Kentucky Home School for Girls - Pandaisia Yearbook (Louisville, KY)

Text from Pages 1 - 47 of the 1945 volume:

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Q- 4 I MISS ANNIE STUART ANDERSON 74 Rkikikikikikikikikikikikiw W 'W N v A with mngalig zmh Qxfferiinn, ine hehiwte nur flgezxr Bunk Im E in the QHHBHTIJIIQ nf Misa Qmnie 055- fmhersun E55 EEZQEXEZEZEZEZEZEZEZEZXiSXF?fmifE.S8, 1 l THE KENTUCKY HOME SCHOOL FOR GIRLS ' - t Q93 gllliemnriea uf IE. 25. 5- -HE first day at kindergarten . . . 'fthe cir- cus we gave . . . a style show . . our Play Symphony Qrchestrav and the Christmas play, these memories of kindergarten still live. t f Promotion upstairs, our Primary Paper, the Indian play, HlVIy Posey Bed that as given in the spring on the side porch, and laving our own table at the Bazaar, are still vi ,id in our minds. The Art Exhibit, helping withlthe Horse Shows at Bashford Manor, singing.. French songs, taking a trip to the fish hatchery, reciting poems fparticularly ,,,t Lfc0otober's Bright Blue Weather j inxchapel before the Mbig girls , then-we were 'fbig girlsi' ourselves, are some of the things that remain in one's memory from the Lower School. Study Hall, hockey, Christmas Carol books, .exams,-eumemoriairfg more ible verses, May Pole Dance, p,,, and being a .pf ower girl at Com- mencement were some ofythe changes from the Lower,'School that ihlpressed us. As' Sopho- mores, we were in chgge of the Dog Show, and gave a Latinplay on May Day. Latin valen- tines, music appreciation tests each year, Chem Lab, our Junior play, uPeter Pan , and the French program we had in chapel, marked the year of '434'44.' ' ' 1 ' And now this year we've' bid farewell to hockey dinners, Bazaar, exams, May Day, and other annual occasions, and are .ending the high school chapter of our lives with' Come mencement at K.H.S. uTo know, to esteem, to love-and then, to part. L I A f A Mary H illeary Bryan,t, 45. r t Qlrrnrmenrement 'ggmn ALMA MATER' , ' I Through happy, careless years Thou hast been our gfuideg K D Patient and steadfast, thou P Hast walked by our side. Thy precepts, firm and free, We'll keep in loyalty, , Oh, stay thou our faithful friend, Till our life shall end. To the new day we turn, Confident that thou Wilt lead our footsteps right, Nor failure allow. Keep thou our dreams on high,- Ever to thee we cry: Oh, hear our unchanging song, Alma Mater, strong! Three .Qllasz QJBHEII ani! Special Zgeqnest E, the Senior Class of 194-5, being of sound mind and body, do leave, will and bequeath to the class of '46 our affectionate sisterhood, kindred love for one another, and undissoluble unity. To the Sophomores we leave our favorite motto: '4One for one and all for none. To the Freshmen we 'leave this slogan which has contributed greatly to our success, c'What's mine is mine and what's yours is mine toof' I, Mary Stuart Anderson, leave my knitting to anyone who would like a little diversion in class. I, Nancy Adair Armstrong, being of no mind whatsoever, -do hereby leave my famous trench coat to someone who evidently needed it more than I did. I leave my graduation flowers to Mary Haggin Moss. I, Mary Jane Bachman, do will my athletic triumphs and dexterity in hockey to Joyce Victor and long may she wave Cher hockey stick.J I, Mary I-Iilleary Bryant, do hearby leave, will and bequeath my hockey stick to Hortense Applegate in hopes that it may last another season by the aid of an additional layer of tape. I, Charlotte Bullitt, being on the brink of insanity, do hereby will and bequeath all the pictures and news of Van Johnson that I possess to Florence Hendricks. I, Anne bush, heahby will and bequeath mah southern accent to Virginia Franz so that with ambition and mah drawl she may in time be- come an ahdent Rebel. I, Harriet Semple Field, do leave, will and bequeath my unsurpassing love for reading to Tammy Miller, with the hope that it may give her -many hours of pleasure. I, Ann Franke, do hereby leave, will, and bequeath my henna rinse to Hildegarde O'Bannon that there may always be a grad- uating red-head. QI, Mary Owsley Grant, leave my tasty French novels to Miss Weakley. I, Ardell Hoke, do hereby leave, will, and bequeath my great love of the technicalities and theories of arithmetical, algebraic and geometri- cal enigmas to my dear friend and colleague, Miss Weakley. I, Ruth Mary Jordan, do hereby leave, will and bequeath my grandmother to be used as an excuse for any girl who needs one. It is with the greatest pleasure and gener- osity that I, Caroline Kennedy, do hereby leave my slender, graceful stature and trim figure to any one stupid enough to accept it. I, Nancy Mall, do hereby leave, will, and bequeath my freckles to Caroline Redmon so that she may have the only two-toned freckles in captivity. I, Joan Miller, do hereby fwith, a little reluctancel leave my secret formula for high- flying eyebrows which I have guarded jealously for these many years, to Donna Lee Cumstock. Formula . . . Plain everyday soap and water with an excess of patience and elbow grease. I, Priscilla Ione Tomlinson, do hereby leave, will and bequeath to Dot Jones my lithe, cur- vacious and graceful form, and to Mrs. Reed, all the Latin there ever was. I, Betty Clayton Vlfashburn, do hereby leave, will, and bequeath to Frances Durham, my Latin translations with the fond hope that she will profit from them. I, Patricia Wellons, being of sound mind, do hereby leave, will, and bequeath my spotless attendance record to Bettie Bryant, because I think she needs a chance. Glass Elgrnpherg A TEN YEARS FROM NOW WE SEE! GAY little French Cafe has become the rendezvous of utout le monde , where one delights in sparkling wine, soft candle- light, and an atmosphere of twarm welcome, conveyed by the hostess, Stuey Anderson-the toast of Paris, the preponderance of spirits who haunt the cafe being' lonesome veterans of the war. ' Four eNancy Armstrong-Not withstanding the violation of the contract of her heavy insurance policy, Nancy Armstrong may be observed by alarmed housewives and far-sighted crossroads loiterers, swing in the breeze, feet strapped to the wingtips of a plane, taking candid camera shots of choice bird's eye views of our beauti- ful American countryside. Miss Armstrong is thrilled with her work but complains that she suffers excruciating pain until the blood runs out of her head, which process lasts almost a half hour. It must get stuck somewhere, she comments. ' The latest news bulletin from K.H.S. has revealed the remarkable statement that, 'cMiss Mary ,lane Bachman has at last reached her destination clfieykjavik, Icelandfi' The point of this long and tedious journey of nine years is to demonstrate her new uwinter suntan make-up to the pale natives of the Arctic region. Mary Hilleary Bryant has hung out her shingle on Bardstown road, having replaced the familiar name of Trudie-Ann, and is conduct- ing a flourishing business. Amidst perturbed customers fretting over their dropped stitches and tangled yarn, Miss Bryant, serenely ob- livious, succeeds in giving successful directions for articles such as argyle socks. Charlotte Bullitt may be found dispensing bouttoniers to starving young artists at her little flower shop, HYe Scent of Ye Tuberose in the French Quarters in old New Orleans. Anne Bush has gained her lifelong desire, that of being recognized as the world's fore- most horticulturalist. Miss Bush's motto, You can't beat a Bush bush, may be seen in the leading florists' shops around the globe. She has developed the bush to such a degree that these plants will grow into any desired shape, form or color. Harriet Field will go down in history as the most rabid Democrat in the annals of these our United States fundividedl. She has been amending the constitution and has been awarded the high office of 4'Keeper and Currier of the Democratic Donkey. P Ann Franke has asserted the equalization of the female sex to that of the opposite sex by substantiating the country's finances. She has used as her references to obtain this hon- ored position fas founder of MFranke's Fi- nancesnj, her past experience at K.H.S.- miraculously extracting dues as Treasurer of the Senior Class of '45, Mary Owsley Grant, having browbeaten the population of Europe into accepting her version of the Civil Vlfar, has returned to her native land and is now fretting her poor head over the organization of a movement for transporting certain individuals back to the sunny shores of Africa. Ardell Hoke has at last realized her greatest ambition-that of, after diving from the New York pier, swimming the Atlantic Ocean to Casablanca. She was received there with great honor, and acclaimed the most distinguished visitor to that prominent spot since Humphrey Bogart. A warm welcome awaits all of us on the elm shadedportico of Ruth Mary Jordan's Georgian mansion where we may sip a julep andfascinatedly watch the mistress of all this Southern elegance knit those amazing cuddley cashmere sweaters, without which she insists none of her thoroughbreds leave the stables at anytime. fPink is for fillies and blue for stallionsj ' Nancie Elizabeth Mall is making millions as a result of her patented flying-contraption, The MalllNon-Fallv for the safety -of all Peter Pans. Q A Caroline Kennedy is holding u0pen Tunneln on Sunday afternoon in the year of our Lord 1955, to celebrate the completion of her private tunnel on which she has blasted for five years, straight from the Puritan, Room 305-B, to 416 Mitchell St., Marshall, Missouri. Joan Miller, whose current best seller, 'GA Diplomat's Dream or a'Look What Katie Gibbs Did For Me has recently been introduced by the fashion editor of Vogue for the purpose of creating for her a chic 'cwriting costume, which I might add Miss Miller has graciously con- sented to wear when she wrestles with her next brain child. Priscilla Tomlinson is serving a term dup the riveri' for shooting the Navy Goat in a fit of temper at the last Army-Navy game fscore: Navy 61, Army 605. After she tidies up her cell each morning she holds advanced Algebra classes for the inmates. This necessitates a nerve-wracking Correspondence Course with Miss Weakley. Miss Tomlinson, now known as 2984406, comments in a letter, c'This is so like old days at K.H.S.,' Our former school-mate, Betty Washburn, is at present using her silvery voice to its best advantage. Each morning she calls the doctors to work at the hospital. She has also patented a successful formula for les petits chiens. aptly named 'cPurple Pills for Peppy Puppiesf, Patricia Wellons, now known as uMlle. Barboure. is instructing the Caucasian peasants in the rudiments of the French language. Hav- ing finally completed her course under Madame Vallet, Mlle. Barboure is using as a reference Le Chardenal Ellie ditg MII faut que vous ne soyez en retard a la classe francaiseg mais mieux en retard que jamaisln Five ix 4 Igresihent Senior flllass J 1 , . MARY HILLEARY BRYANT 'True as a needle to the pole, Or as the dial. to the sun. X -Booth MARY STUART KANDERSON NANCY ADAIR ARMsTRoNGff,,A Vice President Editor of the Pandasia' aShe has the fascinating tyrrany H, , , This above 'allz to thine of youth, and the astonishing cour- ownself be true. age of innocence. 0 Wide ' -Shakespeare - . z . 1 ' 1.9 '. F v3f g' MARY JANE BACHMAN CHARLOTTE SHERRARD BULLITT There is a garden in her face '4He prayeth best who loveth best Where roses and white lilies blow. All things both great and small. --Richard Allison --S. T. Coleridge ANNE HUTCHINGS BUSH HARRIET SEMPLE FIELD . . . th' unconquerable will 'cl am the master of my fate, And courage never to submit or yield. I' am the captain of my soul. Q -J. Milton --W. E. Henley 'Seven GG on ANN DAVIDSON FRANKE Treasurer Captain of the Hockey Team . I pray thee, then, f'Write me as one that loved his fellowmenf' Eight -Leigh Hunt ARDELLE HOKE R MARY OWSLEY GRANT Chairman of Bazaar But some of us are looking at the stars. RUTH MARY JORDAN 0. Wilde A dancing Shape, an Image gay. Her very frowns are fairer far, -Wordsworth Than smiles of other maidens are. S. T. Coleridge VIRGINIA CAROLINE KENNEDY uCalm and unruffled as a summer sea, when not a breath of Wind flies o'er its surface. -Addison JOAN MILLER NANCIE ELIZABETH MALL 4'Hail to thee, blithe spiritll' -P. B. Shelley PRISCILLA TOMLINSON I wish to tune my quivering lyre '4Moderation is the silken' string running To deeds of fame and notes of fire. through the pearl chain of all virtues. ' --Lord Byron . -Bishop Hall :Ville CTL 21557322 BETTY CLAYTQN WASHBURN PATRICIA BARBOUR.WELLONS 1 tread gn air and Sink not, 6'Round her she made an atmosphere -Byron of lifef, -A ,ZXIix BY JOAN MILLER In among the pages of our mem'ry book, One remembrance will be cherished over all. Alix, always light of heart, you loved those who With you sought the zest and fun in living. i This we lost and Culver gainedg so keen our loss Now we know. Those of us who held you in our hearts Do not soon forget your leaping love for life T Which lived itself and made us live. fU ' f 17 The Wish-Arnold. --Byron FUTURE OCCUPATION PET PEEVE FAVORITE EXPRESSION REMIND US OF NAME OI' Success Y'S QD lil .bd Cd QD B CI' Driv Bus Miss P- cd 3 -M M cd D-a . 4.3 ID cd H I-1 I3 How si-mp-ly wonderf Wind r-1 S-4 -v-1 .S 3 !11 Ili CU E U? Anderson ..... C QI? .E'.E QE-' F'-I cF'4 D - E Q-4 CI o!'l C -QE 32 fe GJ E: 7 'GJ 4.-I 4-3 Ol-l GJ n-up-1 ii Z5 5 E: gxxr-1 cle? 3 Sl 3.5: Q-ff. 11-1 FH ll-1 QD. E CU O Ur-1 F-4 QD E 41 .E-E EF? P1 E3 Q E Os: S ID E S-1 41 all WOIII Louisville's first mayo mps I' cd U14 Q I3 FD Q-4 o 'cs GJ 'cs Q QF! E Q2 FH no Q lv-1 0 CQ GJ .Q IL-3 S 8 H-:cs HZ Un una.: FS.. :E O CU F23 O '-5 U .Q -H-'AZ' Wha ll ic Photogen SS i cg.- -55 CUM CQCQ Q. P- Nursery Teacher ahies CQ as E Q O called en't You hav 4-a YD cd ap ith W 3.11 II1 -Wo Bullitt ...... dl P1 5,4 . 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Nancy Armstrong, ,45. Elpatterna 00lxllXC out of my window in a New York hotel the dramatic skyline makes a never to be forgotten pattern. One similar to the pattern formed the world over by buildings where man congregates in masses. Essentially the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, yet it changes with the uncertainties of nature. Yesterday the still gray tone of the skyline harmonized' and seemed to blend into theover- cast sky. There seemed to be no termination, as though af gauze drop had been lowered over the scene by a master producer. There was no feeling of depth found when colossal buildings cast shadows over those dwarfed by their height, only the strangely irregular skyline, as though a child had cut the pattern out of gray craft paper. The scene was cold and monotonous, unfriendly and impersonal. I was oppressed by the stifling confines of these misty buildings. All this was yesterday. Today the scene has changed. The skyline remains practically the same, but today the orange chimney pots show against a blue sky. The shining concrete skyscrapers are recessed, floor after floor, into towering pyramids. The bronze dome of one building glittered in the sunshine. The open eminarets of a church spire make lacy designs against the background. What Twelve seemed plain and irregular in the drab sky of yesterday revealed fantastically ornamental out- lines in the brilliant light of the day. At night the scene becomes a carbon copy of the pattern. The feeling of gloom-is gone, the multi-colored neon signs form a kaleido- scope of color, spreading a warm, ruddy glow along the streets. The lights in the hotels create designs that play with one's imagination and the gaily lighted penthouses seem to form halos for the buildings. In the distance where the lumbering buses have faded into the black- ness of night the office lights appear to be stars bordering on the horizon whose points have been chipped off. A line of sparkling lights outline the curve of the river bridge like a strap of rhinestones curving over the shoulder of a beautiful woman. W'hen this same scene is in the grip of winter, blanketed in snow, the buildings form a design similar to the crenelated patterns on the ancient fortress-palaces of Assyrian noble- men. The atmosphere which has been cleaned by the falling snow creates a blue sky as radiant as a priceless sapphire., Thus, while the pattern remains the same, the effect is constantly varied by nature. Anne Bush, '45. W ' Cgarhen-stile Cbussipz K R. lVIacGREGOR struggled for the nine- tieth afternoon to get some results from his victory garden, but as he pushed his hat back from his brow he sighed wearily and surveyed the products of his labor without en- thusiasm. The carrots had all gone to feathery tops, tht long dry spell had severely dwarfed his tomatoes, the beetles had eaten the leaves of the beans into fantastic patterns, and the row of weather-beaten corn was only about two feet high when it should have been four or five by now. The sun was mercilessly hot and the ground was baked into a hard crust that defied his efforts to break it up into the fine loamy soil pictured in the fascinating seed catalogues. Mr. MacGregor gazed speculatively for a time at the fine scarecrow he had erected with so much trouble at the far corner of the garden plot. It seemed for a moment that the painted face that gazed back at him under his dis-- carded felt hat grinned. But no, thought Mr. MacGregor, that isn't possible. His gaze wan- dered down the figure which stood so erect on the stout pole he had provided for i-t. Mr. MacGregor saw his own last summer's suit, the coat bulging rather importantly about the fat middle and the trousers dangling down into the high grass and trembling a bit in a vagrant zephry, as if their present wearer was on the verge of executing a fancy shuffle. MI declare, said Mr. MacGregor aloud, uyou look just like that pompous fellow, the banker, who is chairman of the victory garden committee, and I expect you know as much about gardening as he does. Whereupon Mr. MacGregor gathered up his tools and disap- peared into the house. - After. he had gone, the scarecrow looked about cautiously and with a sigh and relaxed his rigid position. A brown rabbit emerged from the hedge, followed by a little chipmunk, who began to nibble on the yellowing lettuce leaves. c'What do you suppose he meant by saying I look like the fellow in charge of the garden committee? asked the scarecrow musingly. uIt's something people never seem to figure out, said the rabbit, twitching his ear reflec- tively. 4'They expect a fat banker to be an ex- pert gardenerf, a'Do you think I look like a fat banker then? asked the scarecrow hopefully. c'No more so than Mr. MacGregor looks like a farmer, replied the rabbit. At this point the chipmunk joins in the conversation squeakingly. HBut you're only a scarecrow, not a banker said he, wrinkling up his nose. Just then, Mr. MacGregor came out from the house. A hedgehog, who had joined the group, twined hnmself into a ball, and rolled away behind a cornstalk. The brown .rabbit scurried to safety under the hedge, while the scarecrow resumed his stiff position. Mr. MacGregor came .down the path and stopped at the edge of the garden. He eyed the scarecrow suspiciously, buttthe painted face was unmoving. , alt all goes to show, said he, as if con- tinuing his conversation with the scarecrow. 'CA man shouldnit usually try to be what he isn't. That banker is no gardener, I am no gardener, but this is a national emergency and we all must attempt to do a good many things we never did before. . , Harriet Field, ,-45. C9212 in at glfiatinn Qpuint I ..- , nr , I C-ikfter igntfre Celine This day and age welre living in Is full of mystery. My weary brain is giving in, What can the answer be? Four ration books so far we've had For meat and shoes and gas, And all our hearts are dreary and sad When an 'cEthyl,' tank they pass. Two red points for meat per day, That is whatis allowed, For a bit of steak for which you'll pay If you can beat the crowd. Our modern natives have discovered They joy of barefoot play, For who would keep his feet covered And throw a stamp away? X ' Q Yet with all the complaints we've made, A - We really are grateful toog For beside the prices other have paid, Ours are-truely too few. N ancie Mall, ,45. Thirteen a A mite Qlftiglfgt glfantas-tin: s T WAS the first thing I noticed as I entered the long hall. I told the others to walki on without me, and stood watching'-it till my knees grew weak from standing and then I sat down on the edge of a gilt chair, never taking my eyes from it. ,I was utterly fascinated. It hung from the high ceiling and swayed gently as though some' ghostly breeze were whispering to it. Someone had certainly been ingenious to have created such a masterpiece. I And a masterpiece it was, for though it had been made in much the same fashion as other chandeliers of that time, its lights were not, in the conventional rows around the tiers, but were in the thousand glittering prisms that tinkled as it swayed from side to side. And fwonder of wondersj the prisms were dark green! Green as a sea of pine trees. I thought it magnificent. The light fantastic, I smiled at my weak pun. But suddenly, suddenly, I felt I had to leave, leave that house, leave the alight fantastici' forever. It was hideous, I hated it! As I opened the door,'the wind gushed past me. I caught my breath and watched the great thing shudder and clatter to the floor in a great wave of splintering glass. I turned and fled down the dark road-into the night-into the sea, the dark green sea. Nancy Armstrong, ,45. Thoughts NE IS as his thoughts are. They shine through to the outside world, and are the basis of other's judgment of us. Your thoughts are yours to do with as you see fit, to lock deep in yourself or to spread to the world. They are your world, so you must keep them as you would want the world to be. They are your whole life. As they are good The T SEEMS that every year, from time im- memorial, the Kentucky Home School has given its annual charity bazaar, and 19414, though a war year was no exception. As a matter of fact the war did interfere a bit, because of the scarcity of materials for the Household and Fancy Work table, and, of course, there was a scarcity of ingredients for the cakes and cookies. But, working hard, we scoured the town for material for aprons, and especially for stuffed animals. Instead of hav- ing a Doll table this year, we converted it into an Animal table, of which Betty Washburn was Chairman. Mrs. Bryant lent the patterns and showed the girls how to assemble the horses and elephants, then the girls took them home, cut them out, sewed them up, and, those who were not handy with the needle stuffed them tightly with wa-ds of cotton. There seemed to be a thousand aprons along the wall behind the Household and Fancy Work table. Hilly and Anne Bush were the Chair- men. There were precious hand-made booties and caps, and the stores were quite generous in donating articles. The Cake and Candy tables were moved down to the Kindergarten room, which gave us Fourteen and clean, so you will be, but if they are weak, they will weaken you. So this, your most precious possession, must be built firm and with care, and must be kept with sincerity. Thus your life and the lives of all with whom you come in contact will be more useful and more beautiful. Ann F ranke, '45. nf QEIZZIEIL' far more space. They were quite covered with delicacies and sweets and very prettily deco- rated. Ruth Mary had made two cardboard canes, and wrapped them in pink and white, tying bows around them to make them look like two very delicious candy canes. There were two brand new tables this year. One was the Christmas Wrappings table, 'of which Charlotte Bullitt was Chairman. Char- lotte rallied all the artistic students about her and they set to work decorating plain tissue paper with various designs. The table was a great success. The other new table was one of second hand books, with Caroline Kennedy as Chairman. For the refreshments, we served tea this year instead of luncheon. Ann Franke was put in charge, and she and her alittle helpers deco- rated the library beautifully with evergreens and silver candlesticks. The tea was served gracefully, and there was enough food, but not a great deal left over. Ann managed it very well. .. The money counted after the bazaar totaled over 35600. It was quite a success, everything went off well, and the patrons said it was de- lightful. Mary Owsley Grant, '45, Front Row-Mary Stuart Anderson, Doris Frick, Bettie Bryant, Dorothy Lewis, Annabelle Morier, Barbara Clark, Peggy Read, Caroline Bickel, Laura Bullitt, Mary Jane Southwick. - Back Row-Emily Nichols, Anne Bush, Joan Miller, Mary Barton Thompson, Mary Hilleary Bryant, Miss Jane Allen, coach, Ann Franke, Patricia Wellons, Jeanine Schlegel, Joyce Franz, Priscilla Smith. 'fNot Presentl-Vida Beard. Ignckeg ITH the arrival of crisp autumn weather one may find the K.H.S. hockey team, outfitted in its traditional uniform of black shorts and sweaters, engaged in a season of competitive sport. Marked improvement could be noticed as the '44 season came to a close, and since credit should be given where credit is due, laurels to our Captain Ann Davidson Franke, the results of whose love of clean sportsmanship and fighting spirit could be seen, and the successful, patient coaching of Miss Jane Mengel Allen, who, although her first year with the squad, won the praises of all with this season's play. There was fine cooperation from the team and moral support from the enthusiastic student- body which followed every game. The scores of the games are no indication of the goodfellow- ship, clean sportsmanship and improvement the team gained from the work. The competition was keen between the intra- mural teams, and the speculationilwas great as to a Gold or Black victory for the possession of the coveted cup. Hockey, forming one of the ties that keep the alumnae forever interested in the school, brought old grads back for a post- season game. After each game the team was feted by a marvelous hockey dinner. With this excellent start in 1944 we hope ,to salute a victorious team in '45. V Anne Bush, '45, lil Fifteen Ensign There is a pattern in all the things of life, ' There is a certain form for peace as well as strife. The rain and frost and sunshine Make patterns on the glass. And every part of nature Has its individual class. The trees form leafy patterns Against a cloudless sky, And the moon follows a definite course In its journey up on high. The birds and all the animals, figear 'fguuk T WAS Friday afternoon, A,D. fAfter Dis- missalj, and even I was wondering what had possessed me to call a meeting at a time when we're all straining at the leash to get out and get started fget out of school and get started on the weekendj. I vaguely recalled thinking that that afternoon would be the per- fect time to get a lot of year book odds and ends straightened out. I suppose Iill never learn. The Five paled a little when I suggested my plan to them at lunch but they smiled nobly, and heaving heartbreaking sighs, said they'd be glad to stay. We sneaked up the forbidden front steps to the English room, and after making our- selves as comfortable as possible, Stuey in a typical Stuey position, we felt ready for a cheerful afternoon of work and chatter. This last, I might add, was a snare and a delusion. Well, I called the meeting to order, which was a mistake, for Puff said, c'I'll take vanilla, and that upset things from the start. We had discussed how over worked and mistreated we were for fully five minutes, when Ruth Mary said she thought she'd go down stairs and see if Mrs. Vaughn had any milk in the ice box. Stuey looked up from the sock she was knitting long enough to say she'd like some peanut- butter cookies if there were any left. I told Ruth Mary to get me some too. HWhat harm in that? thought Ig I found out later. We were all deep in thought when there came a knock on the door-wllelephone for Mary Owsleyf' Mrs. Kelly called. Owsley looked wholeheart- edly thankful for the chance to leave the room, if only for a few minutes. Going out, she passed Ruth Mary returning to the fold with the milk and cookies. A look of mutual suffer- ing passed between them, but I consoled myself with the thought that this work had to be done, even if everyone started to think of me as a feminine Simon Legree. Well, I bellowed at Harriet, who is one of the sweetest persons on earth, and certainly Sixteen The creatures of any clime, Still are born and live and die, As they have since the dawn of time. But .who has drawn these patterns, Whose is the master hand That controls the living destinies O'er many a distant land? It is He who first did make the earth And all that on it dwell, His is the hand that patiently guides usg May our praise ever heavenward swell! Nancie Mall, '45. meeting not the type to be bellowed at, Nwell, what have you decided to leave to the school? Harriet said she wasn't quite sure, and after I'd gone through my song and dance about how we ought to do things, not just think about them, she asked me what I planned to leave the school. I looked out the window and commented that it looked like rain. Harriet, out of the kindness of her heart, let the matter drop. Puff looked a little thin, I thought, so I tossed her a cookie. The poor dear dodged instinctively and it took us a good thirty minutes to get the peanut butter out of her hair. Owsley came back and wanted to know what we'd accomplished. I ignored that as best I could, and asked Ruth Mary in my iciest voice if she'd mind not drawing faces without noses on the blackboard. Ruth Mary, with the expression of one condemned to death, sat down. Harriet, who had decided to open the window, nearly fell out, trying to see what was causing the commo- tion across the street. Stuey, showing great presence of mind, stuck her knitting needle through Harriet's skirt and hung on for dear life, Harriet's dear life. The commotion turned out to be the Salvation Army. One of the men, who had spied us, called up and wanted to know if we'd like to contribute something. We closed the window hard! Owsley, in roaming about the room, had discovered a box of Christmas cakes wedged between the radiator and the wall. This being the second of March, we were all a little out of the Yuletide Spirit, but decided to give the cakes a whirl anyway. Other than being utterly tasteless and as dry as plaster dust, they were very good. Stuey, who had been sleeping quite peacefully for several minutes, woke up and wanted to know if we weie through. Everyone brightened visibly. I said I thought we'd done enough for one afternoon, though I knew in my heart that a day of reckoning would come and find the class of 'll-5 with nothing to leave the school. So we just left the school. Nancy Armstrong, '45. fcigzifgp K2 -'AZ ' A GD ' CD ,N 2522-E26 C5 M553 ' 4 3. fi 5 E MQ 7 U 'v .ff R -Z i.'v'X'vLtu-rr L,-i,,,,AL,4'- ,L o 4. 51 Rf 521 5 9 Zia-QXUYQISXX ' . U egdw I ,ZLQ 4 K X ' .V 'fo Srrolfxxg 3' , L31 . gbwvxiw ' A ,uni qw ,N-W xpq-Jw' Ez. . Q Yi' X Qof? ? 3j' L Q ' r Qr, M20 , +45 F ALGEQQA 4 Zig- 'fM, QQAYY C' EL Q - ef' Qf 'Qxb 5' ev0'WE'mY A 6 .A ,WW Q'o,.,9.f' 4.TTqgKt Nmtlgkex LATIN F x,xx'Y'UN 0 Qi-X,X.xtg't ' Caffe'-Nt 903 - Ska mt , QM Qiq ox Y ussufo?-K Qi-V -fii. , -' ? .QQ Mi eapogls ENB!-:sn X :JI QQ' oiivks EKAMs--- if 0 QAX 6 661 X 1 Q E H' wsxqfsx . fix fog Q oxxzl R UTWN N ik ' , K ay T ilzogl, 'WN I 6. S kk wg an QQTAQV5 QRS q . , S Q UIQ' vwgd- . SA Hgh O 2 V . THE E ? HISTEQ ,Q Ark, LINE Us x . J ' N? 34,-sk'-H. A . , . XFN fx 'SIM if-Ka, X 6- whfi vwn 9 9, ow,Y5Yb-QW- MJ I . Gy, .fx ' ARY .1-,m,E N 1 X J Gwtgioig, ' pf aes Tiff, 61 CP X J' Cfjx X' lv Q Ogg' X 5 T ' N:-Q? 1 bu? .4534 A ' 8 K-'XQV . 4, ,ca-P .Rf E W? x V3 4k Qf W Nqamvf- Q S K5 gr, ' L, '55 Q -'4'fwi'eZ?? 1 IX ZXEKX' K-.1 ' kdfikfxfgi X' 5 Q , , XQQQQEXXMF ES 1-VNS A250 h' F-AM IL, A I X Q0 ' Z - A - f Qqifffxf E cj? F .V Je 4 git, Z' , , it J , Wx-xrb . UXQ,-jlzrsvvk io V nts .0 '1nM,,N5'P 5b- N NW- 6 3 ' Rv boo . 0 bihf-O LI Nlq, 'hmfx W X WZ, Qgvilv ' igniting mt FTER sixteen years of deep research, l think myself well qualified to explain the difficult undertaking of putting on a shoe. The pair of shoes Qthere are always two shoes, one for each footl is placed on the floor, preferably next to your feet. Since there are several typs of shoes, and the type of shoe great- ly determines the method to be used, and since l canit possibly write on all of them, I have chosen the simple, everyday laced oxfords with which to demonstrate my ideas. These are not new shoes, because it takes an expert hand, which I am not, to insert the foot into the prob- ably small footwear. It is customary to wear socks with the shoe nowadays, therefore the socks are pulled tight around the ankles and smoothed down on the feet so they will not present any interference to the action. . Most people who wear shoes almost invari- ably put on either the right or left shoe first. In my demonstration I shall do as the sales- men do and begin the struggle with the right foot. This, however, does not greatly alter the situation. , The shoe laces are first loosened and re- moved from one or two eyelets to facilitate the passage of the foot. This action, more or less, frees the tongue of the apparel which is yanked up and forward to give still more room. At the same time, the sides of the shoe are grasped and violently pulled outward for the same pur- pose. er Shun t Now the foot is poised above the shoe with the toes pointing downward directly fthis is importantl above the aperture. Gathering all remaining strength, the foot is plunged down and forward into the opening. Most likely the heel will strike the rear part of the shoe and momentarily stop, but more force at the precise time will free the heel and allow it to enter the shoe, so don't fret about this trivial detail. Having won the hardest part of the battle, the wearer is now entitled to a short rest period. Then the laces are passed through the eyelets in the prescribed manner until the last one is pierced, after which there is seen approximately three inches of dangling strings. These are held firmly in the right and left hands, respec- tively, and jerked up in order to take up any slack in the lace and also tighten the shoe. It is in this operation that most shoe laces break under the terrific strain. I Holding the ends of the strings, keeping them very taut, the wearer then crosses and ties them in a simple bow knot. In reviewing and studying the many opera- tions required by the putting on of a shoe, I am sure you will fully appreciate the ability- and skill needed to complete this every-morning feat. It is well to remember that in an average lifetime the normal citizen puts his shoes on 25,000 times. Ruth Mary Jordan, ,45. mutha A thin line of liquid blue velvet Flows from the shining strip of silver That is my pen. The many colored thoughts Floating on the surface of my brain Crystallize. I am aware that in years to come Nothing will remain Of me, my life, But these brittle words Upon a yellow page. Nancy Armstrong, '45. Nineteen ,,,.. Qs iilinafie Where was . ' KNAVE there was, and not,,sof.long ago, I remember well., An elfin little boy. in knee breeches, ah, he was a devil. Hetwas always in and out the house, it seemedto him a place only for eating and sleeping. I began to know whether or not he was home by the elon- gated fingermarks on the newel post which he would put there as he swung up to. his room. ' I remember the day that these prints were bloody, it was the day. he had his first fight. I was startled and lost my temper, and scolded him quite thoroughly. He looked up with lumin- ous black eyes and said, ifcldut beauty, I won and he was bigger'n me. What could.I say? Ah! he was a devil. After that healways called me beauty, thoughlas anyone can -see, I'm- not beautiful. I suppose he'd read it somewhere, I liked the way he said it, respectful. and affec- tionate. .I And I remember the time he wore-his first tuxedo he was neither respectful nor affection- ate then, because I told him he looked 'clovelyf' It seemed Hlovelyi' was hardly the word to apply to a man of fifteen, in his first tuxedo. The next day I found that lovely was the word one should use when speaking of Louise. -I was also informed that Louise had worn a blue dress that made her look very feminine. I was surprised to find him thinking this way about a little girl. Not long after this I noticed that he was thinking this way about lots of little girls, ah, he was a devil! When he was sixteen he came to me and said, I want to kiss Louise. Oh, that moment, I wished so much to kiss him as I had when he was very young. That moment he was so open, so frank and a little wistful. We had a 'cheart to heart ' talk the next afternoon. V 'cAuntie,'7 'long' pause, ado you think I'm 'too young tofstartlooking for a wife? ' I suggested that we have a bit of tea before we- pursued this any farther. I UNO, lambf'-he seemed really serious. u,Iim, I said, it's the very sweetest thing to find a girl that you want' for your wife, a girl you respect and love. ' 'cWell, Auntie, when I told you that I Wanted to kiss Louise, I kind of had it in mind that she would let me, 'causefl know she likes me best, but do you.know what she said? She saidthat she was too young to kiss boys, but 'that she was glad I wanted to kiss her 'cause she liked me. Auntie, I want to marry Louise someday, shefs the kind of person I would want for a wife. ' - - I could tell he wanted reassurance, so I told him to have her over for tea soon. Soon it was. Oh, what a dream of a little girl. I adored...her at once. Those afternoon tea times came itogether quite frequently and they. became a time of reading aloud and chat- ting merrily. ' 1 He, went ,off to college and we missed him, Louise and I. During his Senior year, I received a .-wee box and.,-a letter from him, which I opened. The letter ,said that I would find a ring inside the box and that he was too far away to ask Louise to marry him, and would I uplease, Auntie, ask her! I knew .he was doing this so that I would feel a part of the affair. I told Louise about it and we cried a little, of JOY' He will be back soon from the war 'and they will be married. I know that all during the ceremony I shall be thinking, A Knave There Was. , ' - Mary Stuart Anderson, '45. Snap Shuts I N THE open album there is a picture of a small boy standing stiff and resplendent in his first sailor suit. His eyes, crinkled against the sun, laugh with his laughing mouth. The wind ruffles his shining hair. I Beside it is another picture. Here too, a boy stands stiff and proud in a sailor's suit. But it is no longer a small boy. His height is carried proudly as he stands there on a ship, uposition unknown. There is a smile on the lips but there is a sadness in his eyes. The breeze which Twenty raises the blond hair is a sea breeze now. The sun, which shines into his quinted eyes, shines on a world at war, on a sea filled with danger and death. ' Farther on, there is another picture of an- other small boy. It is like the first, painfully like it. And each night I pray that there will be no fourth picture of a sailor, clad ininavy and white, no other .war to take far away from us, our beloved little boys in sailor suits. iAnn F ranke, '45. JUNIOR CLASS Front Row-Doris Frick, Betty Lou Anderson, Bruce Nutting, Virginia Franz, Annabelle Morier. Second Row-Barbara Clark, Priscilla Smith, Bettie Morgan, Joan White, Ann Jennin'gs, Donna Walker. Third Row-Emily Nichols, Ella Tatum Miller, Jean Atherton, Billie Jane Freeman, Jeanine Schlegel. V fNot Presentj-Helen Gibson, Mary King Bridgers, Barbara Warren. The .Junior Class of '45 Is the topic of my poem. For all their individual charms Posterity shouldknow them. Neen Schlegel, acting president, Is first whose name I call. Her rosy cheeks and happy laugh Have made her friend to all. Priscilla Smith and Barbara Clark And Bettie. Morgan next. ' They're lots of fun, and with the world, Are n ever really vexed. I For beauty, and brains in Chemistry Here's Emily, An-n, Bullitt and c'Frick.,' It's quite a combination, And sure to do the trick. '6Nut and ,lean and Billie, Are the life of every class. Helen is our nightingale And quite a brilliant lass. Iuniura ,nf '45 . Betty Lou and Bunny Are popular and petite. Our beautiful Ann Jennings Is dark and very sweet. Tammy Miller is very nice, And in Chemistry really uratesf' Donna and Barbara Warren Both have the best of traits. Mary King has pretty red hair, And is always full of fun. Smart looking Ginger Franz g Attracts most every mother's son. The Junior' class of '45 I've presented here Hen masse. And so, dear reader, now you see Why we're called 'uquite a class. P.S. I haven't forgotten myself, But I thought I wouldn't bother. Forwhen you've finished, you may So kindly toward the author. not feel Joan White, '46. I Twenty-one St. QHauI's-'ginglanh 194D The spires of the Cathedral shimmer and rise Into the blue of the Autumn skies. Below are the sand bags, row on row, Piled in the hope that even though .A The tempo of the guns increasing, The roar of the planes at night unceasing, The Cathedral, gray, serene, aloof, Will be unharmed,-a living proof, That out of the black nightmare of war Will stand the cause we're fighting for. Tammy Miller, 346. gintranre Only a robin-red-breast with head tilted up to the sky, Pondering a possible raindrop in the cloud floating lazily by. Only a boy with a dog, a fishing rod, and a can of bait, Blithely whistling a tune as he climbs through the iron park gate. Only a sky of azure with a bit of fleece here and there, - Wild geese flying northward, their shrill cries piercing the air. And over all a stillness, as of muted organ rare, Bringing peace and calm to the senses like the conclusion of prayer. Then suddenly from out the quiet, a greeting joyous and clear, And Glo! the Queen enters the gate, Beautiful Spring is here. Helen Gibson, '46. A E-LlHfIB K K OVE laughs at locksmithsn was the motto which the handsome young Marquis of Marmouth had engraved upon his shield when he came to Paris. Being as bold as he was handsome, he began tohbmake love to Prin- cess Marguerite, the King's daughter, and the King was annoyed at his boldness. 'fThose are strong words which you have taken for your device, but are they true? he said. MI will lock the Princess up in a tower. If you can enter it within a month, you can marry her. If you fail, you must die. The Marquis pretended to be very upset. But he secretly ordered some wood carvers to make a great hollow, wooden nightingale and paint it. When it was finished, the Marquis got inside and played beautiful songs on a flue, while his servants pulled it through the streets, Everyone began to talk about the mechanical nightingale. The King came to see it and Prin- cess Marguerite asked for it to be brought to her. The King, thinking that the music was pro- duced by machinery, had the bird carried in to the tower, and out jumped the Marquis and kissed the Princess' hand saying: c'Love laughs at locksmiths, you seef' The Kingwas forced to acknowledge this as true, and seeing that the Princess and the Marquis loved each other, allowed them to marry. Jeanine Schlegel, '46. Searrhing fur Spring in the flgark N SEARCHING for Spring, I wandered along an untraveled path until I stood on a pic- turesque old bridge which gave me a View of a stream and the objects that bordered its banks. A short way up the stream, I could see the water leaping joyfully over a ledge of rock. The sun piercing the thick foliage caught the spray from the walls and made a rainbow. On each side of the creek were over-arching trees and deep green underbrush that seemed to be shielding the spot from all things that are not Twenty-two beautiful. Under the trees grew wild flowers, fern, and dark moss. I continued to gaze into the clear water, un- aware of the fact that there was anything more important than to count the bubbles formed on the smooth stream as the fish darted to the sur- face. Here was beauty and harmony of color and sound. The outside world would not dare intrude, for at last my search was ended. Spring had come again. ' Ann Jennings, '46, Hants HE old woman looked like a captured witch from another world. As Monsieur Capell thought this, the prophetess read his mind, and said in a soft voice which belied her appearance: HYes, Monsieur, I am truly from another world, for how else could I look into another world? g 4'Yes, to be sure Madame, said the man impatiently, for he was anxious to learn what he had come for. L'Now,- Madame, whatiis my future in your marvelous crystal ball? He asked this rather forcefully, for Monsieur was afraid his courage would fail him. The old woman pressed a button, and all lights in the room went out, as the ball alone glowed from the table. Madame leaned over it and worked her hands excitedly in the dim light. Finally she said in a screeching voice: Here, here, look Monsieur, it is here. Ah! your future-gaze, in here! Monsieur looked into her convulsed face and saw enough of his future there in her fiendish expression to send him tearing from the room, and stumbling into the street. For he realized that in the crystal ball lay his greatest disaster-the knowledge of his fu- ture, which God withholds from man, unless by chance he may discover it, with terrible results. Panic reflected in Madame's face had saved Monsieur from disaster. Emily A. Nichols, '46. I 61112 Qtntnhiugraphg nf zz mfg ' AM a wig. Not just an everyday wig, but a very special one as you will see. I was born many years ago in a Whig factory where all kinds of wigs were made. But, if I do say so myself, there never was and never will be another wig quite like me. I was bought when but a week old by a pompous gentleman who liked my looks. CI can't say I blame himj. But I must describe myself so you will understand. I am black, and parted on the side. I've just the right gloss and no one can accuse me of a patent leather shine. Anyway, to resume my story, Mr. Orvin Perriwinkle, my new owner, was a great one with the ladies. I know, because I accompanied him on all his expeditions. If I liked the lady in question, I'd lie as still as still could be. But if not, ugh, how I'd act up. I kept him grab- bing for me all the time, and I really had him wondering on which side I would part myself. I was especially proud of one of my tricks. I'd grab his hat as he tipped it to the ladies, and up I'd go. He never could understand 'why there were giggles and whispers at such times. How I laughed up my part! Well, time has passed and I no longer adorn my master's head. My glory was short lived, for he tried a new hair tonic and in a short time had a small crop of hair which I held, and still holdin contempt. But my day was over and I was thrown into the attic. There I lie, and the dust of generations has collected on me. No one knows that beneath my -dust covered exterior a playful heart still beats. Ah, IHC... A wigless head is a sorry sight, But a headless wigis in an awful plight! Joan White, '-46. C5!1naata Do you believe in ghosts?-I do. I've never seen one, it is true, But on a dark and dripping night, When the fog is drifting white Across the blackenedwindow-pane In long white wisps . . . I look again, Is it the tresses, strangely whitened Of a ghostly spirit, lost and frightened? What is the sound low and sighing, So persistent? It seems trying, trying, To tell me something secret and dark . . Why won't our sleeping Cocker bark? Tammy Miller, '-46. Twenty-three LEADS IN PEER CYNT Left to Right-Jeanine Schlegel, Barbara Clark, Anna May Bogie, Helen Gibson, Emily Nichols, Priscilla Smith, ' Betty Lou Anderson, Ann Jennings, Bruce Nutting. The qHlEIQ,5 the 'allqirrg T75 just like a formula. Several unalterable component parts . . . year after year . . . the passionate debate over which playa, what sort of play . . . the division of the class into six different camps, all armed over the Big Question . . . the budding Katherine Cornells and Bette Davises, each convinced that she alone can give an Academy Award performance . . . Yet somehow, finally the tryouts are over, all is calm and the play goes into production. lt is the Juniors, c'Big Moment. Here the form- ula magically takes on a certain something that Twenty-four only We can give itg Uur play will be a smash hit . .. Rehearsals! . . . shall we ever forget them? The awful day when Peer reported for rehearsal without a voice, or rather only the faintest cracked whisper of a voice, fold man laryn- gitis had him in his gripj, the difficulties in rounding up all the Lads and Lassies, fthe stub- born peasantry was hard to convince that its presence was imperative at all rehearsalsl, the poor Property Man going around dazedly mum- bling, 7A spinning wheel! Where in heck would I find a reindeer skull? CAST OF PEER CYNT Front Row-Mary Barton Thompson, Peggy Read, Evelyn Dixon, Hildegarde 0'Bannon, Joy Nachod, Betty Bryant, Laura Bullitt, Claudelle Schreiber, Donna Lee Comstock, Mary Lou Millican, Mary Haggin Moss. Second Row-Barbara Fitch, Tammy Miller, Dorothy Jones, Jean Atherton, Jeanine Schlegel, Barbara Clark, Betty Lou Anderson, Anna May Bogie, Helen Gibson, Emily Nichols, Bruce Nutting, Priscilla Smith, Ann Jennings, Doris Frick, Billy Jane Freeman, Mary Jane Brock, Annabelle Morier, Betty Moran. Back Row-Mary Jane Southwick, Martha Greene, Sally Lyons, Joan Ainslee, .loan White, Donna Walker. HE Third Lad, horrified, refusing to spit into Peer's eyes, Qbeing extremely fond of him in real lifej . . . the first rehearsal in the auditorium. Our voices in class room re- hearsals had roared and resounded, but on the cavernous stage, they becme thin piping squeaks, wheezy Whispers. At last, the '6Night!,' . . Peer, Asa, Solveig, the Troll King ,... everyone, down to the most vicious small troll, with icy hands, and burning cheeks . . . the wild confusion behind scenes . . . the magic smell of grease paint . . . the de- licious, musty, dusty, theatre smell of the dress- ing rooms . . . the electric tension in the air . . . Suddenly a bell rings softly . . . silence . . . the curtains sweep apart . . . Oh lovely, magic, never-to-be-forgotten mo- ment I Tammy Miller, '46. Twenty-five a r 31112 gliillark uf at Cbentlpman IIVIES have changed and along with the passing of the years, the fine art of being a gentleman has lost its appearance. Not many years ago the gentleman always walked on the side toward the curb when escort- ing a lady down the street. Never did he fail to tip his .hat when passing one of the weaker sex, and would not replace his hat while stand- ing and conversing with one of the long skirted belles of the day. No lady ever remained standing long in a street car if a gentleman were there to stand and allow her to be seated. No gentleman ever Uhnnght, I'm writing this poemg it may be 'my last For the enemy's fast closing in. l Iim thinking of the things that have hap- pened to me, ' And of the things I wish could have been. Iim thinking of seeing my buddy go down, And the look that he had on his face, And the Way that the line went on as before With' another man taking his place. I'm thinking of the time that I shot my first mang We were winning and the thought stayed no longer. But after the battle it came back to me, The horror a thousandfold stronger. boarded a car or train until every lady had first been helped on. Oh, but dear lady, don't mind which side of the sidewalks your escort Walks on. Don't fret if he fails to remove his hat. Don't quibble if he uses two seats ,one to rest his feets on. Don't allow your blood pressure to get too high if he does not step back to let you on the bus first. No, don't do anything unladylike, just get in there and use both elbows once in a While and maybe you can get on. Yes, the mark of a gentleman is gone. Doris A. F rick, '46. 'Qin Qrmnur V lim thinking of the time we captured a town, too weary, dog tired, to care. The thoughts of what's happened to boys in this war Is more than a person can bear. Iim thinking of, those that are waiting at home And I know if I don't get to live, That they'll think of me always, and love me Q more still P For, they'll know I gave all I could give. Oh, many and pressing, the thoughts that I think, They come to me day after day. Oh God, if Thou will it, I'll go back again, V And this time I'l1 go back to stay. Ioan, White, '46. mar I The bombing and shelling 'of home and lands, Tanks roaring o'er hills and sands, Thousands of airplanes up in the sky All o'er the world are seen flying by. This is heartless, brutal warg It's eternalifreedom we're fighting for. The homeless and starving in occupied towns, Where ever the enemy has made the rounds, , Battles being fought on land and sea, Blood which is shed wherever they be. This is heartless, brutal War, It's eternal peace we're fighting for. It's freedom of speech, from Want, from fear, These are the things We hold so dear. God Almighty in heaven above, - Let there be freedom! Let there be love! Q Jean Atherton, '46. , - q Gite ifflahg - A '6Speak in a voice, both low and sweet . . . A quiet demeanor when on the street . . . Exquisite manners are quiteessential . . . 'cBehavior must always be sedate, prudential . . Be honest and courteous,-wise if you can . . . 'cPlace vulgarity under the strictest ban . . . uAvoid ostentation and-display . . . 'Twenty-six uLet your heart be light and tender and gay . . .' These are the maxims, my Grandmother says, A lady must live by, all of her days. Often I sigh and despairingly wonder, As daily these rules I break assunder- How could a lady really exist, If in these commandments she did persist? , Tammy Miller, '46, Snzqaslyniz Snapshuta SOPHOMO RE CLASS Front Row-Lola Rosenbaum, Mary .lane Southwick, Sallie Lyons, Mary Lou Millicnn, Peggy Read, Belly Oppenheimer Anna May Bogie. ' Second Row-Barbara Fitch, Evelyn Dixon, Martha Greene, Mary Jane Brock. Back Row-Dorothy Jones, Frances Durham, Joan Ainslie, Mary Barton Thompson, Mary Haggin Moss, Betty Lynn Smith. Snphumnre Qllass mem In our picture you may have seen, That we now, number just seventeen, And gathering us into one great mass, We form the K.H.S. sophomore class. Taking us as a group in all, We range in size from short to tall, We're composed of all sorts as you can tell, With brunettes, redheads, and a blond as well. We learn about the English kings, And all kinds of geometrical things, In French we glibly Hparlez-vous. Then struggle with Latin and English, too. Ahead of us we have set a goal, And we have agreed as a whole, To make it very sure and clear That Juniors Weill be next year. Sallie Lyons, '-47. Twenty-nine ' A glillih lgear Eixama Up at six before the dawn, ' To study I-Iistory. All I ever knew is gone, - And just one mystery. If I had studied all the year, As I was told to dog Then everything would seem quite clear, , I'd know my studies through. But instead, this night before, Ihave to sit and cram. I study till I can no more, All for this one exam. I fall asleep at half past one, The light glares in my eyes. My studies have just now begun, Too late to realize. Dreary-eyes when morning comes, So tired I cannot think, In my mind a voice hums, 'gWatch out! I'll bet you sink! If I had only gone to bed, And studied all the year, I wouldn't have to cram instead, Or have a single fear. Anna May Bogie, ,47. 51112 j.11H11ist1e-gllree Minh NCE, long, long, ago in the days when there were such things as cigarettes and Q steaks, there lived in the great Eternity, a repulsively fat gentleman whose name was I. M. Wind. He was a jolly old man with a merry face and black, twinkling eyes and if he had had a long white. beard, he would have looked like Santa Claus, if only there had been one in those days, for you see this occurred before anyone lived on this earth. fAnd now to resume the narrativej Old I. M. had a terrible habit of f whistling all the time, continuously, day and Eight, Finally, all the inhabitants of'Etern- ity got together and called an assembly, and they especially asked the Almighty if he would be present. Soon the day of the great council arrived, and before long poor Mr. Wind was sitting on the witness stand, facing trial for his life! And all he had done was to keep all Eternity awake with his incessant whistling! . The day on which he was to be decapi- tatedf, The Almighty, feeling a sudden impulse of pity fill his soul, asked I. M., if there were any last requests which he wished to be granted. Dear, sweet I. M. said he had only one and that was that he wished his whistle to be left behind him as a living monument. This, the Almighty, of course could not grant, for it would defeat the very purpose of doing away with him. Bu.: the Almighty did promise that he would keep all of his whistle, but the noise. So, if you can whistle without making a bit of noise, you will see from whence came our wind, which never seems to cease. Martha Greene, '47, Zgnnnr 331111 FIRST QUARTER ' SECOND QUARTER 1 THIRD QUARTER ,loan Ainslie ,loan Ainslie Mary ,lane Brock llxflary I-llgilheary Bryant Mary Hiieary Bryant Mary Hilleary Bryant A?lI:1IgaBullh1tt Laura Bullitt Laura Bullitt Harriet Field Anne Bush Aung Bush Ann Franke Harriet Field . D Mary Qwsley Grant Ann Franke Hafflet Fleld Ruth Marv Jordan Mary Qwsley Grant Ann Franke Sallie Lyons R th M r J rd n Nancie Mall u a Y O a JOY Nachod Joy Nachod I-Iildegarde O'Bannon Sallie Lyons Emily Nichols Emily Nichols Joan White I 0311 White Thirty Hildegarde Q Bannon y Ghz 1944 Eng Shnfn HE first event of the 1944 Kentucky Home School year was the annual dog show, given by the sophomores. October 21st was the day, and the weather was absolutely per- fect, warm and sunny. Quite a crowd gathered in the circle, with dogs of all breeds, from Great Danes to curs. Before the show thereuwas a delightful exhibition, given by a trained shep- herd dog, who did marvelous tricks, much to the enjoyment of the crowd. When at last the show began, the people were told it was divided into twelve classes, including the puppies, and that the judge was to be Charles Krebs. Candy and soft drinks were sold throughout the show, to the delight of everyone, especially the children. Great endeavor was made to keep the dogs from each others, throats, and by some miracle this feat was accomplished. There were three ribbons given in each class, blue, red, and white, and a cup was presented to the best dog of all, a black cocker. The day ended without any disastrous events, and the proceeds went toward the editing of the 1945 year book. A .loan Ainslie, '47. Thirty-one mhz Qlinine nf the Minh' LOWING through the black storming sea the small ship was tossed back and forth until it was far off itscourse. The passen- gers had given up all hope of surviving. The course was completely lost--nothing but the black raging sea and the dashing wind and rain. The captain of the small vessel was frantic, not only would all these lives be lost but the precious cargo also. It was impossible to know which way to steer the ship. All efforts proving to be in vain, the cap- tain began to pray. Later, as he stood watching their doom drawing closer and closer, it seemed as if he heard a voice directing him, telling him in which direction to turn-the voice of the wind. Slowly by this guidance, the ship emerged from the storm and safely steamed to its destination. I Evelyn Dixon, '47, Searliff . T IS a rainy afternoon in Seacliff and I find y myself strolling down the sidewalk alone. I can see the fog becoming thicker as it rolls in from the ocean and sweeps down the bay to- wards Berkeley. .. It gives a person a relaxed feeling as one loses himself in the fog with his thoughts-just meditating. He imagines all sorts. of strange things happening a few steps away and the dismal sound of the fog horn in the' distance envelopes one with a weird sense of mystery and excitement. Fog does strange things to oneis imagina- tion. I stroll further and further from home and begin hearing strange noises close by. I then distinguish footsteps coming closer. I cautiously continue walking and suddenly, as if by magic, the footsteps cease. Then with equal suddenness, they begin again, even closer to me. This continues and arouses my curiosity to a point of uncertainty and even of terror. I gather speed and out of the fog comes a friend of mine. - We talk a moment, then part, and I trace my steps homeward. Now and then I hear again the strange sounds of the footsteps of someone out walking and with more assurance than before, I con- template the strange sound of footsteps in the fog and the frightening fact of not knowing to whom they belong. Mary Jane Brock, ,47. Glrnszruailz UNC ago outside a very ancient city the two main roads through the city crossed not far from the city gate. All the main traffic met here going and coming. Caravans laden with treasures, simple towns- men and farmers paused here to look at the post erected, with all the road signs. On the top of this post was the head of Thirty-two Hermes, the guardian of travelers. Everyone stopped to consult the sign and discuss the topics of the day. This went on for thousands of years and finally became a tradition. Now these great crossroads have become unknown and obscure paths, never again to know the glory of its past days. , Evelyn Dixon, '47. gdilag Bag, 1945 NOTHER year, another Senior class, another May Day. The lower classes grace- fully marched onto the scene and took their places. Everyone was breathless with sus- pense. This was the moment they had all waited for, the announcement of the Queen of the May. The Herald, Ann Jennings of the Junior class, stood before the gathering and with a loud clear voice proclaimed the name of this year's Queen of May. The name, G'Mary' Stuart Anderson, was followed by heartfelt applause. 'cQueen Mary Stuarti' was led to her throne. Next, Mary Hilleary Bryant was named Maid of Honor. Again a hearty round of ap- plause, and she in turn, was led to her place beside the Queen. The Maid of Honor placed the crown of flowers on the Queen's head. Then in a majestic voice, the Queen of the May read the Proclamation which brought to a close another beautiful May Day for us to remember. Doris Ann. Frick, ,46. T hirty-three ' ' gllnntfall T HAS been six long months since the hid- eous murder of Jeanne Colin. She had been a homely girl and had taken her revenge on all of her unfortunate acquaintances. A great number of people had had a motive for killing her for she had many enemies but none of them aroused more suspicion than the crippled man who had been acquitted. The detectives had uncovered nothing in all the time they had been searching. Jeanne was dead and all man- kind was better off without her so the case had been given up as hopeless. The old-fashioned red-brick boarding house looked weird and mysterious in the misty night air. In the dimly lighted hall, were lined up on the wall, a group of doorbells and little cards under them. The last one had a dark brown line drawn through the name HMiss Jeanne Colin. In the parlor, sitting before the dying embers in the marble fireplace, sat an old blind woman, who ran the 'boarding house. She had a mon- strous black cat with large, glassy eyes, perched in her lap, as though to keep watch over his sightless mistress. Yes, she had been quite ex- cited about the murder, but she would make no statement as to whom she suspected of the u E112 'ligne WAS strolling down a country lane near my aunts one summer day when an old woman came into sight. As she came closer I recog- nized her. It was Maggie, an old woman whom I had known all my life. Maggie had no home, really. She just wandered around with her little cart pulled by Dumplings, her old gray horse. She cooked and cleaned around the country whenever anyone needed her. It was strange about Maggie. She had been blind all her life yet nothing ever harmed her. It seemed as though all nature loved and protected her. As she came nearer I stopped her and talked with her. After talking a while she said, uWe'd Thirty- four nf crime. All through the ghastly business she kept behind the cover of her blindness, 44Yes, Jasper, she cooed softly, we know who did it, don't we? We know all about it! Heh! Heh! The sharp buzz of the doorbell interrupted her reverie and she listened intently in order to learn the identity of the mid-night caller. The shrill tone of quarreling men reached her ever- attentive ears. Then, a scuffle and the silence broken only by the sound of a dragging foot. She smiled in her crafty way, as though con- ceiving a wily plan. It all happened so quickly that the Police Department hadn't time to collect their wits. Some old blind woman had called and said that she knew who had murdered Jeanne Colin. Soon, a poor defenseless cripple was hanging from the gallows. The blind -ladyis conscience never seemed to trouble her for she sat there night after night, stroking the silky fur of her cat. MWell, Jasper, we did it again, for who would ever suspect an old blind woman of killing a girl, in cold blood, out of pure hatred. Martha Greene, '47, the 'iglinh better start for shelter. It's going to rain. It was a strange statement because it was a beau- iful day, not a cloudiin the sky. I asked her how she knew and she said, in her low, quiet voice, The wind told me. It often whispers in my ear. It tells me little secrets. You can't hear it but I can. It has a sure, steady voice. We walked on and by the time we had reached the porch of my aunt's house it was raining hard. I have often wondered since if Maggie did hear the Voice of the Wind. Dorothy Jones, '47. FRESHMAN CLASS AND SUB-FRESHMAN CLASS Front Row-Patricia Hobbs, Geraldine Hammer, Claudelle Schreiber. Second Row-Laura Bullitt, Barbara Kline, Elizabeth Cooley, Joyce Franz, Caroline Bickel, Bettie Bryant. Third Row-Miriam Smith, Joy Nachod, Dorothy Lewis. Back Row-Carolyn Redman, Martha Frances Neblett, Florence Hendrick, Joyce Victor, Donna Lee Comstock. fNot Presentl-Vida Beard, Jessie May Slack, Hildegarde O'Bannon. Senior Gllaas uf 1945 Introducing the class of '48, One by one we here will state Each Freshman girl as We know now, Whose tale we'll tell, if you'll allow. Let's first take those who came in new, Vida, Joyce, and Dotty, too. Franz pounds out that boogie beat, Those two, her pals, are pretty and sweet. Lots of others, too many to say, Among them Liz and Barbara gay, Additions to our class, each one, May we say we're glad they come? Meet Miss Bryant, our student so smart, Our treasurer, publisher, quite good in art, Our other members have shown their worth, Like Flippy, so jolly, bubbling over with mirth. We had a class journal especially for you, We gathered waste paper to slap the laps, too We practiced our hockey with 'cAllen,' this fall ln spite of the fact we had just one good ball Well now, in closing, let us say, The Freshman class, will, come what may, Make its grades that we may pass ln triumph to the Sophomore class. Laura Bullitt and Joy Nachod, '48. W Sub- 7 1'B5lf111RII We the Sub-freshmen of '45 Are few in numbers but quite alive, Claudelle is the short brown-eyed girl Who is always loyal and has a cute curl, She's quitea dancer, so live heard, And can twirl as fast as a little bird. Hockey is l-lildegarde's favorite sport, Dancing, also, is her forte, She loves good books and the out of doors And she eats her apples to the cores. We hope to have hockey during the spring That We may improve our awkward swing, To become a scholaris our main desire Though perhaps we'll not set the world afireg Being a freshman's our future thought We'll try to learn-what we are taught. Although our class right now is small Each year we add a few in the fall. We never play a leading role ' - Though we're in the cast both heart and soul, And so l will end without more ado For really we-are only a class of two. Hild-egarde 0,Bannon and Clauclelle Schreiber, '49. Thirty- five J QHBIILIE n 1. The Waves, so says the legend old, Lapped round that wondrous shell, Where stood a maid whose -hair of gold, Around her shoulders fell. II. Tis Venus, fair Venus, The Season's proclaim, While the Graces dance round her, In joy shout her name. III. The Gods, seeing all, Were pleased with the sight, And Jupiter, approving, Called down in his might, I Iv. Come Venus, beloved one, And thou shalt be mine, But Venus, refusing, Said, uI'll not be Thinef' V. Then, love, in his Wrath, Gave Vulcan the bride, To punish fair Venus, Rebuking her pride. VI. She now reigns eternal, In Olympus above, Goddess of Beauty, Marriage, and Love. o A Joy N achod, '48, lplufu Pluto is a fierce god. His face is grim and stern. He is the god of Tartarus Where wicked spirits burn. I-Ie rides in a great chariot Drawn by two black steeds. Near him is the goddess nlusticen Weighing dead soul's deeds. He sits upon a throne In his dreary realm below Where the five great rivers Of Hades round him flow. ' With a river of fire and a river of tears, Tartarus is surrounded, While by the blessed Lethe The Elysian Fields are bounded. To get across to Hades Where every spirit goes, Souls must cross deep Acheron, Across which Charon rows. The Furies and the Fates Assist Pluto well, While a three-headed dog, Cerberus Guards the dark gates of Hell. Bettie Bryant, '48, ggraguma , H, LITTLE rice plant, as I lie here in this cool water bed of yours to escape the heat of the afternoon, I believe I will take advantage of this time to unwind my tale of woe. To begin with, this, the most widely read encyclopedia of the day, states as follows, 'aDragons are mythical characters, believed to be ferocious, and evil doersf, Imagine me, mythical and such a reluctant clan as I, defined as ferocious! To explain the evil part, it went thus, 'One gloomy day, in Eastern China, my great, great, great grandparents came from their mountain home to visit this city for the first Thirty-six time. The people were so frightened they fled to the mountain side for protection. ,lust at the choice moment the volcano erupted and buried all these poor, frightened people. For this, and only this, we were considered an evil force. Could we help it if this unrespectable mountain erupted at that very moment? How unjust that I should receive this mountain's punishment! How can I ever repair these false impressions, created by such misinformed zoologists? Perhaps some day soon, they will learn that it is always best to consult the victim before making such unfounded assumptions. Donna Lee Comstock, '48. LOWER SCHOOL Front Row--Nancy Anderson, Judy Beierfield, Lois Carter, Joan Dell Cox, Barbara Smith, Mary Bert Bornslei .lean Elizabeth Beichman. Second Row-Ruth Southwick, Rosemary Third Row-Betty Lou Ungerleider, Ru Qs little 7 Iufner Spring will soon be here, Said the little flower in her wint wllhe warm rains are near, As she peeped out her head. 'flack Frost has gone away, So has the ice and snow. Until next winter they will stay, Now is the time for me to grow. Rosenbaum, Agnes Beauchamp. th Dunn, Janet Coulson, Belly Southwick, Jacqueline Combs. Planes At evening when I go to bed er hed. Many planes fly overhead. With their tail lights shining bright, To show they're inthe skies at night. In the morning when I arise, The planes are still up in the skies, Flying high, and some fly down, But never dropping bombs on towns. Jackie Combs, 7th Grade. Agnes Baird Beauchamp, 7th Grade. Q PUB Swaps My doggie's name is Snappy. A very good dog is he. - He's And He's And always gay and happy fills my heart with glee. always running down the street s always chasing squirrels. lin hopes his master he will meet. ' He leaves the postman in a whirl: Barbara Smith, 7th Gradej Thirty-seven , W 5251513115 Another spring has rolled around. ' Summer gives way to fall, Crocuses are peeping through the ground, And how one likes to see the spring Vlfith its warmth 'nigeverythingl ' Summer will be here before long Which means flowers and birds with song, And summer too, we like to see, Q Because it brings to all, joy and glee. A season loved by all, A And of its beauty words can't tell Because we're under its magic spell. Winter appears with a blanket of snow. A-sleighing we will go, And none of us could guess Which of the seasons we like the best. Ruth Dunn, 71311, Grade. Sunni I think the snow is very nice, When the water turns to ice. ' Yes, snow is what I really love r As it streams down from the sky above. It falls on trees and houses and people And it covers every church steeple. It falls on lawns and yards and dogs. It freezes the ponds with all their frogs. All of a sudden, maybe at night, The ground becomes all spread with white. And a million specks come hurling down, To cover the streets, and cover the town. lady Beierfield, 7th grade. , y p Spring Spring is ,in the air, Spring iseverywhere. Rustling through the trees, Waking birds and bees. eflilig glfirst C9p2rzt I saw my first opera in a very large city, It was in New York where everyone was witty. There were children and grownups, such a crowd, And everyone clapped when the director bowed. The voices, the music, how beautiful they were, Sometimes it' was soft like a kitten's purr, ' Or sometimes loud, triumphant' and bold. One of the stars was an Indian, I was told. Pagliacci, the clown, was a very jolly fellow- In America they call him Punchinello - His voice was strong, and oh, so grand, Better than Sinatra who sings with a band. The opera was wonderful, I liked it very much, The singing, the music, I never heard such. Betty Lou Ungerleider, 6th Grade. Thirty-eight Oh, how I love spring, It's such a pretty thing. And when this beauty ends, It's summer time again. Rosemary Rosenbaum, 7th Grade. Spring Spring brings lots of April showers. That strengthens the buds of the pretty May flowers. Crocus blooms, and grass gets green. Cranky people get less mean. Yes, it's wonderful in the spring, When the robin begins to sing. When the buds begin to bloom, When the sunshines in your room. When you hear the hobolink, Spring is lovely, don't you think? fudith Ann Beierfield, 6th Grade. FACULTY Mrs. Reid, Miss Weakley, Miss Maddox, Mrs. Page, Miss Moody, Mrs. Bullitt, Mrs. Arthur, Mrs. Ray, Miss Allen, Miss Scott. fNot Presentl-Mrs. 0'Bannon, Madame Vallet. GLEE CLUB Front Row-Nancie Mall, Priscilla Smith, Miriam Smith, Joyce Franz, Dorothy Lewis, Ella Tatum Miller, Annabelle Morier, Virginia Franz, Nancy Armstrong, Geraldine Hammer, Miss Moody, director. Second Row-Joan Miller, Anna May Bogie, Martha Greene, Bettie Morgan, Joan White, Bruce Nutting, Mary Stuart Anderson, Mary Owsley Grant. Third Row-Frances Durham, Ann Jennings, .lean Atherton, Donna Walker, Ruth Mary Jordan, Betty Lynn Smith, Betty Washburn, Priscilla Tomlinson. Back Row--Sallie Lyons, Joan Ainslie, Harriet Field, Mary Jane Bachman, Emily Nichols, Lola Rosenbaum. ' Thirty-nine E 5 5 E 5 5 E 3 1 ! 2 a 5 1 i Z 5 E E 4 J 5 F! s 5 ? 5 E e 5 i E Q ri I 5 lx 'l 5 E E 1 5 i 4 E 1 U 3 1 '?.m'f? ' I '-1 +e'q.I, ' ' .I .. ' '.TIIQ. 'l r-:if ' .'.? 'i 'iiltt, ' Elf' -1.51. i'..5Ig -:Ig-f. I H. TEH? ' J I. 'EI I. I 7: I fi. I I . 'I II III I -I,.I I I. ..fI1.1'i1 I+I.,.,I 'I . IIT -+ I II-. '- II-Ig-.IIEPII -. II .If . IIII ..II'2-if I I. 4 ..' , I 3 .. 'Z' . 'F- I 41. I 4 A rI.I EI .lx I -1 I.I . -' In I - - ' ',. ' 'H::i? f:'.Lg.'.Ig' f'-.'fl:2IjI ' 'III E. EI' I . . -v - 39' ' -' E- ' 1 l ':'.i 'Z ' 'I J k!1 7g:QI-51: L '.4Ea'l? ':.:-'x'. I-51 .' -i '!'- '- - ' as ' . ' :' g?EE',II5'.1'I'.I-IIIIII I. IQSRIL I5. jg -iI'III .1':IT 1 . I'lIIII. ': I.I .I. III .,II .'Ij. 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