Knox School - Rose Leaves Yearbook (Nissequogue, NY)

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E E by the exotic dancing of Yalerie Lang, who we suspect was just advertising for the Peggy Quail' Novelty Company, in her ultra-grass skirt. We should have liked In see more of those adventurers, but the cloud dis.tppe.u'ed and was followed by another which took us back to America, yy here we learned more of the class's accomplish- ments. One of the current works of Suzanne Snaith, Poet Laureate ot Pittsburgh, we find comparable only to the life she led at Knox, and we quote the opening lilies of her most important work V Love is just a burning ember, but not for you unless you're slenderf Another artist, Anita Taylor. is successor to Petty. She not only draws crowds, but is her own model in a mirrored studio designed by Nlargie Weeks, which strangely enough opens upon .1 glass-brick swimming pool, where Margie practices her daily diving feats, It looks as if the Daisy Club has gone to seed! Ham and Hack are chorewomen at Dartmouth, and 'lackie Webster was only runner-up in the 'bliss Andover Contest. Pat Cole, Phyllis Novotny, Nancie Stewart, 'lean Thursby, Betty Appel, and .Ioey llollilfe were shown at the weekly meeting ofthe Association for Perpetual Adoration of Westchester County. The members are p.u'ticularly ioyous, for through the dipf loinatic endeavors of Betty Appel, they have secured the '4Chateau as the site ol' a sub-sub-committee of the United Nations. Empty pulls floated by until one with a decided aroma of dog-food suspended itself before us. ln it we saw Nancy Gray, exhibiting a unique species ot canine, which she is training for an equally unique cause one that will raise dog-hood to its zenith. Yes, Natty Bumpo has done it again her dogs are running elevators. The lilting strains of a Samba took us to the epclusive Rio Room, owned and operated by Senorita Bobby Blewer. On the piano, the internationally renowned Sue Carter was playing the accompaniment for those rhythmic artists, Lydia johnson, Tobye Cramer, Nanson De Silva, and Peggy Pindar, who enchanted their audience with their rendition of what too much colliee has done to Brazil. As this cloud disappeared, we anxiously awaited the arrival of the next one, which revealed a scene in Lexington, Kentucky, where Dawn Burt was running her horse Caterpillar, the great-great-grandson of Hfvlan O' War, in the Kentucky Derby, Her jockey was none other than Colonel Phyllis Strauss, who after her ex- ertion was seen relaxing on her plantation sipping a mint-iulep in true Southern fashion. Further West, the cloud disclosed the metropolis of South Bend, where Kathy Keller and Beth Wadsworth were opertating a restaurant and grill, appropriately called The Bender, which caters exclusively to Notre Dame. Although it was Nliss lieller's vibrant personality which attracted the customers, it was the excellent 105 529 If s ' INA1 ' Ziff T .I 5, s ,. l X WZ I I ,JCC lil

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RUN FULL fi - I A qulffnl l 0. Jill! spans. A g,.g....., V 1 We beg you not to ask us how we got there, the place is out of bounds. You shouldn't know anything about Rum Hill because we didn't either until one day last week. We were walking along Lake Street wondering what Father Time had in store for the Class of '47, We know you will HOF believe us when we tell you that as we pondered the fate of said students, a little man dropped from a tree branch and landed at our feet. He had lavender eyes and green hair which he patted on both sides as if anticipating an early growth of antlers. Une could easily see that he was not of this world. As in a trance we followed his ellin footsteps without further ado, followed to wherever he was bound. It was late that afternoon when we found ourselves confronted by a steep and lonely hill. Our weary feet rebelled, and as we stood watching the little man for further developments, he pointed to the summit with a gnarled finger, saying, Rum Hill, Rum Hill, the top is nearest heaven -lust reach its peak, if you must seek the fate of the Class of '47. He pranced about us for several moments, took one leap into the air, clicked his heels twice, and evaporated before our eyes, We stood in complete wonderment, when no sooner had he disappeared than giant thunder clouds rose over the hill. We debated for a moment, but even though the storm grew in ferocity, curiosity won out, and we resigned ourselves to the climb. We walked silently through the rising storm, heads bowed low against the wind. Boulders of black atmosphere tumbled across the fields, casting shadows on our paths, and binding trees to the quivering earth. Far below us the lake lay tossing against its banks as if trying to escape what seemed like the end of the world. Above our heads the sky began to take on purple streaks which trickled across its spaciousness and became lost in the blackness of that un- forgettable afternoon. Lightning ripped the sky, and the sight of its bolt struck us as did the words of our little elhn companionfthe fate of '-47 'that's why we were on that hill eand now we had reached its crest. We waited, but not for long, be- cause from the sky, coming closer every minute, was an ebony bolt of atomic at- mosphere. We stared hard trying to discern what was happening in its center. Surely we must be seeing things, it couldn't possibly be Carvel Hidlay still in Vassar, thumbing tentatively through Harrison's Revised Dictionary which contains some words that Great-great-Uncle Noah had forgotten. In the corner of that dismal library, we saw Dotty Petrecca standing menacingly over her with a whip. :X grim sight indeed, but colleges have no more use for monkey business. :X new gust of wind whisked by with a definite salty tang, as we watched its vapors reveal Ann Lowry, captain of the Walloping Window Blind sailing to Pago-Pago to pick up Yiolet Albrecht, who had been lost on a desert island for live years. Among the hearty crew was Marcia Rice, who seemed particularly well suited for her post in the crow's nest because of her monotone voice which shouted crowflike from the topsails, Land-lrlOl The eager crew was greeted on the dock 104 fl io . 13. . M if l, '-ws I ,M . 1 0 N I IN, -fir A b V F' -

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PHD cuisine of Chef Phyllis Andreson that kept them coming. Also perceived in South Bend, was Mary Gallo, who is the first female football coach for the Irish. The scene crumbled as electronic waves produced a new vision of radio station KNOX in Texas, where Mama Murr and staff were reading the Sunday funnies to the kiddies. Playing the part of the villainous Dragon Lady, was Nancy Shimer, with Ida Mae as Lena, the Laughing Hyena. Barbara Palbicke, the boon to televison, was reading the pilff of Little Iodine. Flying over the Ozarks, the clouds showed us Gail Miller, growing potatoes on her little farm, to be shipped directly to the Soft 'n Soggy Potato Chip Company. A piercing wind blew in some Virginia sunshine, and scenes of salty wharves drifted before us. Then the vision blurred, and hazy clouds obstructed our view. But from the mist issued the southern drawl of Antoinette Gilman, peddling fish, calling, Fresh octopus, have a tentacle with every meal, guaranteed to last a week. Not very far from the wharves the sound of dentists drills reached our ears and the haze began to rise, revealing Valerie l-lerwick posting a newly painted sign above a doorf One smell from Snell and you're feeling well-fpainless dentist. Some lightning flickered suddenly across the heavens, illuminating the sky just ong enough to reveal an Elizabethan scene, which turned out to be in reality, joan Turk playing the role of Palstaff, with Gerry Gardiner as valiant Prince l-Ial. An odor of disinfectants pervaded our senses as we were transported to a hospital in the deep South, where Alabama Alma, registered nurse, was soothing her patients with her smooth melodic voice, accompanied by a banjo on her knee. Suddenly a tree swayed violently, and crashed in front of our path. A mammoth boulder of blackened haze ensued,which was shattered by a horse and rider, in the brilliant attire of the Northwest Mounted Police. We were amazed to view Diane Norris, astride the mount, searching for Joan Spencer, who was lost on the ski trail-fout of bounds as usual. As Diane charged by, she left in her path a huge puff of dust which blew into our eyes causing a most unusual occurrence. Tears began to flow down our cheeks, blurring our vision until we each peered through two giant drops, through which we per- ceived janet Wood, garbed in her judicial robes, writing the speeches of her fellow Ohio politicians. In the back of the court room, Warden Marie Harris ushered prisoners to and from their cells, her latest victim being No. 59704 Jean Oakes, who looked unabashed as he faced Judge Wood for trial in the Case of the Missing Mattress. A refreshing gust cleared the depressing court room atmosphere,as chartreuse clouds slid over the hill's crest. We gazed bewildered, giant scissors, combs and hair pins 106