College of Mount St Vincent - Parapet Yearbook (Bronx, NY)

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exotic creature in scarlet and ermine. I recognized her to be Jeanne Maher, one of America's ten best-dressed women. She was waving a white orchid at me when somebody knocked me to the floor. and everything went black. When I recovered consciousness I found that I had been caught in the path of a group of rapacious reporters, led by Mary Nicholson, who was wearing a formidable press card and several pads and pencils. They were hot on the trail of some elusive creature named Press Relations. I was struggling violently to escape when the group converged on its prey, Mary Cleland. I was rescued in time to witness the noisy arrival of Kay Banfield and Rita Suttlehan, accompanied by twelve assorted greyhounds from Kay's blue ribbon kennels. I was about to cross the lobby to congratulate editor Grace Lyons on her special tribute to Stephen Vincent Benet in her literary review Friday Forecasts of F iciion, when I spied Mary Jane Lawlor and Ruth Morgan bearing down upon me waving blank contract forms for their advertising agency. Knowing they intended to snare my rabbit farm account, I beat a hasty retreat into the nearest phone booth. It was already occupied by a wildly disheveled and inkstained person wearing a green eyeshade and scribbling frantically on the back of an old envelope. This peculiar character was Kay Curtin, leg man for the Kokomo Herald and still trying to make deadlines. I left hurriedly. Wedging myself into the line of patrons entering the theatre, I found myself in the cross fire of a rapid three-way conversation in French, Italian, and Spanish among Marthe Lavallee, B.A., M.A., PhD., Litt.D., recently returned from the Sorbonne, Theresa Laudo, already known for her remarkable translation of the Italian operas, and Dorothy Aloia, who was mixing up all three languages with great ease. Pulling out my pocket-sized dic- tionary, I discovered that they were discussing the merits of thc.educational system of the Fleming-McGrath Cfounded by Helen and Dorothyj School for Select Young Ladies. French prof Vi Schiavo joined the cosmopolitan group as I left in search of an American friend. Nearby, Jeanne LaMothe and Lauretta Balassi were discussing the European situa- tion on which both historians were authorities. Finding that discussion as unintelligible as the foreign languages, I hurried off to my reserved box. I found it already occupied by four other persons, three of whom were male. The fourth was Mary Mallon and her three escorts were the famous Mallon brothers. Borrowing a pair of binoculars, I scanned the press box and in the position of honor I made out the figureof the renowned drama critic, Mary Devereux, who sat with pencil poised and literary criticism notes at her elbow. But I knew that we had nothing to fear this night from that formidable critic. Just then the light dimmed, once, twice. The orchestra leader raised his baton. The audience quieted expectantly. The lights flickered one last time and went out as the music swelled forth and the curtain was raised on the first act. CATHERINE Cvarxx 111

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