Ipswich High School - Tiger Yearbook (Ipswich, MA)

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'Il514PIllZ4lIllZlilIllZ4lZUIl 551451014 Elilll-lIl'lIl-Ei ' i'ElE ElZl KNEE! 61353414 X El i!! El El' Editorial UNE, 1947 - a date our graduating class has been anticipating for seemingly endless years. And yet, in reminiscing, how quickly has the first phase of our life become a fond memory- book of happy, carefree days. Gradua- tion is the culmination of youthful years, the apex at which we must put away childish things and assume the roles of men and women. Four years in high school have be- come invaluable even at this early stage. In spite of the monotonous homework and teachers whom we often considered unreasonable, we think of the enjoy- ment derived from dances, basketball, football games, and plays. Remember when . . .? Now, our old world isn't actually beaten and weary, it still offers in- numerable opportunities and new fields for the adventurous and capable gradu- ates. Experience being the best teacher, we, as mere novices, must stand stead- fast in reaching our goals. Now par- ticularly are there bitter competition 2 and unwieldly obstacles to overcome, colleges are overflowing with education- conscious students, and employers have a choice of worthy applicants. A di- ploma, however, will have given us, in most cases, a foundation for future achievement. We shall realize in the future how much high school has contributed to our character Qwith perhaps a tang of regret for not having been a little more serious academicallyj. We shall ap- preciate more fully the methods of co- operation, hard work, responsibility, and consideration cultivated at high school. Above all, let our diplomas be a chain, linking together friends with whom we shared laughter and tears. As the last refrain of Auld Lang Syne echoes through the corridors of Ipswich High, letis toast to the future and remember: It's a rough road and a steep road And it stretches broad and far, But at last it leads to a golden town VVhere golden houses aref'

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ilIEIfflD5TilI29DUIRIXll2H!!iIl2!l5KllXlWlXllXIlXllKllxllxlixlliillkilfillXllXKll5 1XlllrtlllllRIN!illl5lXl!Z1lf?illiillXll2illXlIXfllilliilIXlliilldlillliliilldlWlillkflllillfllrdllilirllxl. VOL. XXVIII IPSWIGH, MASSACHUSETTS JUNE, 1947 Published by the Senior Class of Ipswich High School T I G E R S T A F F FACULTY ADVISER .,.., ...S , . . .. . ,... .,.. . Miss E. Margaret Allen EDITOR-IN-CHIEF .,,.. ,. . , ,. , Alfreda Cnik BUSINESS MANAGER l,.. . , .. . George Singer ADVERTISING MANAGER ,... . ,. .. john Benedix ASSISTANTS ..,. . .,...l,. .,..,., . ...lr.. C lary Somers, Richard Caldarone ASSISTANT EDITORS - joy Lippoldt, Louise Hodgkins, Ruth Lindgren, Priscilla lVaranowski, Carol Parsons,, Barbara Lane, Robert McPhail, Edward Kozeneski. Eva Miller, Ruth Pickard, Priscilla Ross, Anne Barry, Donald Player, Lucille Bailly, Nancy Fitch C 0 N T E N T S Page EDITORIAL .............. . 2 LITERARY ........................ 3 GRADUATION ESSAYS - The Value of Negro Education .... 5 Poland and World Culture .......... 8 The Jewish Contribution to Science .. 11 CLASS DAY PARTS - History .......... 14 Prophecy ...... 20 Gifts to Girls .... 25 Gifts to Boys ......... 29 Will .................... 32 GRADUATION PROGRAM .... 37 CLASS DAY PROGRAM .... 38 HONOR AWARDS ........... , ............ 3 9 WHO'S WHO ............................. 40 PICTURES AND CHARACTERIZATIONS 44 SPORTS REVIEW ....................... 64 SOCIAL REVIEW ........ 68 CLASS CELEBRITIES . . . 71 HIT PARADE OF '47 72 ALUMNI NOTES . .. 75 1

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EBM ' lZElElQ!NBlEBHdl!lQLXl8JMElElZ EIEl3l3lQQ1ZlM Literary FOOTPRINTS T is dusk and over the verdant green of the distant hills the brilliant orange-red of the sun is setting. No sound disturbs the reverent silence, kllltl the untroubled sea betrays no sign of emotion as the tiny wavelets gently heave and retreat incessantly. The scene is one of loneliness, for few people ven- ture to this forsaken beach after the hours of daylight slip away. Across the occasional stretches of the sand the rugged reefs, reiiecting the brilliance of the ocean, cast grotesque shadows. And here in the wet, yielding surface of the coastline can be read the story of the days events since the time when last the rushing waters rose and obliterated all previous telltale marks. Here are footprints! Footprints! How strangely they record the course of humanity. Here a group of children played. Their mud castles struggle for survival against the surging inrush of the increasing waves. Along the shore is told the story of young love. The long. ground-covering steps of the boy, the steps of the girlls smaller feet, hastening to keep up. At this point they stopped and stood arin in arm, gazing in wondrous rapture at the pulsating ocean. Closer to the rocks. the hungry waves lick at the toes of a sand sculpture, left there by some un- known creator. Here a family had a picnicg the little toy imprints of the childrens feet, the nondescript treads of the older folk, and, in the midst of all, the mark of a chair and shoe prints make plain the presence of Grandfather. Away from all else is the evidence of a mens outing. A lopsided baseball diamond. the still-steaming rocks and seaweed of the clambake, and empty bottles bear witness to an afternoon of enjoyment, while the large and massive footprints identify the merrymakers. And now, at first slowly and imper- ceptibly but steadily growing more noticeable, the moon exe1'ts its mysteri- ous power over the water, and the sea rises and covers the gleaming white- ness of sand. The footprints are erased. - Cary Somers 3