Charlotte Technical High School - Technique Yearbook (Charlotte, NC)

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CLASS SONG To be sung, to the tune of “South of the Border.” We’ve crossed the border, to go on our way To face the world outside without a guide to show the way. And as we leave you our thoughts ever stray Back to the border we re crossing today. We hate to leave you, but that’s all in life. We’ll gain success, we know, as on we go through toil and strife. Oh, it was so pleasant and we were so gay. But we’ve crossed the border to go on our way. And we sigh as we round out this last year It’s hard to realize that we’re parting And we ' re sad as we go out from Tech High. For our end here is drawing nigh. We’ve crossed the border; we’ll be back no more. There is grief in our hearts as we depart and close the door, We’ll always remember the days we spent here; It was so pleasant each day of the year. Here stands a building steady and firm. From which a person hates to turn When his high school days have passed him by; For he has learned to love “Dear Old Tech High. Years of pleasure, though filled with strife Cherished years in each young life. Now, as we look back and picture things. We know time has flown on hasting wings. We’re happy we’ve reached our long-sought goal. We ' re proud to have our names on Tech High ' s roll. We’ve reach the top, but we aren’t glad; It’s a happy occasion, though we are sad. We’ll miss it all and recall with a sigh The cheerful years we spent at Tech High. We must depart — some to the left, some to the right Wherever we go, for Tech we ' ll fight. Often we’ll repeat an old friend ' s name, And always our love for Tech proclaim. Farewell to Tech Farewell to thee. + + + — William McCoy. Page Thirteen

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CLASS HISTORY I his, the graduating class of ’40, began its eventful climb to fame six years ago when they entered the seventh grade. Very little happened to them during the seventh, eighth, and ninth grades; but they really became famous in what they thought to be their junior year. That year a play was given entitled “Lena Rivers” and the proceeds were used to give the main event of the year, the Junior-Senior Banquet. Certainly, there is not a gayer occasion on record. When this spirited class resumed studies in the fall of 38, they were all ready to don their robes of dignity and become the proudest seniors in Tech; but fate took hold by adding another grade. The would-be seniors slid reluctantly into their second junior year but with their hopes still high for a successful senior year. At last the time arrived. In September of ’39, this faithful class did attain their goal when they assumed the rank of dignified seniors. Never in all history has there ever been a more wide-awake senior class. They fulfilled their one desire — the publication of an annual. Looking backward over the years, these seniors are proud of their success and challenge anyone to equal it; looking forward, we have no doubt but that we will reach the top of the ladder of success. To dear old Tech High we leave our love and thanks for making all our hopes and dreams come true. Willie Suddreth. Historian . Pag 2 T welve

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THE PROPHECY OF THE PROPHET As we open our prophecy, we turn to the busy streets of a crowded busi- ness area in New York City. Here we find the noble contractor, engineer, and architect, J. B. Fowler, telling his men how to dig ditches in ten easy lessons and four hard ones. Leaving J. B., we moved on down the crowded thorough- fare, and came to a large firm called, Paint-Em-Up Sign Company” whose slogan is Our Signs are Signs of Bad Business.” Another sign plainly stated in large letters that Whitney Elmore was president, vice-president, secretary, treasurer and janitor. I also saw a sign stating that Julian Berry was a candi- date for Governor of New York. Later I came to a large building which covered an entire block. I learned that it was the world-famous play house called Dub Barr ' s Swinging Jazzeteers,” which featured the famous works of H. O. Taylor, the world ' s greatest. Manager Paul Yandle told me that Roy Lee Lackey had purchased a half interest in the play bouse from Mr. Barr. 1 bought a paper from a newsboy and noticed that Bobby Adams was managing editor. On the sports page I found that Howard Thomas was the sports editor, and had just written a great story about Bill Knight and J. B. Corriher, the local football heroes of Carnegie Tech. I read on the society page that Sarah Plummer was rocking the cradle for some local boy whose name I could not make out. There was a big story about the honeymoon of Harriet Ward and H. O. Taylor. On the financial page I saw that Tommy Austin was president of the New York Stock Exchange. I also saw that the Industrial Steel Corporation had been bought by Edwin Griffin, the great steel magnate. As I had many letters to write I asked a man if he could recommend a letter- writing company to me. He recommended the Write-Em-Up Letter Company” which was owned by Dennis McSwain. Having time to spare and good c redit, I hope, I decided to take a trip to Europe, probably to France. When I bought my ticket for the steamship I asked the ticket seller, Nancy Hawkins, if there was any steamship that she would recommend or if there was any special cruise that she would recommend. She gave a strong recom- mendation for the “Love More Tour” which was sponsored and owned by three well-known lovers of love, Alice Ramsey, Carolyn Davis, and Edna Rosencrance. She told me that it would change one ' s whole attitude on love; that Jean Lindsay had taken the trip, and instead of marrying a hard-working millionaire, she had married a hard-working multi-millionaire. All went well on the voyage and at last when I arrived on the shores of France, whom did I see as customs official but Bill Griffith! I immediately bought a French newspaper and learned that Cecil Cudd was the newly appointed ambassador to France. I decided that I would take in some fun and entertainment in a great French fashion. I noticed in the paper that there was a big night club called the Razz Jazz Follies Club” featuring Marjorie Lee Smith, the noted dancer, Page Fourteen