Hewitt School - Venturer Yearbook (New York, NY)

 - Class of 1956

Page 27 of 80

 

Hewitt School - Venturer Yearbook (New York, NY) online collection, 1956 Edition, Page 27 of 80
Page 27 of 80



Hewitt School - Venturer Yearbook (New York, NY) online collection, 1956 Edition, Page 26
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Hewitt School - Venturer Yearbook (New York, NY) online collection, 1956 Edition, Page 28
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Page 27 text:

When I was a child in New Orleans, the neighbor's children and I had a wonderful World of our own behind some big trees at the far end of our garden. The world was called India, always named with reverence, for in this word combined the colorful and fascinating thoughts that made up our game. To India we brought all kinds of treasures-shells, pretty paper, colored glass, and I remember especially, shiny bits of tiles we had dug up behind the empty house at the end of the garden. The rule was that everything had to be found. We could not bring anything bought, for that would have taken the wonder out of our game. Oh, it was a glorious world! We would sit for hours on the grass under the big peach trees, fingering our pretty objects and telling stories about anything colorful, always in some way related to India or some such far country that had caught our fancy. -Louise Paine Tucson, Arizona, where I've lived for several years, is the home of a famous rodeo and rodeo parade, attended by visitors from all forty-eight states. The rodeo queen leads the parade in a resplendent Wes-tern riding costume-usually all white with colorful trimming. She is photographed, feted at balls, and is the heroine of Rodeo Week. Seeing her and hearing about her gave me a consuming ambition to be a rodeo queen. Last year the small -town of Willcox, Arizona, gave its rodeo and parade and had a queen contest. Tiny Willcox was to be crowded and jammed with eager spectators. I found I was eligible for the contest. I trained my horse and got out my most colorful Western garb. The day came, and I was in the ring with twenty other contestants. The stands bulged with spectators, cars were parked six deep, and three judges were enthroned. We were to perform one by one. My friends and family all felt, ffavor- itism and loyalty, of coursel, that I was bound to win. I already saw my picture in the paper and also opening the ball with the townis mayor. As my turn came, I rode out to frantic applause from my rooters. My horse and I executed graceful figure eigh-ts. We stopped, we started, we pivoted. No cowgirl of the West ever looked more the part, thought I. My final maneuver was to gallop wildly up to the judges, stop in a cloud of dust, dismount and bow. There was wild applause from all the spectators. Ah, the crown must be mine, I felt. I began to remount my horse, ready to make the last triumphant circle of the ring. As my foot touched the stirrup, my horse bolted and I never did reach the saddle. She tore across the ring and I ended up with my face in -the dust and a 'badly banged elbow. That was the end of Queen Ruth of the Willcox Rodeo. -Ruth Hauemeger 23

Page 26 text:

' , .Off J.. Q 1: i ya K1 A ex? qs ' f I fig' sa' , '44, 4 jf- J lt I - 401, SN- lx- i .1345 u, , ' f ? , j 4 5, mf' -'EN ff X If fic f' if ll: r ff? ,rl , J 'h- ' 144 ' KJ X A X 5 MW The Seniors Remember One time in the softness of a still, early morning in Spring, I was out riding my horse and quite by accident, I stumbled on a place I had never seen before. It was a little valley nestled on a cliff, overlooking Long Island Sound. I got off my horse and let him roam. I lay down in a little hollow among some silvery, blond grasses that were shimmering and rippling in the gentle breeze. Sometimes I dropped stones quietly and softly into the water far below, but mostly I lay curled up looking at the clouds, and the trees form- ing a protective circle around me. After a While, I got on my horse and rode off. Iive never wanted to spoil the perfection of that day by returning. -Susan Bergman 22



Page 28 text:

Though this happened very recently, it is something I will never be able to forget. Every graduating class wants a perfect senior dance and we weren't going to be an exception. Everything was going to be beautiful and sophisticated, right down to the very last drop of champagne. We picked the committees very carefully and much to my surprise, I was chosen busi- ness manager. Of course I was going to be the best business manager in the history of Hewitt'sl We decided on what vintage champagne would be the best, what color schemes we would use in the decorations, and last but not least, what band we would dance to. My job was to hire the band. The day of the dance came and we all helped to decorate the library, after which we each wandered off in separate directions to our hairdresser's. At seven oiclock we all arrived at the cocktail and dinner party, planned before the dance. All the seniors looked beautiful, and a lot of fun was had by all. At ten we departed for the school and the dance in very high spirits, ready to dance all night, but a very minor problem appeared. As I walked in the school door, ready to dance all night, Mrs. Riggs approached and calmly asked me, Patricia, my dear, where is the orchestra?', -Patricia Shelton Mummy and Daddy say that elves wander about the house on Christ- mas Eve ready for Santa Claus. I know there is a Santa Claus, but are the elves really in the house? Mummy even told me once that elves played games in the hallway every night, eating crumbs that had dropped from my cookies. The night before your sixth Christmas you go into the pantry. You push the heavy white chair to the shelf. If you spread your legs high enough, you can pull yourself onto the chair. When you stand up your hand can almost reach the gumdrop bag. Up, up high on tiptoe you go. Your lingers catch the crinkly paper of the red and white candy. One jump into the air and you are down. All over the house you go. Behind heavy red curtains, in the fireplace, behind the bronze lamp, and under the table Candelabra. In every corner you can find, you hide a gumdrop. If there are really elves, as Mummy says, all the candy will be gone. You run to tell Mummy your plan. Carefully, Christmas morning, you look into each hiding place for tiny elf footprints or an uneaten candy. Every gumdrop is gone. Then there really are elves! You run to your shoe Santa filled at the fireplace. A puppet with a big red nose is laughing at you. You laugh back at the silly puppet. Near the puppet in a crinkly little bag are some red and white gumdrops- those the elves couldn't finish. --Sarah McNeal 24

Suggestions in the Hewitt School - Venturer Yearbook (New York, NY) collection:

Hewitt School - Venturer Yearbook (New York, NY) online collection, 1956 Edition, Page 37

1956, pg 37

Hewitt School - Venturer Yearbook (New York, NY) online collection, 1956 Edition, Page 71

1956, pg 71

Hewitt School - Venturer Yearbook (New York, NY) online collection, 1956 Edition, Page 16

1956, pg 16

Hewitt School - Venturer Yearbook (New York, NY) online collection, 1956 Edition, Page 6

1956, pg 6

Hewitt School - Venturer Yearbook (New York, NY) online collection, 1956 Edition, Page 10

1956, pg 10

Hewitt School - Venturer Yearbook (New York, NY) online collection, 1956 Edition, Page 22

1956, pg 22


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