Essex District High School - Argus Yearbook (Essex, Ontario Canada)

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THE ARGUS ANNUAL GODDESS VESTA O. Mother Vesta, who dost guard The sacred hearth.—our fireplace. Your praise from every single hard Math flowed with love from all our race. Your bright re d flames come leaping up 1963—MAYBE! Bright May sunshine flooded the darkest corners of the earth as once more I found myself in Essex. Thirty years had passed, and I had returned to visit the scene of my happiest days —those spent at the Essex High School. To comfort us in time of dread. To heat the meal o’er which we sup. And guide us in the paths we tread. Walking down Talbot Street with its magnificent boulevards, statues, fountains and sunken gardens. I tried to imagine that street, where on rainy Your spirit lives in every blaze. days years ago. one had to wade Your image in the life-like flame. through the puddles and mud to reach Whose steady glow to us portrays his little house of learning . Well The love that binds us in thy name. did I remember how Guernseys roamed where that statue stood of—what! Not Your altar, which our gifts have graced. Where solemn vows of love are giv ' n. Where every child is blest and placed. Is the hearth for which brave men have striv ' n. ' Tis here that all our family prayers Are offered up in thanks to thee. Who dost receive our humble cares. And watchest o ' er the family. The younger daughters of the race Replenish thy bright glowing coals. While every boy with cheerful face. Brings thee wood from o ' er the knolls. At night our final task is done. When from the hearth the ash we dust, For cleanliness is scorned by none. Who in great Vesta put their trust. 0. Mother Vesta, who dost guard The sacred hearth—our fireplace. Your praise from every single bard Will ever flow to all our race. —Mae McGuire. TV-A our old friend Roger Purvis. The nameplate read The Model Husband by Michael Angelo Simpson. It was truly a masterpiece—a great work by a great sculptor. He had skilfully carved those arms of iron and that chest of hair. Yes. the resemblance was striking. But now the school came to view. Behind a grove of trees stood that mighty mansion of humming industry and wasted time. Before me stretched a dazzling view. Beautiful buildings reared against the sky and there among them was what I had known as the Essex High School, but worn and bedraggled it looked among those mighty edifices. Indeed it was dwarf¬ ed among them. I entered the most imposing of the structures, and quickly stepped to the door of the principal ' s office. What a sight met my eyes! Marshall McClelland, bald and rotund, was chuckling over a glass of soda water. On recognition, he jumped to meet me. his double chin completely covering his tie. his paunch straining at the buttons of his vest, and his bald pate shining from the reflection of a huge chandelier above .

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THE ARGUS ANNUAL CHOOSING A CAREER Boys and girls of Essex High, you have now reached the age when you are to decide your future course of life. Many of your school careers will end with high school: others will go on to college and become great doc¬ tors. lawyers, financiers, etc. What are YOU going to become? When you have obtained your sen¬ ior matric”, you have attained life’s second great success. For you who will not have the opportunity of going on to college, the question arises. Now that I have my matriculation, what good is it going to do me. if I can ' t go on to college? True! Your mathematics, your languages, and your sciences will be of little practical value to you in later life, but in learn¬ ing them, the ability to think, and to make your own decisions has been taught you. You should be mentally above the average boy or girl who has not attended high school. Hence, if you cannot make a success of life, with this ability to think, the fault must lie in yourself. There are many courses open to those unable to attend college. Tf you have excelled on the sports field dur¬ ing your high school days, you might make a success of an athletic career. Professional jobs are waiting to be filled in baseball, hockey, tennis, and scores of other sports. If you are not athletically inclined, the business field has a wide scope of position to be fil¬ led. Perhaps you have the silver tongue of the salesman, the originality o! thought of the newspaper editor, or the practical mind of the office hand. If so you might well succeed in the business field. If there is some trade which appeals to you. you can qualify yourself for that trade by attending Technical school or by serving an ap¬ prenticeship. Lastly, but by no means least, is the good, old-fashioned farm¬ ing. Farming offers the same oppor¬ tunities for success as any other field. You must remember that it is not so much your opportunities, as what von make of your opportunities, that leads to success. Now, let us discuss the case.of those who are going to attend college. You must first choose your career, and in so doing, be sure to choose something which appeals to you. You cannot make a success of something which you do not like. Moreover, you must not be discouraged if you have not been particularly clever in high school. Cleverness, while being a great help, is not essential to success. Some philo¬ sophers say that if we desire a thing hard enough, and if we are willing to work hard enough, we can attain any¬ thing we wish. Louis Pasteur, the great French physician, is an example of this. At school, he was considered dull and slow-witted, vet he became one of the world’s most famous re¬ search men in medicine. And so. pupils of Essex High, you might consider yourself as so many Louis Pasteurs, who can make a suc¬ cess if you are willing to put forth the effort. You all have a place to fill in this world. Find yours! Work hard, and success lies just around the corner. —Norman Heath. Form V OUR CONQUERING HEROS Ludos manumque cano, Essico qua prima ab schola Venit, omniaque celeriter superavit. Multa sustinerunt, illi gravihusque iac- tatus Rebus propter invidiam Lemintonum autiquam. Acriter bella Amerstburgo multa longe lateque gesserunt. Hum inferrentque tropaea; genus unde victores, Heroesque inter tnoenia alti gymnasii scholae. —Donald Richardson Getting out a paper is no picnic. If we print jokes, folks say we are silly. Tf we don ' t they say we are too ser¬ ious. If we publish original matter they say we lack variety. If we publish things from other papers we are too lazy to write. If we are rustling news, we are not attending to news in our own depart¬ ment. If we don’t print contributions, we don’t show proper appreciation. If we do print them the paper is filled with junk.

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THE ARGUS ANNUAL Row upon row of books filled this elderly gentleman’s office, yet occupy ing the place of honour, was a group of gilded portraits. All the members of our old staff smiled serenely down from the canvas. The dignity of ex¬ pression. and the excellence of form were carefully wrought by the master artist. Raphael Sadler. A long row of push-buttons on the wall controlled countless contrivances throughout the school. One machine automatically printed seating plans: there was another machine to compare examination papers with a certain standard and mark them in this man¬ ner. A large dial controlled a tele¬ vision set. through which any student in the school could be “bawled out for missing his subway and thereby being late. In one corner was a ma¬ chine in which one could speak and a minute later be presented with a type¬ written sheet of the words just spoken. Again, off through gaily-coloured halls as long as streets, he led me to the auditorium. It was a great am¬ phitheatre. seating thousands, with a stage in the centre for plays, concerts, boxing and wrestling. Here, too, was a screen for moving pictures which were shown every day as a diversion for the students when the work be¬ came boring. On then we went to the dance hall. A beautiful terrazo floor reflected the dim. rose coloured light from myriads of imitation candles set in alcoves in the wall. Gorgeously decorated was the orchestra pit. filled, at the present time, with all instru¬ ments available. Across the block, we entered the newest of the buildings—the gymnas¬ ium and swimming pool. On the ground floor was the pool with its marble floors, its shining diving-tower and huge thermometer registering the temperature of both air and water. Hack in the dim days of 1933. this would have been the ideal place for Fat Neice. In a door at the end. I spied dressing rooms—rooms which spelled comfort. Plush chairs filled the lobby and farther on. row upon row of wire-caged stalls filled the long halls. In each of these was a shower and a spacious locker. F.ach door had a combination lock which kept out all the “borrowers”, “lippery Jake” O’Connor would have been at a loss to apply his talents in such an establishment. Boys of this day could never know what locker room congestion and locker-room “borrowing” can amount to. such as thirty vears back in the dreamy days of 1933. Picking one room as an example of the others. Principal McClelland led me to the spacious well-furnished Fourth Form. I was dazed by the ela¬ borate equipment of the room. Kach desk-set was a marvel of modern en¬ gineering—a mechanical contrivance all in itself. The deep plush seats were swivel chairs fastened to the floor. The desks were marble-topped with an ivory ink-well at the front. On each desk many push-buttons, similar to the principal ' s, controlled numerous indi¬ vidual electrical appliances. One large button controlled the desk of books which slid from beneath the writing desk, and locked automatically when pressure on the button was released. On one side of the desk was a fan which cooled the overworked student during hot and sultry summer days, while on the other was a heater to warm the frozen ears, nose anti body of anyone who rashly ventured forth on cold mornings. Then, too, rising from the front of the desk was a tele¬ vision set. which the student might use at will when the studies of the day became too tedious and called for a diversion. Looking forth from the window, I beheld a cinder track and a huge sta¬ dium. As I was later told, the stadium had been dedicated by that million¬ aire sportsman, and wealthy philan¬ thropist. Earl Schulties. and was con¬ sequently known as Schulties Stadium. Coming towards the building. I notic¬ ed the janitor. Mr. Oliver Wilcox (still riding a horse) came from the city of Woodslee each day to perform the sacred duties, in times past skilfully taken care of by Mr. Garney Johnston. Drifting back to the present through a hazy and indistinct future, one is temped to ask. could such a tale, by any stretch of the imagination, be within the realms of possibility? —Don Richardson, Form IV