Emerson College - Emersonian Yearbook (Boston, MA)

Page 32 text:

GRADUATE STUDENTS In 1959-1960 there have been more graduate students at Emerson College than in recent years, and it is regretted that there are not more of them pictured here. L. to R. Elizabeth Kidney, Alma Johnson, Saeed Alizai. Others are: Gerald Andelman, Annette Barron, Rebecca Beckwith, Sarah Bernhardt, Karen Clain, Dean Cronis, Handhan Datta, Charlotte Ettinger, William Ferrara, Sally Fishman, Dorothy Geotis, Helen Lerner, Peter Mac- Lean, Bernadette MacPherson, Harry Morgan, John Murphy, and Richard Witham. The literary worth of what follows could, we suppose, be seriously questioned, and perhaps also the turns that our flights of imagination have taken. We offer, in the spirit o f the care- free student who is about to make his exit, a few words in that most exacting iambic pentameter about some of the teachers and people we have known at Emerson. The editors happily thank B J M for his productive collaboration. At Ahlin’s words our old ideas were riven, And that is why to him this book is given. In Freshman year w r e mushed through POE With Ken Crannell and frozen Sam Magee. M iss Dodge has found our heads are not of wood, The English language we have learnt real good. The Registrar has taxed us with Group C, Fin, Edu, Lan, Mat, Mus, and then Group D. In Gray-Smiths classes we have learned of schisms, All tempered with some witty syllogisms. With Maxfield no one would attempt to cheat her When she says Take this nickel to the meter.” We trust we did not make Miss Parkhurst blue When we persisted with familiar ”du”. If one will kindly check on Reynold’s dates, Tis proof he’s not the bastard son of Yeats. Beneath the hat of purple velveteen, Not hiding, Mrs. Kay is to be seen. The President is jolly as a boy, Because he has a special treasure — Joy. We’ve learned Dean Pierce’s course like hypnotism, ’Twas Calvin, Roman roads, and Feudalism. To Holland all our money we did funnel, By this we mean the Bursar, not the tunnel. The Life with Father was a missing play, Twas hidden in the stacks by Rachel Day. If failing Broadcasting you turn to Dudley, you’ll find Rodin’s The Thinker much more cuddly. The bulbous nose on old King Lear is fine, It doesn ' t come from booze, it comes from Stein. In singing we have soared to heights unmatched, Our Mr. Pettitt has our hearts unlatched. The mail-box hallway jam may cause a roar, Nor caused by students — only M. Bookstore. Thass-Thienemann has shown from German Blut Our phallic fears and complexes nicht gut. Sharp Dr. Postle’s full and pointed notes, In years to come may score us many votes. Well traffick’d Beacon Street should have a ferry, A tunnel’s being dug by C. C. Perry. To teach us speech was very sacrificial Phonetically we still say Mama MishelT In Mrs. Nowak’s hands we place our fate, For all eternal curfews we are late. With Mrs. Morris we could stay for days As Renaissance acumen she displays. Bohemians, Camilles, the witches trio Are in the Drama office — say — where’s Leo? Our interest in Chaucer quickly grows As Vogel tells of smutty fabliaux. Our weekend hopes were often changed to vapors, When we sat to write Doc Bender’s papers. Exams with Mr. Norton were so frightening If the semester did not end, we’d still be writening (?) 28

Page 31 text:

M. ANNETTE BARRON Emerson College, B.S. STANLEY T. FUDALA Boston University, B.F.A. GERTRUDE BINLEY KAY Emerson College, A.M. PATRICIA C. TRAPP 27

Page 33 text:

Seniors