Charlotte High School - Witan Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

Page 15 text:

HIGH SCHOOL The WITAN y v Jrvsw ei v Class Propfliecy £ ? 4 7S I was walking, one bright spring day, in the more slummy part of our Flower (Flour) City, thinking about—nothing in particular, as usual, when a sign, a peculiar, odd sign, attracted my attention. It read, Prince Ali Bendou, Crystal Gazer.” I looked ar it, thought, now, maybe I’ll go in.” I changed my mind, started to walk away and then suddenly found myself half way up a steep pair of evil smelling dark stairs leading to the Crystal Gazer’s haunt. I had had in my mind, lately, the desire to see some of the members of my graduating class, the Class of 32 and down deep in my mind I had an idea that Ali Bendou might be the solution of my problem. Prince Ali Bendou astonished me by the way he resembled the stairs, evil looking, dark, dirty and odorous. I asked him his price to read the present, future and past in his crystal, and after a mental qualm over that price, sat down to watch him. I had explained to him that I had come to find out about my old classmates and as I watched him I too, seemed to pass under a spell so that I could sec figures in the crystal. Our of the clear glass seemed to appear a stage and on that stage, acting the memorable Peter Pan” of Maude Adams times was was I seeing things? Yes, no—it was Gladys Grotzinger. Of all things! But then she had been good in our senior play although I really thought Grutzy would eventually be married to some blonde young man who dances even better than a gigolo. Oh, what’s this? I sec a smart. Fifth Avenue Barber Shop and Ernest Eve trimming the sideburns of an oil magnate. He should be very good at this particular form of hair cut. My, what a beautiful picture that is appearing in the crystal. Blue sky, green trees, shrubs and birds and a beautiful blonde lying in the sunlight on a large cloistered porch. And the man? No other than Parrish, the artist, painting this beautiful picture. The girl, how exquisite. There, she turns around and oh my, oh my, why did 1 ever come here? It is my own sweet, demure, Violet Rentschler. Yes, it is! There is no argument, and taking a model’s place posing for Parrish. Oh, I know that place, appearing, faintly at first, and then clear. It is Fifth Avenue, in New York City. But see the young man walking there with the flaming red locks—and—yes, those two girls he has on cither arm have auburn hair too. It is—why—it really is Wilbert Buchin. I always knew something terrible would happen to him if he insisted on going with girls, girls and more girls decked with red hair. He even has gone to the extenr of dyeing his own hair that bright red. Poor Wilbert! Then, here’s yes, myself. And what am 1 doing? Oh, yes, I have kindly consented to take the place of that deceased Maestro, Damerosch at his piano stool, giving daily lectures on music appreciation and theory over the National Broadcasting Net Work. My only regret is that I haven’t two or three grandchildren to hold on my knee, or to have sit on the piano so that I can have our pictures taken for Newsreel. Speaking of music, sec that concert hall with the huge crowd and almost as large a piano sitting on the platform. (The piano, of course, sitting on the platform, not the crowd) Thunderous applause and here comes the artist, with long curly hair, and large neck scarf. It is Lois Marsh. I always thought she would lie an artist. Oh look' Where is Art Gordon going on that strange looking boat? I lis passport is in French. As he hands it to the authorities we see that it is made out to Arthur Gordon, Ph. I). He fades leaving our curiosity unsatisfied. And who is that perfectly stunning girl in the leopard skin coat, leaning on the arm of I don’t recognize the man? Who is it? Oh, yes, Betty Briggs. Bur somehow- I can’t remember much about her. Oh, ves, she came in late from Monroe High School and her one great characteristic was her attraction for our male sex. There’s Bill Farrcss. I haven't seen him in ages. He seems ro be talking an awful lot, doesn't he? What’s he saying? Why that’s a circus tent he is 3

Page 14 text:

CHARLOTTE The VVITAN All the world's a stage And all the men and women merely players.” Charlotte I ligh School was our stage and the class of 1932, the players. We made our entrance in January, 1928, our headquarters being Mr. Bennett’s room, 207. During our first year we dropped the role of stu- dents for awhile and held a party in the Assembly Hall, which was not successful as our male actors had not yet learned the art of dancing. As time went on, we began to play our parts more expertly, more nonchalantly, and we gave a party in the Practice House which was a success. But all companies must have stars. Harold Smith, Pomeroy Cass, Violet Rcntschler and Gladys Grot- zinger comprised the entire executive cast of the Student Council in their Junior year. Also we had musical fame. Jean Estes was one of the repre sentatives from Charlotte, chosen to go to Detroit for the National High School Chorus. Then there was keener competition among our players for a part in the National Honor Society, than in any other class in school. This year we took a trip to Cobourg with no resulting casualties, though Percy was nearly left in Canada when he couldn't find his ticket. He would have been there yet had not Miss Sharer rescued him. In May, 1931, we played our parts professionally and presented Seventeen.” our senior play at Jefferson Junior High School. Lovers of nature as well as actors in the role of students, we decided to have a picnic at Letchworth Park. Arthur forgot that the picnic was on Saturday and after collecting him and filling the gas tanks, we proceeded on our way. Everything was fine as Bill Farress hail done a very good job of supervising the picnic, bur when we came to eat the hots, it was revealed that Gladys had forgotten of all things, on a picnic, the mustard! Nevertheless every- body ate their fill and afterwards went sight seeing in the park in spite of the heat. Some of our actors went on the musical stage, forming a quarter and persuaded the Grange to send them to the State Fair. Here they saw only sheds and sheds of cows, according to one of the members. Having sung their numbers they were asked to pay the outrageous sum of two dollars for checking their costumes. Their costumes were Scotch. Once again we contributed to the real stage, but now being very professional, we went on the road and played four times being unable to meet a fifth engagement. This notable production was The Florist Shop. By combining the presentation of the play and the musical talents of some of our members we gave an all senior program in assembly. Outstanding as we players have been, we wanted to keep our good name by making a very dramatic contribution to our school. Therefore we arc turning out the first Charlotte High School handbook as our class present to our Alma Mater. But now it is time for us to make our exits and leave to our successors a new stage, fully equipped, a new company and a new audience with plans for a brilliant future. Ruth Punnett Class Historian EVIDENCE Here is the bower where she has lain Watching the reluctant feet of dawn Over the heavens, dim-lit with pearly rain Thru fleecy clouds unto the fragrant lawn. Here her own feet have hurried like the fawn Over the mystic carpet with nightingale and crane. A fairy figure that some hand has drawn Back ro the unknown heavens whence she came. Here is the wood that answered to her song Echoes cooler than dim note of bird. Here is the pathway that led her along Beauty unseen and song unheard. These are the tangled vines that blurred Her fairy figure, slim and swift and strong. This is the magic door whose mystery lured This is the mute oak w ho knows which way she’s gone. I 2

Page 16 text:

CHARLOTTE The WITAN standing in front of. And—yes—he is a ballyhoo talker for Fingling Brothers Circus. What a man! And I had always thought he was rather quiet, and bashful. Water please! Burr—burr—just to look at that scene freezes me up. Snow, great lights in the sky and appearing in the distance a dog-sled. My, that man looks cold too. Why—Percy Andrews, so that is what he is doing. Exploring the Arctic. This is a good place for him to be, but even though he looks cold, I would bet my whole weeks’ pay (S.coo) that he is sweating under all those hear skins. Speaking of the arette regions, who is that going from igloo to igloo? Why, it’s Jimmy Weeks, and what is he doing? Oh, he’s a traveling salesman for Fanny Farmer’s Candy. He always was good at selling candy in school. But somehow or other I thought Eskimos ate tallow or somepin and not candy. Maybe it’s Jimmy’s personality who knows? Boy, after all that cold weather, this is the kind of place I would like to visit. A hula hula land from all the weather signs. I-ook at that girl dance. She looks like an American. Why she is! Suddenly, I feel faint. I never thought Ruth Punnett would come to this . . But there is an old saying, Still water runs deep. Well, if that isn’t dear old Avery I Kkner singing away. From the looks of things he must he vocalizing, as Mr. Marsh used to say. Oh, dear, I wish 1 had a voice like that, a voice that actually lulled people to sleep. This looks like yes, it is -good old New York City again. And by all appearances that is a news- paper building. It surely is. I always like to go through newspaper buildings (thanks to Miss Paul). Here's the F.ditor-in-Chief’s office. It’s marked private. But who cares? The Editor himself! Well, well, well, as I live and die! It is Axel Johnson suc- ceeding in Art Brisbane’s place as Editor of the New York Journal. Whar a class, rhat class of '32 was. We seem to be traveling all over New York City today. Here we arc at the Yankee Stadium appear- ing in the clear crystal. Everybody is all excited about something. My, look at rhat big handsome fellow hatting. Hooray, it’s a home run. And yes, vou guessed it, it’s Smitty! But here’s a secret I learned. He can’t run bases any better than he used to when playing on Charlotte’s Champion (?) Base- ball team. Eookit rhar good-looking man stump-talking to a group of people right on Broadway. Why, it’s Cam Crittenden, and he’s a salesman for Ford Cars. Thar rakes me right back to the good old days when Cam’s mania was to remodel old cars. But I thought he leaned toward the Essex. Well, the Ford is a good car. The next scene that is being unfolded from the crystal is a football game at Notre Dame. Notre Dame and Northwestern. And who's sitting on that bench. As usual a good player from rhe side-lines is Sam DcMato. He always was a good player in rhat same position on the soccer team at Charlotte. Oh, last but not least, I remember Pomeroy Cass. He always did seem to come in last even in the crys tal. And here he is as an acrobat and tumbler, traveling under the assumed name of Spigo from town to town. A tumbler is good! The best part ol Pomeroy is the way he falls down. Suddenly, a long, slim Austin looms into view and we see Frank Campbell at the wheel. Now Frankie's Mamma and Papa can have the Buick. The glass is becoming cloudy strange zig-zag dashes of tire appear followed by a cloudy foamy looking substance which crystallizes into white specks violently agitated like flakes of snow in a blizzard. Ali Bendou, puzzled, reverses the ball and Charles Richardson momenrarily appears succeeded by a violent crash as the crystal flics to pieces. One look at Prince Ali convinces me that I have urgent business elsewhere. Jean Estes Class Prophet CREST Long slow waves of memoria come rolling, Slowly rolling over dark green trees and mist. And hills blurred gray with distance. Vines that climb in aimless wildness, And brow n drooped sunflowers, too old to remember Even a namesake. And long slow waves of memories come breaking. Breaking into colored specks of foam, Breaking into pictures, dreams and dust. Pictures of a purple plume of sunset color, And the glowing green purity of moss and dew; Dreams of afternoons, warm and tinted blue. Of hours and breaths too short to hold The infinitude of a rose or moon; •And the dust of unforgettable sorrow Almost forgotten. •4