we're just getting accustomed to the run of things. Soon it is no longer a rumor. It is confirmed! We await that time with anxiousness and reluctance. We're starting to wear suits and to be more careful of our manners, dress, and speech. fWhy these new airs?J Why? We sophomores are moving into the Iunior assembly. The third lap will soon be reached. Stately Iuniors: We are seasoned veterans now. Have weathered two years: two more to go. Crashed the Senior assembly. Gave us poor seats, but will be sitting up in front in no time. Gloom overshadowed our school this term. Death made a series of sudden lightning flashes. Never shall we forget Professor MacPherson, Professor Robinson, Professor Henwood and Professor Landis: men loved for their kindness and generosity to all students. But life and school goes on. The new school is in the not so distant future. The building is actually growing out of the hillside, right on the top of the world. There are festivities in the air. We're one hundred years old. Sure will be proud to tell our sons? and grandsons?? that we took part in the Central Centenary Celebra- tion. Something else to brag about. Central is Public High Football Champs. Mowed 'em all down. Too bad that the team will split. George Raymond and Bert Walls were on that team. Ziggy Zam- lynski was there, too. Yes, Zam, of the l73rd. Zam, the spark plug. Zam, the howitzer. Iz Bolef, associate editor of the Centralizer, is preparing to be Chieftain and the best writer Central has turned out in years. Alongside is Hank Seidenberg, mentor and big gun of our future champion debating team. Nate Raiken is splashing away and becoming an important candidate for Class President. Events are moving by with lightning speed. The new C. H. S. faculty is named. Many whom we honored, admired and revered have been left behind. Friends and comrades of three years decide to drop by the wayside. Many have decided by just a glimpse of Central's new home. lt's enough. It will do. Getting impatient. Can't wait. Guns are primed. Ready for the last lap. lt's last day at Broad and Green--one last look -one final parting glance. We slowly amble to the door. Funny, it's the same door by which we entered. This time we push outwards. One step. The door closes. It is finished. The last chapter in the third volume is completed. Farewell to thee, oh Tower of Strength. Farewell crammed corridors and slamming lockers. Farewell 106- Maker and Breaker of Men, you have served. We are indebted.