Clinton High School - Clintonian Yearbook (Clinton, SC)

Page 49 text:

SENIORS Benjamin Franklin Williams Cfnnsvrwfs his rfmlrgy . . . abilify to do lZ0l7I!??l707'k in Class . . . vmassunzing manner . . . Iafont abilify . . . gwzflwzzavz- like' nzannws . , . good disposi- tion. Samuel Wilson Hoyislz good Ioolrs . . . frans- porfafion fxrprfrf . . . z'z,'3l-Ivagllcf look . . . always olnliging . . . an I.llI1IlSh grin . . . many admir- ablw qzullifivs. Linda Ann Young Confagious laugh flmf gizvfs hw' ClIl'fl'jj . . . nmnfa for c'l11fn'- ing gum .... Q ingzllzlr lnluxlz , . . as good as hw' word . . . Hpffavlzcfs and 1'r1'fzm 1'on1pIr'.1'- 'ion . . . has l1'SlHl'f'l'l' 1'lIfl'I'lSf in oflzcfrs. .xx 1 N, T YL f l I, Q Psi Nm Nof Pz'f'furc'rI.' Henry Fallow Forty-Fivl,

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M5 James Mellette Wham, Jr. Olllfloorc'Hll11ls1'asi . . . wffah- hcssvs - monffy, Fords, lioafs, and girls . . . lialvy-lnlnw elgws add fo J'in1n1g's good looks . . . CllU1'1gl'GlJl0 moods . . . guivf, vandid, and SUVIIUIIS-H1lH!'ll'fl . . heart of gold. Connie Joann Wigley Easy going .... s ports lozwr . . makes fI'lJz IlfiS by lwing om' . . . Clripvs a liig jle ll01l' laxi . . . 'zwiwi' Cl frozvn . . . flllfill-lll1llIIl'f'fl Jo, Forty-Four Virginia Delle Wilder Newer HlC'6fS a sfrahge'r . . . Clzarlic ' . . . arlisfic fingers . . . has fhaf inner glow . . . a f'llf'4'l'jj voir-ff, as radiant smile, and al lovely fave . . . raiwf hind- lihvss and znlaffvz-fvfl clzarm. S E N I O R S Robert Paul Warts G11at . . . not what he says but when he says il! . . . famed flat-lop . . . perpetual motion . . . devilish gleam . . . speaks to ffircfryone - girls fwice . . . zn- flohzifalale spirits. Clyde Larry Wehunt VVee Bit . . . grease mon- key . . . pencil behind his Pav' . . . his eyes reflect his charac- ter . . . takes his zvorlf seiriously pint-sized with peppy pei'- sonaliiy . . . C0l7ZH'?677d0,l?l6 man- hers. Y Q . V? ,X 13 X! I

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Reviewing Our Search Searching-this one small word seems to express the aim of our Senior Class. For twelve years we have searched, and found, and searched again. We began our search back in 1948 as shiny-faced, frightened little children. Hanging shyly behind our mothers' skirts, we entered the first grade. After becom- ing accustomed to our teachers and the strange surround- ings, we began to talk and to make new friends. We were assigned to tables of six, where we were to work during that first year. Even in the first grade the boys noticed the girls. Why, Harry League saw to it that he was the only boy at a table with five girls. By the time we entered the second grade, we felt that we were well seasoned in the three R's. We did not realize that we had taken only the first step toward learning. As we began the third grade, we shrank from the terrifying subjects that were being thrust upon us. Geog- raphy, adjectives, fractions-how could we possibly learn about things whose names we couldn't even pronounce? We approached the fourth, then the fifth grade, only to find our first exams awaiting us. We now began to realize that our search for knowledge would carry us farther than we had expected. But amidst the work, there was the wonder of first love. However, love is a fleeting thing, and we won hearts and lost them all in the same day. ln the sixth grade we were faced with still another obstacle. We no longer had one teacher, now we had five! We were growing up. We entered the seventh grade with one thought in mind-we were seniors. The year sped by, and sud- denly graduation was upon us. Diligently we planned and practiced, and on a day very similar to this, we heard a class history, poem, and prophecy read. We entered the eighth grade only to be faced with the ignominious title of Sub-Rats, since we were even lower than Rats. We overcame our inferiority com- plexes, however, by attending canteens, where the upper- classmen deigned to dance with us. Finally we were freshmen. We felt a part of the school as we joined clubs, participated in sports, and took part in school elections. This year was especially important, for we were in the new high school building. Everyone marveled at the modern building with all the latest conveniences. We took on a certain air of pride Forty-Six when we realized that, although we would not be the first class to graduate, we would be the first class to spend four high-school years in the new building. As Wise Old Sophs, we proved ourselves worthy of our name. We studied diligently and tackled new subjects with stamina. Our junior year rushed by as our search continued. We presented our class play, Here Comes Charlie, which turned out to be a great success. Our next money- making project was a cake sale. We put our profits together, and by careful planning and much hard work, we were ready to give the seniors a wonderful Junior- Senior. We spent four hours of fun-eating, singing, and dancing on the lawn of an old Southern plantation. We all enjoyed graduation that year, for we were eager to step up to the title of King Senior. After a peaceful summer vacation, we returned to the hectic rush of our senior year as we edited The Clintonian and Sentinel. Gone were the dull homeroom periods. Gone was the rush to leave school as the dismissal bell rang. Our magazine drive took every available moment as we worked to finance our class excursion to Washlng- ton. But our thoughts of Washington were soon dimmed as we struggled with the biggest headache of all- research themes. Christmas holidays afforded an oppor- tunity to work on the themes, and soon they were com- pleted. Now we could plan for Washington. During our trip we became blissfully oblivious of everything except fun. Through the well-planned tours, we learned much about our country, its laws, and its history. We returned to a rush of activities that led ultimately to the attainment of one of our goals. We signed annuals, feasted at banquets, and above all, studied and reviewed for exams. Now :our senior year is a wonderful memory. And as I stand before you, our school days pass as a bright dream. We are on the threshold of life, and our search has just begun. let us then be up and doing, With a heart for any fate, Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait. Claire Smith Class Historian