Emerson College - Emersonian Yearbook (Boston, MA)

Page 33 text:

The EMERSONIAN for 1940 The smoker was redecorated. George Velardo’s murals had inhabited it with wall portraits. In 1937, Julius Caesar, in modern dress, visited Boston. Our original pantomime program was followed in quick succession by our one-act plays while down town a new play called “Our Town tried out in Boston previous to Broadway. Our sophomore recital program brought a new method of ob- jectifying poetry. Our class in Sophomore Writing was just getting its grip on things literary. There we resolved to have some place to put this story of our college life as soon as it was written. Our drama course with Mrs. Kay brought forth, from our labors over stylized, realistic and dramatic technique, two groups of one-act plays. We were now an integral part of Emerson life. This was the mid-stream. It was in 1938, after the September hurricane, that Maurice Evans brought his “Hamlet to town just as our Major Plays of Shakespeare class was ab- sorbed in the study of the play. It is a beautiful memory. We did “Prunella” then, and were privileged to choose P. G. Wodehouse’s “Damsel in Distress” for our next production. Long nights of rehearsal could hardly dim the vivid thoughts we remember even now. Our Modern European History class was discussing the problem of aggressive nations in the balance of world power. Our own balance was beginning to seem precarious. Given in junior recitals that year were, “Journey’s End,” a MacArthur fantasy, one of Leacock’s inimi- table things, and Noel Coward’s “Vortex.” For years there had been four little red books with which we were acquainted. They outlined Dr. Emerson ' s philosophy of the evolution of expression. We were just beginning to under- stand exactly what he meant and were adjusting ourselves to the new and broad- er life that hummed through Boston ' s old streets. Just starting, you know, for life doesn’t get understood very easily. We presented a group of one-acters from three-acters as our last production of the season. Our Prom stood then, as now, unique in our social activities. Tony Molyneaux, our Prom Queen, almost wept as she received that armful of American beauties. They have withered long ago, but not so our memories. In the late spring, Mrs. Kay’s ' 40 Grand became our token of appreciation for all the happiness we had work- ing under her direction. Also in the late spring, we were the first class in six years to catch the seniors on Sneak Day. The European situation was at a head in the September of 1939; the roll- ing impetus we had long surveyed with growing concern was piling to a climax. Our Revival play was “Twelfth Night.” Many of us had wondered whether or not we would be back at school, but such is the hold of Emerson that here we were, thirty-one of us. Once you get back you wonder if your memory of the place is ever true. There is so much of what poets call life here, and it is so conceived that you can’t take any away without giving to it. We pre- sented an extra performance of the “Jest” just before Christmas; when we re- turned from vacation, it had happened — war. They told us so simply, a three 1 29 ]

Page 32 text:

T h e EMERSONIAN for 1940 We’ve been waiting a long time to write a story of these last four years. It all began in the middle of September, 1936, when we first stepped inside that grilled doorway and were confronted by the chaste beauty of our classic staircase. It was then we realized how much a threshold might mean to us. We soon became acquainted with what went on in the class rooms — strange things and new — much older than we expected. And then we decided that as we grew, Emerson would change around us. You see, it was not that we loved the place less, but simply that it came to matter so soon that we wanted a feeling of taking part of it along with us. Selfish, perhaps, but kids are like that, and we were kids, sixteen or eighteen then. T hose years have gone more in the fashion of a movie calendar ' s flipping pages than in any other way. We were freshmen. Leslie Howard played “Hamlet” that year. Roose- velt had been in office for four years and six months. Our country was in a period of colossal construction. Everyone was telling us that it looked like a bright 1940. We thought so, too. Freshman-Sophomre night and our Inter- Class dance initiated us, and we were soon confronted by a class pantomime which progressed as though inspired. We got enough of a taste of night re- hearsal and curtain call to request an advanced pantomime course the next year. 1 28 ]

Page 34 text:

The EMERSONIAN for 1940 letter word, war, — there on the other side of the world. The time we had for college was growing short. Our history students said we were lucky, but we were wondering. Plans for this year book, which picked up a tradition lost six years ago, were under way, and here was our long-awaited opportunity. We had two groups of recitals this year, and our classes have grown toward the last phases of preparation for Commencement. Education and social work seemed to blend into our curriculum plan almost before we noticed them. Somehow or other winter has passed over Boston, the last time some of us will see it here, and spring has come back on the esplanade again. “Our Town is prepared for production and “Once In A Lifetime chosen for our commencement play in the new theatre. Things are slowly getting themselves done. Our Recital Tea, last socials, and graduation are all but over. Any day now one then an- other of us will sneak up to the front hall and look on the same staircase we saw four years ago. Some of us will weep and others won’t, but we will all take away some of what has happened here and hope that what we gave back is as good to live with as what we have. But no matter what else we do, we’ll all stand on the threshold — and think. Oh, the acute joys and throes of first love are incomparable to those ex- perienced when cast upon the troubled waters of education as mere insignificant college Freshmen. Today we, as Juniors, return in memory to a golden treasure chest reminiscent of those days wherein lie many souvenirs that have been care- fully and tenderly tucked away. As we lift the cover, a bit of paper flutters out, and we find written upon it the names of our first class officers, President Bernice Lynch, Vice President Natalie Houseman, Secretary Lester MacGregory, Treasurer Stanley Werenski, and Student Government Representatives Peggy Carrol and William Ackley. Thinking of them recalls our first class performance on Freshman-Sopho- more Night, and the fun we had. Reaching into the chest we find a huge butcher knife so suggestive of our Freshman Pantomime, the bloody, the ter- rible, the Mistress Bluebird. Another keepsake we discover is a lovely, fragile seashell, recalling, perhaps, the happiest memory of all. our Freshman Class Picnic at Betty Witherall ' s summer home. Can ' t you Juniors still smell the tang of the salt air, and the fragrance of hamburgers and onions — oh happy day! Margaret Roberts. 1 30 ]