East High School - Orient Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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Senior Class History On a bright and sunny day of September, 1902. the stairs of the old building on South Fitzhugh street creaked and resounded to the tread of many a cheerful youth and maiden. These comprised the class of naughty-fivc, now for the first time starting on that path “where many enter but from which few return.” Some of us were stationed at the so-called Annex on Williams street, where in truth our material and bodily condition was somewhat confined and narrow, but our minds were destined to broaden and develop to a remarkable degree under the cheerful guidance and protecting wing of “Aunt Minnie.” To recount all the deeds that have served to make '05 famous and to cause her name to be written with everlasting glory on the school records would, the Historian fears, he beyond his poor capabilities, however he will strive to mention the most important. Shall we soon forget that 30th of May when our valiant sons, led by the redoubtable “Heinie,” broke through and dispersed the sturdy Sophs and were only hindered from repeating the trick by the junction of some of the Juniors with their lower classmates, thus forming a combination before which we had to give way, though stubbornly lighting every inch of the disputed territory? Or can we forget that memorable base-ball team which so decisively defeated our old rivals, Bradstreets, and humbled in the dust all other opposing teams? Our Sophomore year ushered in a notable event, viz: the completion and occupation of the new building. Here was an edifice for whose welfare and glory we would ever be proud and happy to strive. In her Junior year naughty-live seemed to have reached the climax of her success, hut every day added to her laurels. Our “Prom.” proved to be the most auspicious social function of the year, and one of which the sons of '05 will have every reason to he proud. On Field clay we carried off second honors with the boasted Sophs trailing far in the rear. That '05 banner which floated so proudly and defiantly from the towers that memorable spring day, was a fit emblem of our position as Seniors. The Senior play, to quote from one of our prominent daily newspapers, “was a per- formance which for completeness of detail and forceful portrayal of the characters represented has probably never been equaled by high-class actors.” Commencement and the Senior ball present every indication of success, and, if the sons of '05 give them the same loyal support that has attended all past enter- prises, no fear need be felt for their issue. Never has a class possessed such talent in every branch of school activity. In athletics wc boast of our Babcock. Waugh, and Johnson, our Avery and Crowley, our Snell and our Hanford, all of whom have won fame and glory for their Alma Mater on many a hard-fought field. As debaters we have need to be proud of our Wright, Smith and Foster, who so successfully trailed in the dust the banners of our proud rival, Masten Park. In the way of musical talent wc will always sing the praises of our Snell and our “Puddle.” whom all admit as the backbone of the musical organizations of the school. The great success of tiie ‘Clarion, during the two years when she has been practically in the control of nanghty-five. will amply attest our literary abilities. In Crowley, Williams. Babcock, and Smith we possess dramatic talent never equaled in the annals of the school, while wc have ever listened with delight to the many humorous characters portrayed by “Dick. Our mental equipment, too, is of a high order. We have the business-like activity of Todd, the poetic genius of Smith and “Ted,” the scholarship of Gilman, the political faculties of Wynn, and the grinding powers of Robinson and Earle. 16

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His thoughts were hitter hut again hope came Perhaps once more for him the flower would bloom. And he would surely grasp it e’er it went. Steeper and steeper grew the way. He left The berry-laden hushes and the grass. Only strange herbs grew on the barren soil; And slowly now the sun crept toward the west. The path wound round a mighty rock, that reared Its head toward Heaven many feet. And on The other side a fearful chasm yawned And scarce was room for one to walk between. Weary, Sir Gallian slowly struggled till Upon a sudden he came face to face With an old hag. A peasant woman. Ugly and bent she crept adown the path, nnjJ in her hand she grasped a bunch of herbs. They both stopned short. With bleary eyes she watched Him, and shrank back a little as afraid. Old mother, fear me not,” impatiently He cried, “but tell me does the path Grow broader farther on? Not so, Sir Knight,” She quavering said, It is a single path For far enough.” And wondering she was still. Sir Gallian lay stretched upon the path And bade her pass across him. Reluctantly She stepped upon his body. As she did He saw again, and just beyond his reach, The lily, blooming fairer to a waiting death. And but a movement and ’twas his. Yet if He did, the creature on his back must be Hurled down, downward to waiting death. All motionless he lay. And the old hag. Muttering blessings, tottered down the path. A tiny mound of ashes lay beyond And a wind caught and whirled them o’er the rock. Slowly Sir Gallian rose and staggered on. While hitter thoughts surged through his weary mind That which I want cometh without search And that which I have sought I may not have.” But still he clambered on, he knew not why. Since hope was gone and disappointment sore Lay heavy on his heart. O’er the bright sky The thunder-clouds spread swiftly, warning him To seek a shelter; still he heeded not. Over the mighty mountain broke the storm, And all the way was darkened. Thunder pealed And echoed from a thousand answering cliffs. And ever and anon a line of fire Pierced the dark clouds and left them darker still. And Gallian, hastening onward, missed his way. Twas but a step but there a step meant death. So on the ledge he lav with face upturned, And a great blank fell on his throbbing brain, While the black heavens o’er him swept their tears. The storm raged on, and when it ceased the clouds, Still hovered close about he setting sun, That tinged their edges with a golden light, And turned their darkness to a royal hue. Wandering a moment from its home, a ray Passed through the clouds and touched the upturned face And kissed a beauteous flower that bloomed so near He might have touched it with his out-stretched hand. Within its leaves a fire seemed to burn, And made it glow and glimmer with a light That could not be of earth. And then the blank Was lifted from his mind. His eyes unclosed; With a glad cry he saw and grasped it close, And the soft fragrance stole from out its heart And filled his own with pc'fcct peace and joy. Sir Gallian's search was o’er, the Quest was his; And with a smile upon his lips lie died. —Cliarlollc Dann. IS

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In our class life there has always been a friendly rivalry between factions, which even at times became a little strained, but this fact only served to add zest to our work and to form in our Senior year a glorious climax of unity, concord, and friendship. We are soon to part, but never to forget. Some will go to broader fields of knowledge and culture, others to our respective careers, but we will ever turn back with the fondest of memories to our glorious Alma Mater, recalling the many happy days passed under her protection, the many glorious feats accomplished for her welfare, and the many firm and enduring bonds of friendship formed with her guidance. May we ever p ove ourselves as worthy of her admiration and emulation as we have of her guidance and protection! , William Links, Historian 17