De La Salle Institute - Torch Yearbook (New York, NY)

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The Torch CLASS PROPHECY S I glanced up at the calendar which informed that it was June 16. 1945, my mind went back over the I5 years separating me from my joyful days at De La Salle. What are my .former classmates doing now was my thought. I turned to the Radiovisor. with which every modern office had been equipped. I threw the switch and an image of one of my classmates flashed on the screen. To my surprise there appeared Front Admiral Bob Curry, U.S.N., in conference with President Artie Glynn. They were talking over the probolition of whether they should buy light rain slickers or heavy rain slickers for the sailors. The next scene was in Hispaniola, where a gaygcaballero by the name of Ray was still engaged in the famous national pastime. Not being interested in this I threw a dozen switches and the scene shifted to the Metropolis of Greater, Bigger, Better, Larger and Smaller New York City, town, village, hamlet Cnot Sthakespearej or what have you. The ceiling is about 10,000 feethvisibility of IO miles and barometer 309. A modern gas chariot appears dashing madly up Fifth Avenue with Bill Brooks at the wheel, singing in a deep soprano, Por the triangles are congruent. McDonough's latest 'com- positionL It was then ten o'clock and the reception in honor of the heroes of the Mars' Expedition was almost ready to begin, and, we are at the city' hall just in the nick of time. In the grandstand directly behind Mayor Bob Nugent stood Police Commissioner Ed. Shaw. Thousands stood bareheaded in the burning sun with exultation in their hearts, and admiration in their eyes. ' In the vast throng was Frank, Quinlan the silver-tongued orator, who is now a radio announcer. Through the mike we hear Frank announces! that a Zeppelin is on its way from Siberia and would soon arrive. A wait . . . a hush . . . Hurrah! the monster of the sky hummed overhead. A bottle of hair grower dropped from the gondola and there was a rush by the bald-headed individuals. Six thousand were injured and two thousand killed in the ensuing conflict. It was the bloodiest battle of many- a day. Next there was a crowd watching a man demonstrating arm chronometers shouting Keep in style, wear one of these highly eilicient timekeepers, guaran- teed to do more minutes per hour than any other in its price class. The worthy salesman was none other than Jack .Donoghue in all his glory. Later Ed Dolan came up to buy a watch. I afterward found out that he was a capper for Jack. Two policemen appeared and Jack as quickly disappeared. When the policemen came closer I recognized them as my old chums Beaton and Dinger the inseparable. Next I tuned in the N.B.C. CnotWNational Biscuit Co.j Radiovisor from Union Square. The square was filled with people patiently listening to a splendid ad- dress being given by Johnny Sheehan, speaker for the Citizens Rights Asso- ciation. He was knocking the college of Tammany because the Department of Aviation was in the Windi He claimed that the people were not getting 1930

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lilitf' 'il'lm:li enough service for their nickle. Most of the passengers on the New York to Paris Commuters Special were obliged to stand. Johnny also advocated the use of all-steel planes in place of the present wood ones, since so many people had been hurt in the recent Times Square Crash. Felix the ofiice cat was apparently too interested in the proceedings and where they came from, for he grew more and more inquisitive. Suddenly, and without the slightest warning the machine gave a mouse-like squeal, Felix jumped, and then after a series of mixed hisses. sparks and howls there followed silence. The machine was dead, and so was Felix, who had investigated with more interest than prudence. There was nothing more to be done here, so I blew out the electric light, snatched my hat, and rushed down stairs into the glaring sunlight and into a bus headed for the ball park. I arrived at the stadium just before the beginning of the- game. Sitting beside me was a very dignified looking gentleman with red hair. His red hair easily identified him as Professor Jim Reidy. Soon we were attracted by a loud, raucous voice shouting, Programs, Programs: no one can enjoy the game without a program and a Worton's cone. What was my surprise on turning to see Joe Cosgrove. the master of ceremonies of the day. Soon after the game had begun Jim, now head of the French Department at Columbia, remarked, Quel style that catcher has. Ah 'grees wid yuh dere, was my answer. It was none other than Bob Hayes, a former catcher from D. L. S. During the third inning I noticed a spry little fellow getting up to bat. He hit the first one for a homer. He appeared to be an excellent runner from the way he tore around the bases. Referring to the score card, I was surprised to see that it was another of my old classmates, Jeff Bourke. Nothing unusual happened during the rest of the game and as soon as it was over I thought I'd go down to the dressing room and ask the manager if I might see Bob and Jeff. I entered and found Frank Dingle, the manager. While talking to Frank a salesman pushed his way through the doorway and walked over towards us. The new arrival was Steve Reidy, now salesman for the Sullivan Liniment Co. We had a great time talking about the good old days back in D. L. S. Then as it was getting late, I made my departure. When I got outside I discovered I had a flat tire. However, directly across the street was an auto repair shop. I managed to get over there without any trouble. Over the shop was a sign bearing in large electric letters Baxter id Daley, Ink. I went into the oflice of the company and found Billy and Jimmy working over their books. The job which they did on my buggy profited them nothing because it cost me not a cent. They explained loquaciously to me the theory of operation and maintenance of their left- handed monkey-wrench. I then left the two scribes laboring with tablet and stylus, hoisted my sail and continued on my voyage. Sailing along Broadway at about 40 knots per hour I was again attracted by another crowd and pulled up to find a meeting in progress. It was Bob Curley, soap-box speaker for his party. My mind went back to his beginnings in De La Salle and I found that he had greatly improved since that long for- gotten year. He was still on his favorite topic, His party in the coming elec- tions. He held his audience speechless while he spoke, and when he concluded pandemonium broke loose. When the cheers had subsided I could hear many iii X' 49