Good Counsel College - Vestigia Yearbook (White Plains, NY)

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wa v? Sf If Eli sa. Suddenly there is a tinkling of bells, you, radio friends and listeners, need no introduction to the Belle of Good Counsel, Miss Annaebell Shirley. Rumor has it that she has progressed so far as to ring the Westminster Chimes. A few steps behind Miss Shirley is a trim, unobtrusive little Hgure, we recognize her as Irene Rogalin, Ph.D., who, after constant urging, has forsaken her literary pursuits for an evening of pleasure. The weight of the books she reviews each week for the Times has bowed her shoulders, yet her eyes still shine as of yore with an eager light. With a short nod she and her companion hurry through the open portals. Now there swings into my line of vision a familiar figure. The throng knows her at a glance and a ringing cheer goes up. It is Miss Cohane, known to the world as the originator of that famous line Drown your troubles in Acidophilus Milk. This great reformer is responsible also for the Public Food Iaw passed in Congress. We have reason to be grateful to Miss Cohane. Pardon me, radio fans, but I have just received a rather violent shock. This very moment a tall, willowy brunette rushes past the microphone and up the steps into the theatre, without so much as a nod, and my friend here informs me that it was Miss jacot. The latest report is that she has signed a contract with the Columbia Broadcasting Company. Miss Jacot, you know, has a way with pianos. But who is this that comes panting up the steps? Ah, one of my rivals. The world knows her as L'Little Betty, author of that widely read column, Spreading the News but we recall her as Elizabeth McGovern, well known in business circles and prominent PathefNews Representative. Striding along at her elbow and talking animatedly in a soft, lowfpitched voice, is a tall, titianfhaired woman. At first I did not recognize her, but as she passed close to me, and I heard that she was conf versing in rhyme, I realized that Miss Chittenden had torn herself away from her secluded home in the hills of Vermont for is it Connecticut or Massachusetts?j in order to meet again her less famous classmates. Here is a real treat for the fans. Miss Eileen Walshe, her platinum blonde hair gleaming against the collar of her luxurious fur wrap, her eyes cast down, is walking hesitantly up the narrow aisle. Her latest pamphlet on home making, just published last week, was so well received by housewives over all the country that Miss Walshe is preparing a series of lectures on the same subject. I just offered her the microphone, but she blushed, whispered, I have nothing to say, and disappeared into the theatre. The crowd seems to be excited. Three names are carried from lip to lip-Helen Crimmins, Mary Grogan, and Adelaide Bittner. That is odd. I wonder how the latter found time from the various duties incumbent upon her as manager of a home and advertising manager. You all must have heard her famous saying, It doesn't hurt advertising. After all, she ought to know. Miss Crimmins has not changed in the least. An amusing incident which just occurred will best illustrate the truth of this statement. As the trio began to mount the steps Miss Grogan suddenly 6i5ef6i5s!B6Xaz KJMNEQKBSXQEQZB W

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wa v? Sf If F am Class Prophecy Station G. C. C., White Plains, N. Y., operating on a frequency of 1932 kilocycles by authority of the Federal Radio Commission. Ladies and gentlemen of the radio audience: as you all know, tonight we are about to broadcast the premiere of that widely discussed play, As Time Goes By. This in itself would be an occasion of interest to the world at large but tonight there is an added attraction. The author, Miss Martha Fink, is here in person, and has arranged a theatre party made up of her classmates, who, with her, received their degrees from Good Counsel College in 1932, among whom are numbered dramatists, business women, and patrons of art and literature. While we are awaiting the arrival of these celebrities, I shall attempt to give you some idea of the brilliant scene before me. Either side of the crowded street presents a panorama of seething humanity, men and women eager to catch a glimpse of these great people. Each time that a car draws up to the curb these clamorous spectators strain forward eagerly in the hope that the occupants may be the guests of honor, only to fall back with audible exclamations of disappointment as the newcomer proves to be a comparative nonentity. , Suddenly, the subdued murmur of the goodfnatured gathering swells to an almost deafening volume of sound as the approaching headlights of a huge limousine presage the arrival of a celebrity. This time we are not disappointed, for from the car steps a slim, svelte woman, bowing and smiling to the left and right. She is immediately besieged by enthusiastic persons seeking a word or a glimpse from her gleaming dark eyes. Who is it? Why, none other than Miss Elizabeth Corley, G. C. C., '32, With a last gracious nod the first comer disappears within the portals of the theatre. Suddenly a low murmur of approval runs through the excited throng. A majestic figure sweeps along the narrow path. For a moment, the new arrival, with her escort, holds the centre of the stage. All eyes are turned upon her exotic headdress, and a man near the microphone whispers in an awed voice, i'Mademoiselle Cstermanf' the great coiffeur. It is indeed that famous personage, who, by her earnest, untiring efforts and almost unbelievable perseverance has earned the enviable title of Hairdresser to the First Lady of the Land. Hardly has the second arrival passed from view when the awefstricken crowd turns its fickle attention-but with reason. A soft laugh, a glimpse of pearly teeth, and we know that a third celebrity is with us. Miss O'Brien seems a bit subdued tonight, but perhaps the responsibility of her new position as Eastern Representative for the Wrigley Company has done much to suppress her natural effusiveness. We are sure you remember Miss O'Brien as winner of the contest for the most beaming smile in Hoboken, as a result of which she came to the attention of Mr. Wrigley. In a moment she is swallowed up in the throng. 6RE3ef6N6af'36E az K f f I R Merwaweewawe 79

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9f VIE SQT IgG became aware that the hem of her gown had caught upon something. Looking down, she discovered that her friend, Miss Crimmins, had unconsciously planted her foot upon the length of the lovely fabric. TchfTch. Still the same old Helen. We had feared that after the years spent in organizing her great school of the Ballet she must assuredly have changed, but we are happy to admit our error On the other hand Miss Grogan, mincing along beside her friend, has apparently changed a great deal. She carries herself with a new dignity and an air of queenliness, which makes us wonder if the rumors we have heard of foreign royalty can be true. As the three fade from sight a handsome Studebaker eight draws up to the curb, the door opens and Miss Natalie Cooper alights briskly. The years seem to have treated her kindly, and she moves with her characteristic alertness and vigor. Miss Cooper, you may recall, won fame as the Librarian who could answer any question, and has recently opened a select School of Library Science. You probably would not recognize these two arrivals if they came separately, but since they are together you surely know them. The tall, slightly stooped blonde, Marie E. Kelley, is inclining her head at an angle of 75o in order to hear the running fire of comment from the lips of Miss Hickey, whose head barely reaches her companions shoulder. These two have never been known to leave each other's side, and, if rumor can be heeded, Nan expects to take up her permanent residence in Yonkers before long. There in her spare time she will act as critic of Miss Kelley's work, The Last Laugh, that magazine of sofcalled wit. The new arrivals are coming now in groups of three and four. Miss Virginia Campbell, prominent club woman and Feminist leader, known for her line work in the Put White Plains on the Map drive, sweeps graciously by, followed by an exotic figure, whom we know as the Toast of Kisco. It is the new Catherine Moran, sans inhibitions, and the breathless throng bursts into spontaneous ap' plause, which the guest acknowledges by a gay wave of her bejeweled hand. Following closely upon her footsteps, comes a woman of medium height stunningly gowned. No wonder the crowd gasps in wonder and admiration, for they are looking upon New York's most stylishly dressed woman, Miss Mary Drury. We understand that when in college, Miss Drury dis' tinguished herself in the art of letter writing, and greatly astonished her friends when she failed to enter the literary field. I have been wondering all evening why so many of our guests own Cadillacs, but with the ap' pearance of Miss Moretta McKown, publicity agent for the Cadillac Company, the reason is made clear to us. Miss McKown's sales talk has proved irresistible, as we may well believe, seeing the indomitable light of determination in her dark eyes. But who is this new arrival? Ah,that walk-MI knew it was familiar! The young woman known to her friends at G. C. C. as Marie Troise, has made the home her vocation, although to do so she sacrificed a promising art career. Perhaps a picture of a little vinefcovered cottage has something to do with her decision. gxs-J5ef96X5J96Xs sewing JMMEJBGMEJB 81