East High School - Orient Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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SENIOR HOYS

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 SENIOR GIRLS

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Class; $ropfjecp IT was while my brother and I were in Egypt, in the year 1930. My brother was making an extensive study of the Sphinx and the Great Pyramid. He wished to get photographs from every angle, and to that end we had pitched our tent at the foot of the Sphinx. On this particular night, Henry had taken a moonlight photograph of the Sphinx, and had promptly gone to sleep in the tent. But I lay awake, looking at the great riddle of the ages looming up in the moonlight; and there in the quiet of the desert a feeling of loneliness swept over me, for I had been abroad five years. I began to think of home and of the class of June, 1912. And looking into the impenetrable face of the Sphinx, I sighed, “How I wish I could see all the class now! ' Then something happened. Perhaps it was the flicker of a moonbeam, but I could have sworn that one of those stone eyes winked. Looking down, noticed, for the first time, a tiny door in the front of the Sphinx. At first, I was frightened, and thought to waken Henry. Then I decided to be worthy of June, 12, and to explore for myself, for the moonlight was almost as bright as day. To my surprise the door yielded to my touch. A musty odor greeted me. Within was a small room. Along one side were ancient Egyptian chests, while on the other, were heaps of age-old oriental fabrics. Overcome by the heavy, penetrating odor, I sank down, still thinking of our class of June, 1912. “A wish, a wish, for a dream of friends Granteth the Lord of the Nile, For the mystic maze to thy wond’ring gaze, Opes at the Sphinx’s smile.” A thousand soft voices seemed to be chanting, and I closed my eyes. I awoke with a start, and found myself sitting in a drug store, looking across the street at a shop which bore the sign, Kammon, Cohn Greenberg, Clothiers. “What shall it bc?“ said a voice. “The Wisner store carries every dessert.” An 1 looked up, Edwin Claudius and I recognized each other. “Welcome to Rochester!” he cried. Suddenly there was the clatter of hoofs and a shout. I ran out and almost knocked down a stout gentleman who was rushing by. “M daughter!” cried Stuart Colvin, for it was he. Elmer Pammenter, the hero of the hour, stood holding the runaway horse, while a small girl stood unhurt by the carriage. “1 just stopped at Crump’s to get a cigar.” Colvin was saying to the crowd which had quickly collected. “Here’s the doctor!” shouted the mob and parted to let Harry Burrell through. I lu nurse is coming! was the next cry, and Catherine Combs appeared. She isn t hurt at all, ’ said Stuart, and drove quickly away. As soon as the crowd had dispersed, I wandered into Hawkins Adams’, Rochester’s largest department store. The floor walker, I found to be Sidney Lightstonc. He had just told me that P arl Hodges and Warner Martin were successful architects, when a familiar voice hailed me. There stood Mabel Hewlett. In my short chat, I learned that she and Plora Hockenbergcr were happily married and living on adjoining farms. She had come in to have a suit fitted by Kurtz, the noted tailor, and to have I)r. Ross, the dentist, attend to her teeth. My surprise at seeing so many friends had not died down as I went out into the autumn air. 14