College of New Rochelle - Annales Yearbook (New Rochelle, NY)

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lllum tlu ' (EnUtgp Mas Nrut AIN I ANGELAS or rather (since it has outgrown its christened name) the College of New Rochelle had an eventful babyhood and, if a noisy infancy is any forecast of adult strength, must be destined for great things when it shall have attained years of discretion. It was undeniably noisy, even boisterous. And yet I don’t remember that it gave its guardians any serious cause for worry or kept any body up nights. The truth was — nobody wanted to go to bed then and, as there was no legislation regarding lights, nobody had to. The first class exercise, (there was no formal opening) was September 12, 1904. It was extremely early in the month for a College to begin work and few of the Pioneers were present. The honors of the occasion belong to Cornelia Hannan, Anna McLoughlin (now Sister Cephas) and Mary McDonnell. Winifred MacDonnell arrived that same day, I think, and the rest of us trailed along through the first four months, Marie Lalor arriving very shortly after, while I was one week late. Anna Brennan (now Mrs. Vanderpoel) came next. Irene Jennings and Josephine Larkin waited until Thanksgiving and Marion Hennessey and Agnes Keating came with the first Mid-years. There were transients, also, but they must be nameless here as no method of identifying their footsteps on the shifting sands of that first year suggests itself. The three “oldest inhabitants” whom I have already mentioned were the sole members of that first Livy class taught by dear old Father White of blessed memory. There was little of the discovere r’s ecstasy about those first weeks. Our emotion partook more of the lonesome helplessness of the humble crew, forced to do things all out of their own heads. Nothing was ready-made. Precedent had to be manufactured and the consciousness of the exactions of future classes did not make the task easier. And yet there were compensations. A pleasing vagueness existed among the faculty as to our rights and privileges. Our wonder-working slogan “they do it in other Colleges’’ always won the day. Having no laws to tempt infraction, we were, what is usually called, law-abiding. Indeed, there was not room enough for discord — in those days things were on a very small family scale. One cottage held us all. It was “Number 9“ which then stood directly opposite the path leading to the Castle. “Sky Parlor” has since become the generic name for all upper college rooms but it originally applied to Anna Brennan’s little room which was “sous les toits” for we were crowded in everywhere. Things were very intimate. It was customary o’mghts to gather together for a conversation feast. Usually the whole College could arrange itself comfortably, (allowing for some overlapping) on a small bed. Then there were ghost stories and stories of “things that happened back home’’ with the usual refreshments to top off. Our meals were served in the Seminary Refectory. That, by the way, brings to mind the present day changes. Page Twenty

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John Schuler, Ph. D. Professor of History 3Farultij A. B. Frediani, A. M. Professor of Romance Languages , Madame de Klopotoff Professor of German Estelle H. Davis Professor of Oral English Ricardo Manrique Professor of Physical Training Alexander McGuirk Professor of XDocal Music Eleanor G. Colgan Instructor in Special Methods Mary C. Kelly Instructor in Special Methods Eleanor Mellen Instructor in Special Methods Jennie Naughton Instructor in Art A, F. Pinto Director of College Orchestra Page Nineteen

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Then we were on close terms with the parent institution. Many strong friendships existed between the Seminary Seniors and the College. The Recreation Hour in the evening and the Study Period in the afternoon were common ground for both. The latter ignominious institution was soon abolished and when we grew large enough to fill our own table, we moved to what is now the Chaplain’s Dining Room, and so we saw less and less of the younger girls. Our class room, we only needed one, was the front part of the present College Library. The same sulky plaster Dante adorned the bookcase and there was a portable blackboard on which Mother Augustme conjured up ghastly sines, cosines and variables out of the “infinity ’ which was their proper sphere. The original teaching force underwent many changes during the first year. Mother Augustine in the Mathe- matics department, Mother Carthage in History, Professor Smagnan in French, Madame Sinagnan in German and Miss Fay in elocution were the only stationary classes as regards teachers. Dear Mother Carthage, who died the following term, held a variety of chairs in different subjects. English was most chaotic of all. There was Misc Roberts, Miss Klapp and a number of interregnums, all more or less disturbing until Miss Bush came in our Sophomore year to make us wells of Fnglish, pure and undefiled. There were no electives. Everyone took everything and “music extra.’’ There seemed to be a general desire to “brush up,” as it was called, and there was a tremendous amount of well-meant though futile practice. A popular course was Friday Afternoon Etiquette. Under the kindly escort of Professor Rutledge, (who must have received his degree from the Old School) we enjoyed the weekly pleasure of “meeting the King.” Mr. Pallen came on Mondays to deliver a course of lectures on Dante. The spirits in the “Paradise” couldn t have been more exquisitely well behaved than we were during that hour. Dr. Manning gave an occasional talk on physiology. On Saturdays Miss Tucker regaled us with choice tidbits from the New York City educational scheme. These were our works and looking back, with a vivid remembrance of the small amount of energy we put into each, (always excepting Mary McDcnnell and Anna McLoughlin) I think we must have been judged principally by the faith that was in us! But there was a social side. The first and greatest event of the year was a sort of combination affair, a lecture on the Nile, moving-picture show, banquet, all of which were as nothing to the main feature — the first wearing of the cap and gown. Oh, those first scholastic iirpedimenta ! Like the curses of the Jackdaw of Rheims, they hung on our backs “In sitting, in standing, in lying, In walking, in riding, in flying.” Moving pictures had not then fallen into disrepute and, viewed through the tassel of a neighbor’s cap, might even be considered aesthetic. The banquet, too, was a brilliant affair only marred by the fact that, when we were called upon to respond to toasts, we were too dazed by magnificence to utter a syllable. Most of the sociableness of that Page Twenty-one