Charlotte High School - Witan Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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 T ? ( 1 “1910” in f ® t $ f) 11 ® ® if t, f Thirty-eight of Mr. Butterfield's former teachers held a reunion dinner in his honor at the home of Miss Ella A. Tiernan un Lake Avenue on May G. The out-of-town guests included: Mr. and Mrs. Charles W. Hamilton, Mrs. Christine Pride Abbott, Mrs Katherine Cummings Dalton, Mrs. Gene- vieve Blackford Wildey ami Mrs. Mary Conley Phalen. This picture represents six of the thirteen teachers who were working in the school during Mr. Butterfield's first year, 1910: Miss Pride, Miss Tiernan. Miss Cum- mings, Miss Blackford, Miss O’Brien and Miss Bemish. 27

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r H E WITAN he has excelled, it is the work that he has loved most. This probably accounts for his unqualified success in his pro- fession. During his early years in Charlotte, Mr. Butterfield not only performed the duties of principal but taught all the mathematics, taught public speaking, trained students for the annual orator- ical contests, coached the senior plays, coached the basketball teams, conducted the orchestra, acted as librarian, typed senior essays, and did many other things with and for the students. Soon after he became princ pal, the first Charlotte High School Students Association was formed. Meetings in- cluding the entire student body were held in what is now the gymnasium. (It was then the assembly hall and had a stage where the offices now are.) Everybody participated in these meet- ings and great was the excitement thereof. The first senior annual, “The Grad- uate” in 1913, was the result of Mr. Butterfield’s inspiration and effort. Although the annual has not been pub- lished regularly since that time, “The Graduate” did establish a tradition and has been a worthy example for later annuals. As the school grew it became neces- sary for Mr. Butterfield to give up one after another of these activities in which both he and the students found much pleasure and profit. His time during the past few years has been de- voted very largely to administrative work and yet he has known personally every student and his problems and achievements. The facts here mentioned are only a few that are well-known to all. What we feel about him cannot be so easily expressed. Facts and figures can in no degree indicate what he has meant to Charlotte High School and the students he has known here. We have said the new era began with R. L. Butterfield, 1910—but wc are not going to say it ends now. If his con- tribution to this school has been real, as we know it has, those of us who have had the privilege of working with him will keep alive the spirit which he has created here and each generation of students will pass it on to the next. H. Jean Carter. 26

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 Qt; (S1 C3f£) 5 t dT' S1 mT ( ) | LITERARY DEPARTMENT T I Beauty’s Taire Morty wanted it! Wanted it so much his one track mind was surprised it could think so intensely. How to get it was the question churning itself in his head. Morty sat on his back porch and gazed at the object of his longing. Then he arose and paced back and forth and pondered. It did him no good. He just had to have immediate action. Well, now, let’s see. Maybe if he went to them and asked for it they would give it to him. No. that wouldn’t do; it had been in the family too long; they would never part with it. Perhaps he could steal it. But how could he steal a thing as big as that? And then, the police would be after him. A person that steals is put in jail for a long time. Who would come to see him if he were imprisoned? No one, because he had stolen something valuable; no one would care for him. No one cared much about him anyway. Oh, what did it matter? They didn’t amount to anything. Let them do as they wished. ‘T will steal it, I will, tonight,” he decided. There, it was all settled. He would steal it tonight regardless of dif- ficulties or consequences. Night came, and Morty, armed with the necessary implements, set out across his back yard to where Tad and Ella Laine lived. He crept noiselessly around the house to see if everyone was asleep. Listen! Was that a foot- step? He drew up into a shadow and looked behind. No, evidently he imag- ined it. On he went, peeking into win- dow’s. At the back of the house he jumped back startled. A light! Be- neath that door! Why, where did it go? It was there a minute ago. There it is again! Ah, ha, that is funny— just the street light behind that large maple tree. Everything looks all right, but it might not be. “Well, I'll have to take a chance anyway. Have to be awfully quiet to get away without dis- covery.” Finally assured, he went to his task with a will. Hauling and tugging he finally arrived home with it. Since he had that afternoon decided where he would put it, he had soon finished. He went happily off to bed, his mind at rest. Waking once before daybreak, he sat up quickly wondering if he had only dreamed of his possession. No, out in the kitchen lay his implements for work. It was not a dream! it was reality. He sighed contentedly and fell asleep again. When the first rays of the morning sun crept into his room, he awoke. Wheel 1 have it now. I wonder what they’ll do about it. Oh, 1 don’t care. Yippee! It’s mine.” How beautiful it was. Gorgeous thing, at last it was his alone. His eyes shone as he leaped out of bed. Pulling on his shoes (he hadn’t both- ered to undress the night before) he went out to look at that thing of beauty he owned at last. There, the beauty he had admired the day before had flown, and it had be- come a poor, sad. wilted, lilac bush. Elinore Raymond, ’32. 28