Charlotte High School - Witan Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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Class History As every village lias its “oldest resident, so every class must have its oldest member, and when the job ol Class Historian was handed to me. I immediately sought out Milt Punnett, who is acknowledged to he the “oldest resident of Charlotte High School and the oldest member of the class of 1023 (of course, Emmett Sullivan, the noted octogenarian, is our oldest member in age. hut not in years at C. H. S.) “What 1 want. I explained, “is a brief history of the class of 23 to print in our forthcoming annual. Recognizing your status as our most venerable and distinguished member, I felt that you might give me the benefit of your knowledge of the history of our school. “I see. answered he, with a readiness which showed that age ami years under the tutelage of teachers, many of whom have long since passed away, had not dulled his keenness of perception. I think I can help you, young man. Now I remember when I was a sophomore back in the 80 s— “Wait. I hastily interrupted, “please begin with 1919. I am not after a history of the school, you know. Ob, very well, lie replied abjectly, “but it is such fun to muse over the scenes and friends of long ago. For instance I shall never lorgct how George Eastman and 1 went to hear President Grant when he was in Roch- ester. or how I wanted to enlist for the Spanish War, but my father wouldn't let me. and the first time I voted, when Cleveland was elected to his first term. By the way. have you been to see “Bud Marks or “Sea Lion Boy ink. or any of my other old cronies, who have been here with me for the last five or ten years? Why, no, I said. Then. I'll tell you what we'll do, he exclaimed eagerly, “I II go and get some of them and you can ask them any questions you wish. He went out and presently returned with the two whom he had men- tioned and also “Red Schecr and “Crawler Coger. I noticed that Ralph entered tin room regretfully, and casting many longing glances back into the hall, but the rest seemed glad to come. Well, gentlemen, I said, when they had seated themselves, “you know why I am here. Suppose, in the first place, that you tell me what you remember about the advent of the glorious class of 1923 as freshmen. Ah! exclaimed “Rudd, don't ask us to do that. It's too painful. We were sophomores then, and to think how low we have fallen. he broke ofT amid bitter sobs and for the rest of the meeting continued to weep silently. Ralph, always willing to talk, was more communicative and said, with evident relish. I remember a great deal alnnit your initiation. For weeks afterward, there was an acute shortage of barrels, packing boxes, etc. around the school. Then too— Oh, I inte rruplcd, with a shudder. I too have not forgotten that warm October evening. To paraphrase Poc— 21

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Class Poem We entered an entrancing gateway But a few' short years ago. And came down the Lane of Knowledge In a school we have loved to know. Four years we have travelled together That path of riches renowned. And now we have reached the archway With the word “Graduation crowned. Under this arch we would linger. Slowly we say. “Good-Bye; But the world calls. Onward, onward, And we stifle the tear in each eye. Yet a toast to the good old high school Where we’re glad we could spend our youth, Twas a place of firm friends and loud comrades. Tis a place to obtain every truth. A place that is worthy of honor Of loyalty, respect and love; A memory that is graven sc» deeply No scenes on new pathways can remove. Edythe Doesciieh. CHARLOTTE HIGH SCHOOL LIBRARY 4115 LAKE AVE. ROCHESTER, NEW YORK 23

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Oh well do I remember It was almost in the bleak November (i. e. Oct. 25) And the last dying Freshie Cast his ghost upon the— (I couldn t make that last line rhyme, so I told the printer to leave the whole poem out, but he evidently forgot.) As I recollect. Mariner Davis and Savery Coneybcar (Note: This is not a typographical error), as class president and secretary received the roughest treatment but the fact remains that the kindling wood supply of the whole community was seriously endangered by this eventful night. But go on, do you remember anything more?” “Well, there was the freshman basketball team which was the best Charlotte ever put out and which lost the junior high championship by one point to Washington Junior. That is all that I can think of now. “Don't be too modest, Ralph,” admonished “Milt.” “certainly you ha ven t forgotten Senior Day.” Turning to me, he added, “When we had our annual tug-ol-uar with you freshmen we used Ralph as anchor man. From that time on his fortune was made for he was hired by a life insur- ance company to pose for their advertisements. Of course, we won the tug-of-war.” “Maybe so,” I responded, “hut don't forget the freshman class easily won all events at the annual school picnic on the same day and therefore redeemed themselves nobly. But now what about our sophomore year?” “Athletics,” said my first informant, Ralph, “furnished the main diversions of the cla s of '23 when sophomores. Among our prominent athletes were Carl Johnson, “Dick” Hall. Gordon Howe, Fred Gihaud. Don Davison and “Milt” Punnett. The oflicers were Walter Whclehan, Presi- dent. Henry Marks, vice-president and Inez Reiss, secretary. Rut I must go now. I-er-have an important engagement with-cr-a teacher. “Oh. indeed,” I said, “then we will of course excuse you. Thank you very much.” “Now.” I said, turning to the others, “if you can tell me something of our junior year, I will be exceedingly grateful and will trouble you no further.” “Well,” said “Red” Scheer (Note: Nicknamed “Red” because ol the color of his hair), as slowly and judiciously as ever, “it is hard to think of any of last year's activities in which Juniors did not play a leading part. The athletic teams, the initial Witan stall, the operetta, and all the other school activities were run largely by juniors. However, the climax to our successful year came on Senior Day, when four solemn members ol our class marched down the aisle ol the assembly hearing a funeral coffin labeled 1922. Charles Sullivan was the class president. After getting these facts down in my notebook. I thanked them all and started to leave when suddenly “Bud Marks roused himself and cried “Don't forget the Ballyho Bugle!” and then relapsed into his former state of mourning.