Chatham Hall - Chathamite Yearbook (Chatham, VA)

Page 29 text:

THE CHATHAMITE Dukie, orb as the case may be, Nanki Poo, wills her voice to Ginny Downing. From monotone to Met! Janet Gregory, renouncing the lighter things of life with unnecessary emphasis, bequeaths her frivolity to Marion Cowles. Itis a gift, Marion! Bentley Booth, tossing her pretty bobbed head, resigns her yodel to Nancy Waters. But children should be seen and not heard! Weezie gives her blase acceptance of life i11 general to Jean Crispell. Let's see a little less enthusiasm, Jean! Sibyl graciously wills her vitality to Hollister. Come on, Hollister, pep up! Trishie, unable to repress an excited squeal at the last, leaves it to Frances Munson. Kay Day, after raising her eyebrows carefully and finding that it's no use, hands them over to Rosie Stephenson. Now we can see them, Rosie! Nanny Meier leaves her heavenly music to the Devotional Department. Harp! Harp! the larp! No witnesses were available, for this, our will, but if there are no additions or corrections, we will consider it approved in the eyes of posterity. CLASS PROPHECY Dear Dr. Lee, Thank you very much for the charming Christmas card you and Mrs. Lee sent me. I thought you might be interested to know of an amazing experience which occurred to me the other day. Imagine finding all of the Class of '36 in one place at one time and not all talking at once! At the Metropolitan Opera House the other day I was attending a matinee per- formance of i'armen,,' in which our most noted alumna, Helen Duke, sang the title role. She sang gloriously, but the girls were so excited at seeing each other again that poor Helen had a strong element with which to compete. A The iirst person who caught my eye was Mary Cary Willcox, entirely surrounded by a bevy of small Spanish urchins who compose one of her numerous Sunday school classes. Across the aisle to the left sat Prudence Smith with her rival class. In the row ahead was Mary Bentley Booth-she was wearing her tweeds. As you know, she is the champion hog-caller of Texas, having put her yodling to good effect. At an exciting moment in the second act, greatly stirred by Helen's melodious warbling, Mary Bentley emitted a yodel of great volume. Unfortunately, this created among the children of the two classes a serious disturbance, which was only quelled when a very neatly dressed young lady, whom I immediately recognized as our own Mary Applegate, stepped forward with a serene countenance and said, My children, be still l and they were. During the i11termission, as I made my way into the aisle, I stumbled over a t1'61ll8I1dOl1S obst1'uction. Looking up, I saw a young woman whom I recognized as Clara Applegate and realized that the idol of the Women's Clubs of Morristown had the well-remembered feet of Clay. Accompanying her was Helene Bosworth, who 25 1936

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THE CHATHAMITE SENIOR CLASS WILL E, the Class of '36, being only partially dressed, due to the recent craze for sun-bathing, and i11 ai low frame of mind, due to our imminent departure from this, our most rece11t earthly dwelling place, do hereby make our most solemn will and testament, desiring that our general Senior privileges be given to the oncoming Ju11iors, and that the following personal bequests be effected: Biddle Bettle, setting a last alarm clock under the study-hall floor, and reg1'et- fully lighting a last firecracker, leaves her Chatham Hall Past to Betty Zabriskie. Clay, although dashing on her way to a dozen engagements, pauses long enough to bestow some of her efficiency o11 Woodle. She can spare it! Pud, swaying from side to side, leaves her supple walk to Kassie Nimick. Ely, with a prolonged shriek, wills her te1nperam.ent-not her hair-to Flo Wardwell. Helen Marshall hands over her figure to Mary Jane Hart. Hew to the line, Mary Jane, let the pounds fall where they may! The Hoyts, trying to tell each other apart, give their independence of ezieh other to the Osborns. Betsy Hoffer, eraning, leaves her turtle neck to Peggy Ward. Here's to more neck-action, Peggy! Booty thankfully leaves her hip-bones to front Pruden-it always has needed a hat-rack--while Parge, with a sigh for her months of wasted effort, gives her tall to Pitney. Frances Vaughan hands over her rogues' gallery to the younger sister. Let's keep it in the family, Margaret! Ruth Mary, after rising from the depths just in time for a dance practice, leaves her ability to concentrate to Mary Mcl'lean MeKissick. Bunny leaves her faith i11 human nature to the school in general. It can use itl Betsy Felts, in pantomime, bestows her volubility on P. K. Andy gives her stature to Sarah Choate. Alice i11 Wonderland did it, Sarah! Gina hands over her red shirt to the purple team. It's such a lovely combination l Helene, in a noble attempt to change Haavad to Harvurd, bequeathes her Denver drawl to Grinnell. M'Apple leaves her neatness to Tuttle and Vale. But eve11 that seems an under- quota! 'Mi11a, skipping Orion-like, leaves her fairy feet to Elizabeth Stokes. Sadie joyfully hands over her teeth to Dykie-to help fill the aching void. Mary Cary wills her maouse, poor little thing, to Pruden-as if it didn't have enough already l Helen Taylor leaves her happy memories of China to Dr. Lee to supplement his list of after-lecture stories. Branch, cyasting a last regretful look in the mirror, decides that it's all for the best, and gives her hair to Baby Mitchell. 24 1936

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THE CHATHAMITE had come east as a representative of the Prairie Mothers, Association of Denver to coni-er with Clara. We walked up the aisle together, and i11 the lobby we ran into Kay Day, the beloved author of those influential books, Priscilla and Pauline at Boarding School or Wild Life in the Dormitoriesf' Our attention was attracted to a very mannishly dressed woman smoking a cigarette in a long holder, none other than Anne Ely. Suddenly the blase expression left her face, and seizing a. pencil, she began to scribble frantically on her cuff. Upon inquiry, we ascertained that she had just worked out a formula for a new highball. . Upon going back to my seat, I was almost enmeshed in what proved to be Bunny Kneeland's chewing gum. Bunny had fulfilled her ambition to be a social service worker and was now making her latest protege feel at home by chewing gum at the opera. Shadowing Bunny I saw the meticulous Mary Applegate picking up the gum papers as Bunny let them fall. I turned to avoid a fresh onslaught of chewing gum and saw in a box the noted coiffeuse, former Booty Woods, who is now married, as you know, to the illustrious beauty expert, Vorticelli of the Spitz. His jet black ringlets had been freshly curled that very morning by the devoted Booty. As I thumbed through my program, I came upon the picture of a coming attrac- tion of the skating season, Little Andy of the Silver Skates. On the next page was an iidggrtisement of the Waistcoat Tailleur. You will be delighted to hear that Mrs. Waistcoat is the erstwhile Sibyl Coates. The Waistcoat Tailleur has become well known through the clothes designed by Margaret Woods. Up to this time Parge's talent had been eclipsed by that of her twin. But There is no point in hiding your light under a bushel, says Parge, and she is 11ow the exclusive designer for the Hoyt twins. These two noted models were seated in a box displaying gowns for the cocktail hour. When the lights were bei11g dimmed, and the orchestra started tuning up for the third act, I noticed a familiar face beaming from the orchestra pit, and the figure of Nancy Meier twined gracefully around her harp. Now and then a wistful look came over Na.ncy's face, and strains of The Volga Boatmanv floated forth. The lights Went down, and at the appearance of the toreador, I noticed a lovely woman ahead of me let down her hair and weep. I realized it was Betty Branch des Gonzales, bewailing the absence of her husband detained in Mexico during the bullfighting season. At this moment I heard a commotion in the balcony, a11d turned around to see Gina Farr, wife of the famous Frank Duck, the big game hunter, accompanied by a pet gorilla, Keatsey. They were both wearing bow ties, and Gina was vainly attempt- ing to appease Keatsey's commotion with animal crackers. As my gaze traveled from balcony to box, I noticed a stealthy figure snooping around. It was none other than Mrs. Rapaljeis little goil Sarah, the Walter Winchell of her day. The box behind which she stood contained the well-known Rotogravure belle, Trishie Grant, who had landed her millionaire and now appeared decked in 26 1936