Charlotte High School - Witan Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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.gt .szoufol .Happen fo Cl Og Way back in 1943 The New York Daily Bunk was unknown, but today it is the most influential newspaper in the world with a circulation of 4,500,000. The nucleus of this great member of the Fourth Estate is Tom Elliott, who directs the organization from be- hind the squat, mirror-topped desk in the office building on Bunk Square. Let's pay Tom a visit and peer into the world of journalism. We begin our journey by boarding a helicopter of the Tom McKnight Airlines, piloted by Martin Kern, and we are quickly made comfortable by a pretty little Gremlin-like stewardess who goes by in the name of Betty Vollmer. We are whisked away to Gruetzner Field, formerly known as La Guardia Field, where we disembark and give our bags to a steward who has James Starken, Don't Forget thc Tip embroidered promi- nently on the breast of his uniform. One of our jolly little group hails a taxi which, by some very strange coincidence, is driven by Harry Pieper, an old friend of ours. We begin the trip like a jack-rabbit, roar through heavy traffic, narrowly escape meeting our Creator, and climb like a group of shell-shocked soldiers from the cab to find, in an awe struck manner, that we stand before the gigantic skyscraper that houses the eyes, ears, and especially the nose of the world. We pass over the marble threshold, through the great glass doors, inside, we ask the clerk, Philip Mills, grandson of General Mills, to announce us to the pompous one. The editor's business associate partner and office boy, Adam Kram, immediately takes us in hand and leads us to the ncrve center of a world of type- writcrs, telctypcs, presses, and correspondents, such as John Coryell, Dick Baker, Donald Cronisc, and Richard Moore who roam the world digging up dirt-I mean news. We are greeted in a jovial and friendly man- ner by Tom who shakes hands with each one of us while we are held firmly by J ack Nesbitt and Stanley Otto, his two bodyguards, both certified graduates of the Jack Mills Muscle v Building Institute. The long arm of coincidence was then dislocated at the shoulder when whom should we see washing the windows but William Schneider, window washer and flag pole sitter extraordinaire. As we were chatting pleasantly over a Leggett No-Schrink, No-Warp, No- Good Pail, what to our wondering eyes should appear but a fire engine driven by Howard Milton-and why not? That is what he gets paid for! With a squeal of brakes the fire engine came to an abrupt stop to wait for a train driven by John Taylor, and I heard Milton state ere he drove out of sight, F oiled by the fickle finger of freight. Our good host switched on the television set and after we untied the knots in the screen we saw the Quaint Squad: Lou Ann Alden, Lena Maggilini, Ruth Bymer, and Edna Musclow, sponsored by the Brethen, Brethen, Smith and Metcalfe Little Giant Streamlined Scented Peppermint Flavored Toothpick Manufactur- ing Company, Incorporated. The quartet is singing the sextet from Lucia -they have an unusually strong union. The program is dis- turbed by a flash which announces that Karl Denninger has just arrived at Santa Anna to settle the race problem. At this point Audrey McKissick, the society editor, bursts through the door to report from The Moskowitz Beauty Salon that one of the beauty operators, Jean Mokler, has developed a new up-sweep hair-do for downbeats which will undoubtedly replace the Boylan heel and toe method. Immediately upon her heels comes Virginia Crouse, the well-known critic, who wishes to report that Don Lammers, with his sax, his ulcers, his toupee, his false teeth, and his orchestra, starring tap dancer Joyce Boyle, is now playing at the roof gardens of the 250- story Down Trodden Hotel, proprietor of which is Harry Koller, at the corner of Broadway and Houlihan Alley. We then set out for a tour of the building. The first door we passed said Ladies, so we moved on. Printed on the next door we saw, Jennie Manillo-Advice to the Lovelorn. Tap-

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.gf SAM!! .Happen lo a may fCOIltiI1l16dj ping gently on the door, brushing aside the broken glass, and entering, we behold the feminine Mr. Anthony giving advice to Marian Reitz, Helen Quercione, Josephine Bonacci, and Donna Kofad. Not needing advice, we made a hasty exit through an elevator door but, much to our amazement, found that the elevator had gone up, and we plunged down. Limping up the stairs we pass Angelina Angelo, Jean Potter, Julia Neroni, and Rosemary Sharp who were sighing while they discussed crooners Bruce Martin and Ed McCormick. Through no desire of our own, we bumped into John Lang, the Jimmy Fiddler of the 1950's, who gives us the latest dope on some of our old C. H. S. classmates. He tells us that Mary Baker, Rosemary Batson, Elene T eir- lynck, and Annette Gauthier are giving a silver tea in honor of Senator Harold Jackson. We are informed by him that Lois Vogel, the inventor of the soda cracker with metal crumbs that can be removed from bed with a magnet, is in town, accompanied by Norma Frens, the the Sulfanilmide Sister. Cyrus Andrews, play- boy and man-about-town, is in the city hitting such well-known night spots as the Eugene Kintz Casino and Wright's Dark Horse Inn. We leave Mr. Lang, trip over Detective Jack Van Cott who is on the trail of Janet Chapman for any but professional purpose and escape through the side exit. Taking a deep breath of fresh air we ask policeman Bob Vaughan where we can find a drug store to get a Bromo. He directs us to Emblidge's drug store where we meet Betty Alden, Linda Allardt, and Lois Ender buying bottle after bottle of Evening in Flatbush from clerk Jeanette Howe. Glancing at a magazine, I noticed articles written by such notables as Marge Buck, Shirley Donoghue, Dorothy Dreher, and Ursula Gebhart. Returning at the street we board a Verwey triple decker bus operated by Mary Rickey and spot Marge Piper hanging from the over-crowd- ed second deck. Climbing to the third deck, we sit near Mary Harrigan and Jean Johnston who have escaped their husbands long enough to go to Ray Faker's Bowling Alleys for an evening of enjoyment. As we pass a busy inter- section, we notice that there has been an acci- dent. Harvey Butts has been hit by a fruit wagon pushed by Milton Lang and is being attended by Dr. John Dettman and nurses Norma Jean Lucy and Joan Moriarty. Noticing an extra on the street, I glance at the headline and see that Frank Sinatra has turned Mormon and among the notables in his harem, there are Bette Suits, Phyllis Suther- land, Marguerite Timmons, Mary Van Hooy- donk, Gertrude Weber, Jean Webster, and Arline Weller. And so with my keeper, Dr. Richard J aenike, I submitted quietly and returned to the Bide- A-Wee Sanitarium where I have been closely associated with Mr. Anthony's mistakes since finishing the Class Prophecy of Charlotte High School in 1944. Comes the revolution no school shall have more than ten in the graduating class, and so poor Simple Simon bids you all adieu. PETER TACY