Jefferson Medical College School of Nursing - Nosokomos Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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A Ravel Log I WAS a R. N. I amassed a small fortune through an unusual streak of luck in private duty. I was young, romance called and I took to the open road in the spring of 19341. Mademoiselle Stuart, fashion expert of the P. C. 81 F. Co., measured me for a blue and black hiking out- fit and a pink and white cape. The knapsack, contain- ing one tooth brush, a pan of alcohol and a bolt of gauze was emblazoned with Jefferson. I faced the world with bandage scissors as my only weapon. Fully equipped and in a safe and sane mind, I en- tered Miss Melville's office for her blessing. Gaily I set forth. h At City Hall a driver, attracted by my garb, picked me up and set me down before the Chrysler Building in New York. It was quite a surprise to recognize Joe, the elevator boy, but believe me, it wasnlt the same C312 In no time at all I was whisked to the top where a silent, dwarfed New York spread before me. I arrived in Radio City just in time to hear Hope Fleck, world renowned soprano, sing, accompanied by Ernie Coleman. Before leaving New York, I walked up Wall Street but the founder was safely hidden behind her office doors. I did, however, stop at the Museum. Among some familiar relics were: Fran Johnsonis bedroom slippers which had been worn out in the struggle of editing the Nosokomos, an old telephone of 1932 used by Mid for the Alumni dance, and a 1909 model of the 4'Rec radio. After bidding adieu to New York I ambulated up the Hudson to Albany and thence to Boston. I was just in time to attend a tea party given by Joe Ricchuitti and Grace Thomason. It was on one of the Vermont mountains that I dis- covered Rip Van Winkle, alias Peg Yarnall, still sleep- ing. A mighty band of musicians and townspeople greeted me as I crossed the state line into Maine. Mayor Jacoby led the procession. I still think they thought I was someone. Down the St. Lawrence I went - Quebec and Montreal. I stopped here to see Dr. Braceland, chief of a Psychiatric Sanatorium for Wine, Women and Song. On I shufhed to Buffalo, for my gait was quickly becoming spastic. Niagara Falls has been harnessed by Dr. Schmitt for the best equipped Physical Therapy Hospital in the world and it isn't what it used to be. As I swam over the Great Lakes I almost bumped into ,lim Surver fishing for empty beds. Finally Chicago and the World's Fair was reached. But it meant nothing for I hadnit a cent. One day I saw a sign Keesal's. It just couldn't be. Opportunity passes but once and I entered the swinging doors to meet ,lack coming out. He explained they now owned a nation- wide chain of restaurants. My pockets were replenished after a week's work. Because travel had succeeded where diet and razzing had failed, I was able to crawl under the tent ropes and see the Fail. I recognized the Faker as Mid Myers. Then, feeling somewhat as the pioneers did, I faced West. Through Minnesota, South Dakota, Montana and Wyoming I trekked. All along the way there were chil- dren who seemed vaguely familiar--red-haired Helens, black-eyed Maries, and gay-blond Franks. Going through Sixty-three

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Grand Forks I heard a shout. Edging my way through the crowd, I took one look at the speaker and elbowed myself right back. I just couldn't listen to anymore Democratic harangueing. It wasn't until I roamed through the zoo at Yel- lowstone that I began to feel homesick. There was so much to remind one of the old crowd. Chinatown with its tongs was so reminiscent of the cliques back home that I didn't even stop to see Elma Carey, one of the missionaries there. I wish I had the copy of the Cabble-Gabble and the writeup its star re- porter, Engle, gave my cross-country trip. It was almost like being at home to be in Holly- wood. Wheezer played on Our Gang lot. Jackson, the La Pavaloa of the day, was managed by Ziegfeld, the second, good old Hodges himself. Spencer had signed up on Walt Winchell's contract. Hoffman was fast becoming another Zasu Pitts. Hartzler, the Olympic all-star, had just signed a movie contract. Salt Lake City also had many familiar faces. Jeff students had taken up Mormon residences. Larson and Ingraham had taken Dr. Fisher's lecture to heart for I saw many little Evas and buxum Pegs playing in the streets. McCully was in Reno, getting another divorce. By the time I reached Nevada, I was ready to drop, so I bought a three-wheeled bike and called it Oscar. Thanks be to Jefferson training, I was able to relieve my Sixty-four thirst in Death Valley by a hypodermoclysis. Just out. side this trap, Dunkle had an Herb garden and she re- vived me. A rattling old Ford nearly ran me down outside an Indian reservation. I started to tell the driver what I thought but Carr's face peeped out. She was off with her little O. B. bag and two medical assistants. In John's Model Hospital in Butte, Keene was chief anesthetist, Sheila Adams was the directress, but the prize patient of the hospital was Ike Bowmaster, G. l. neurotic. Up to this time I had not met a real cowboy, but no sooner had I crossed the Texan border than a band swooped down. Galloping Tom led the tribe. Henry See all rode on the right. Hair trigger Righter was to the left. Handsome Harry brought up the rear with Ma as hostage. Thank fortune they didn't see me. On to New Orleans and Artman's Blue Lewies. On to Florida and Palm Beach with its Beau Brummels, Kelly Kough, Jap Haight, and Johnson. On to Virginia and new Wim, Wigor and Witality from Bleecher's Stillis, L. B. 81 D. proprietors. On through Kentucky where through the foliage I had a glimpse of Max Smulling riding on a jackass. On-on-on-and finally home. It was good to see the home folks and to be pounded and hugged by the kid sister! Hey! What was that? Another baby! How long have I been asleep?