Edgewood High School - Sylvan Yearbook (Edgewood, PA)

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ildwe SYLVAN Senior Class History Ho-hum! Gosh, spring has got me. This may be a study hall, but I certainly don't feel like studying. Ho-o-o-o-hum. Say, where in the world am I? Look at that marvelous slide and those sand- boxes! Why, this looks like the Edgewood kindergarten. But how strangely all the children are dressed. Am I seeing things, or do I recognize some of the mem- bers of the class of 1936? How quickly the room has changed! This room has blackboards around the wall, and there's a big spelling chart in one corner. Miss Coursin is standing there pointing out one of the words. C-A-T. Of course, this is the class of '36 in first grade. The room has changed again! Goodness, old Scrooge didn't have anything on me. That group of boys and girls sitting in the front of the room must be the reading class. It looks very much like second grade to me. The room has changed slightly now, and there is a group of our class standing around muttering something. I wonder what it is. Could it possibly be the multiplication table? Fourth grade. I can see Miss Grubb and Miss Dickson leading us out to recess. Now we're back in a class room, and the class has settled down to take a Studebaker Test in multiplication and long division. What puzzled expressions on some of the faces! Our surroundings seem to have changed again, and most of the class still looks puzzled. Now I see why. It's because of those strange figures on the board. Miss Piper and Miss Kelly call them fractions. How tall everyone has grown? It's much easier to recognize each one now. The whole class seems to have more confidence, too. Sixth graders, the biggest and oldest class in the building. Now where in the world am I? Oh, yes, in the junior high school. Why, here's our class again. Some are in Miss N ewmeyerls room, some in Miss Swiss- he1m's, and some in Mr. Gardner's. How much more fun everyone seems to be having, even though such subjects as math. and geography do exist. I can hear some moaning over science and Latin, too. Look? at the crowd of people on the top of that hill! The illustrious class of '36 is now attending the freshman-senior weiner roast. Although we no longer consider ourselves infants, that seems to be the seniors' conception of us. Here I am back in study hall. The class seems to have gathered for a meet- ing, and jim is saying something about a roller skating party. Oh, I remember. That .was one of the grandest parties ever given by any class land we were only sophomoresj Good grief! How everyone is rushing around. No wonder, the class rings have just come. And what rings! We're the envy of the whole school. But the conversation seems to have turned to the, subject of the prom, a very success- ful one of which the class is very proud. We are now walking slowly down the aisles of the auditorium, each one clasping tightly a diploma. The Commencement exercises are over, a fact which means that we have completed a successful senior year, including a very interesting Washington trip and a very, very successful senior play. Well, what--? Why, here I am still in study hall! Could I have been asleep? Oh, cats, now when am I going to write that class history? 22

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Senior Class Prophecy - And you won't find a car anywhere with better pickup. This announce- ment ended the long recital I had just heard concerning the merits of the Ford car. My instructor had been Bill Charters, reputedly the best Ford salesman in the city. Have you a radio in the car? I asked, hoping to hear a little music after the long tale to which I had just listened. For answer, he turned a switch, and the car was soon flooded with the sounds of one of the more famous of the coun- try's jazz bands, Jim Whittumis. After the orchestral number, an announcer whom I recognized as DeWitt Howell began to dwell on the merits of the Chevro- let, causing my companion to switch quickly to another station. I noticed the station to which he had switched was KEHS, a station whose new manager, Bar- bara Morris, was faced with the task of putting the station back on its feet. A variety program was being presented. We first heard a short play written by Caryl Covert. It had been praised by all the critics, even by Nancy McDonald of the New York Times. I recognized the names of some of the actors, such as Flossie Craighead as the heroine, Dick Aiken in a character role, and Hugh Davi- son as the juvenile lead. Next Jack Crouse, master of ceremonies for the pro- gram, announced Bill Bailey, who crooned the lyrics of the next number. It was a popular song with words by Mary McManus. After that, we heard one of those gossipy news talks by Nancy Keener, who must have done considerable key-hole peeking to achieve such remarkable results. She informed us that Doctor joseph VVest and his wife, the former Betty Coulson, had just left for a Southern tour. She also said that jim VValton, that gay man-about-town, was reported engaged to Marian Hamill. At this point we drew up at a traffic light. Hi, Bill, called a cheery voice, and O'Neil, the traffic cop, waved at us from a car he had stopped. I recognized Joe Weitzel sitting inside the car, looking very uncomfortable, and I presumed that he had probably done a bit too much speeding in his new Roessler roadster. With him in the car was Bob Good. vice-president of a local glass company, who was trying to placate Officer O'N eil. As we started on, a poster caught my eye. It proclaimed in large red letters that a vote for Kirk Colbert was a vote for the people, and that, as the Socialist candidate for president, he assured them all a full meal ticket. Do you think he has any chance of beating Hamilton, the Republican candi- date ? inquired my companion. Not without the backing of the McDowell utility interests, I replied, and you know that Kathryn Beck, chairman of the Board of Directors, would never agree to that. I suppose you're right. But would you mind stopping for a minute? I'd like to get a paper. We drew up in front of a drug store where we bought a paper from the pro- prietor. Dick Linderman. The paper, edited by my old friend, Marjorie Kuh- bach, was owned jointly by john Cvanster and Edward Helmich. On the front page I read with interest the latest case of that brilliant lawyer, Leonard Shirley, in which he defended Miss Peggy Megee in her claim against the Holleran Construction Company. I turned to the sports section. Then I saw 23 The SYLVAN..-2.