Little Falls High School - Profile Yearbook (Little Falls, NY)

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LITTLE FALLS HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR CLASS BOOK Class Prophecy PLACE - PURGATORY TIME -- 2034 With a blare of trumpets the mighty gates swing noiselessly open and Joseph Santry, most grand and opulent keeper of the Keys of Purgatory stepped forward to view my credentials and passport. Find' ing them all in order he loudly announced mv name and time of arrival. A man in a long white robe and skullcap entered these particulars in a record book and signing his name, Charles Fort, Clerk , turned the page and told the doorman that the Class of 1934 of Little Falls High School was all present. On hearing this Frederick Riebesell and John Kllc be' gan to sing Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here but were soon sfenced by John Ferguson, Sargeantfat' arms, who seemed to be aroused at such frivolity in the sacred precincts of Purgatory. Purgatory. An evergreen light revealed groups of peoplevscurrying about in all directions. Some chanting softly to themselves in sonorous monotone while others glancing furtively about them, attempted to hide their earthly sins in leather brief cases. Kenneth Waldvogel came rushing madly out of a buidirg, darting here and there and peering about as if looking for something. He always does that, explained Steve Bielejcc. noticing my bewilderment, he needs one more good deed to get into Heaven where Anne Gauder is. Wishing Ken good luck I turned down the street, where Anna Buno had directed that I should find the outHtter's. Gathered before my destination was a crowd of excited, impatient, barefooted people. Robert Cliff ford, immaculate as usual, with a razorflike crease in his pure white tunic, was looking rather harrased. But, I've told you, he explained, we're all out of size eight sandals--they should be here any' time now. That's what you told us last week, snarled Steve Klimek. And the week before, added Marion Smith. Yes, and the week before that, shrilled Frieda Weinhiemer, Helen Sikorski, Wilma Walach, Patsy Rizzi and Steve Osley, who comprised the best of the mob. George Schiemer, who appeared to be Bob Cliff ford's partner in the Outfitter's Shop , skirted the edge of the gestulating crowd and approached me, holding out a pair of sandals. They're eights, he whispered excitedly, your size. You see, I don't want you around storming the place, too. We're used to them thoughfpointing a thumb over his shoulder-'so they don't bother us any more. Having been completely outfitted I went across the street where a sign announced that: Albert Volpe sells the best quality Halos at rock bottom prices, 51.98 to S3.49. The proprietor came rushing forward to greet me and as we talked over old times I noticed Jennie Glica at a dressing table, feverishly trying on halos of every size and description. She would paw pile of them on the table before one, would place it on her head and view the result in a mirror. off, she would reach for another. it for days, sighed Albert hope' through the great her, and selecting at a jaunty angle 'Ihen snatching it She's been at U31 lessly. Look, here comes the last of my stock and still she isn't pleased. As he spoke, Mildred Knapp came forward with a varied collection of brass halos and laid them be' fore Jennie, who worked herself up in a frenzy, at the thought of new ones to try on. Albert directed me next door where Olga Woroby sold fine harps reasonably. In Olga's store Doris Foote and Morris Kruger were plunking th: strirgs on the harps experimentally. You'll never learn without buying one, spoke up Nellie Delezek, who was trying to help them pick out their instruments. Haven't you anything I can blow on? pleaded Warren Canarro, with a distainful glance at the harps. You blow around enough as it is, replied Alma Leahman tartly. Here, try this Spangled one. Finally deciding on a green stripped one, I walked down the street with the others who had just acquired harps. We proceeded to Richard Barnes' School of Harpingf' Seeing us, Rich raised his hands high in the air and exclaimed: Another batch! And the others here only a week. Mass production, that's what it is. How can they expect good harpists when I only have a week to teach them? All right, he signaled to Ray Bloker, Lucille Allen, Catherine Babjar, John Grab' owski and Steve Malek who were waiting, you can go, your as good on the harp as anyone could be in a week. Come back tomorrow, he added to the newcomers. Going down the steps I glanced up' ward and beheld Bob Stewart sailing majestically by overhead on his own personal cloud. A tiny golden halo whirled briskly around about six inches above his head while a long purple robe fluttered grace' fully behind him. Bob raised his hand in salute and as he did so a great white Persian cast, which had been reclining lazily on one edge of the cloud, be' came dislodged and came tumbling downwarld. At this point I was knocked off my feet as some one brushed by. Vfhen I had recovered my balance I saw Ned Mulford flying down the street after the now terriorfstricken cat, his white robe waving giddily behind him. Someone save that cat, roared Bob Stewart, quickly landing his cloud. Donald Doxtader and Frank Gregorin, in bright green livery quickly aided his Most Honorable Overseer and Commissioner of Purgatory in alighting from his vehicle while Walter Holcik in the same livery, blew feverishly on a tin police whistle. A siren began to wail and Orlando Diodati, John Kopek, Danny Milan and Steve Viscup came rushing up to us bearing a stretcher crying, Where's the body, the body? It's the commissioner's cat, explained Virginia Mikus to them, and its Elizabeth Majtan, Sophie Grelowski who has just come up to see what all the excitement was about. Mulford's after it again. Oh, is that all, sighed Joe Donadio, who also had been attracted by the noise, I thought it was something unusual! Come on you! You're blocking traffic, snarled Policeman Arland Brazie, clipping Stanley Kofinski and William Kllc soundly on the head with his night

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........................................................................................-.-.I----------H----------------------H---------H-----------lm------fu----------------U LITTLE FALLS HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR CLASS BOOK intelligence to the Junior Class, or to such inf dividuals who feel the need of a little of it. We, Charles Fort and Steve Malek, do be' queath our wonderful understanding of French translation to Richard Rasch. I, Elizabeth Majtan, do bequeath my an' gelic behavior in American History class to Jane Clingen, Who would ever think that either of us would misbehave? We, Catherine Babjar, Michael Palamar, John Skandera and William Sivack, do be' queath our musical talent in producing saxof phone moans, clarinet wails and violin scratches to any hopeful future musicians. I, Herbert Upright, do bequeath to Mr. Archer my well known ability as a debator, so that he may be able to persuade Miss Mesick that there are other things of importance be' sides history. I, Orlando Diodati, do bequeath my great speed as a runner to Fred Teall, so that he may run away from the girls more easily. We, jane Norris, Beryl Watkins, and Catherine Opesky, do bequeath our notftofbef denied attractiveness and beauty to the girls of the Junior Class who are somewhat wanting in this respect. We, Bessie Paracka and Josephine Pawelek, do bequeath our supply of gum to Miss King- ston. We, Alfonso Frezza and john Spurza, do bequeath our ability to stick to the dear old Alma Mater to Dewitt Scott, so that he may become as attached to it as we were. I, John Ferguson, do bequeath to Fielding O'Kelley a book which has proven useful to me. It is entitled The Etiquette of Bumming a Cigarette. We, Albert Volpe and Warren Canarro, do bequeath to Mr. Archer our loud voices. With the three combined he should be the Hrst person to shout from here to Hawaii. E221 We, William Kllc and Joseph Donadio, do bequeath to Mr. Woolever our ability to bum rides. We think he will Soon be able to make use of it, since his car looks and sounds as if it is falling apart. I, Jennie Bober, do bequeath to Arlene Munk my spectacles so that she will cease to squint when she takes Shorthand dictation. I, Freda Weinheimer, do bequeath my shy nature and retiring manner by which I have Co well succeeded in life so far, to the one person whom I most admire, Miss Kingston. I, Pat Rizzi, do bequeath my dramatic abilf ity to Michael Mizerak, who does not need it. We, Maynard Tansley and Steve Viskup, do bequeath to all who use the library our quietness, so that Miss Rease will forget that the bell rang five minutes ago. I, Sophie Grelowski, do bequeath my corn' cob pipe to Mr. Thayer, since I think it will make a Hne companion for him on his fishing trips. I, Marion Bowen, do bequeath my pepsof dent smile to Mr. Woolever, so that he may beam more jovially on the trigonometry class. I, Marion Smith, do bequeath my collecf tion of Love Story Magazines to that shy and demure young lady, Marguerite Kane. I, Helen Smith, do bequeath my thin waistline to Betty Bennett, who, although she does not need it now, may be able to make use of it if she ever gets Stout. I, Alma Leahman, do bequeath my supply of bus tickets to Steve Feryance, so that he may get to school more easily. Witnesses Qsignedj FREDERICK RIEBESELL HERBERT UPRIOHT

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LITTLE FALLS HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR CLASS BOOK stick. Step lively there afore I throw ya in the cooler. Staggering from the force of the impact, the two unlucky Ones made their way to different sections, muttering foul things about lawfupholder Brazie. Say, brother, can you spare a cigarette? pleaded a voice, and turning I saw Harry Iewell lounging against a lamp post with a vague look on his face. Only one left, I replied, hurrying a little so as to escape. Alfonso Frezza now spied me and promised to take me to the Wings Club , which, he said, was a very elevating club. As we approached the doorway of the club- house Herbert Upright, splendid in a uniform rich with braid, opened the door and hurled Frank Malavasic bodily down the steps. Matthew Gorinshek came sneaking out and eluded the besplendent Her- bie. Smiting his chest with doubled fists, Herbie bellowed down at the now frightened Malavasic. I've told you before not to come in here, now scrum! and hitching his pants he strode back into the clubhouse and slammed the door in their faces. He's just the doorkeeper, explained Earl Goodrich, who was sitting on the porch, exclusive is right. Wait till you get inside. Being admitted by the now pacified doorman, we went to the lounge and noticed a little knot of men on their knees, seemingly quite excited about something- Seven come eleven! purred Bob Shanley, snapping his fingers. Crap! pleaded John Spurza and Mike Pal' amar. john Skandera and William Sivak now ap' proached the group and asked to join the game but were told to go fiddle their harps. In one corner of the lounge was a great luxuri' ous couch upon which Evelyn Champion was reclinf ing, garbed in a robe of royal purple trimmed with ermine. She was smoking a cigarette in a long holder and reading a book. Ruth Nast and jane Norris stood behind her, slowly fanning her with large ostrich feather fans. Bessie Paracka approached the couch bearing a tray loaded with hamburg sand' wiches. She kneeled before Evelyn, who languidly selected a hamburg and sent the rest back to the kitchen. She's waiting for her summons into Heaven, explained james Filipski, who was standing near me. You see, she has a lot of good deeds so she is entitled to ease here and I wish I had been better on Earth. Suddenly a whistle blew and Margaret Cotter, jennie Bober, Mary Fogarty, and Ahlene Lang jumped to their feet and tore out the front door of the clubhouse. I decided to follow them to see what was up. We ran down the street and into a tiny red brick building where Henning Haugard, in conf ductor's uniform was bawling out, Heaven, Para' dise, Eden and points upward! All aboard, all aboard! No, he exclaimed, suddenly seeing me, you don't go on this train, your not even going in this direction, your name isn't on my list. Somewhat embarrassed, I watched the train out of the station and was almost run over by Harold Myers who roared into the station in an immense, low hung automobile. The train, he shouted at me, for no particular reason, It's gone, I've missed it! Four more years to wait again, and getting into his car, off he drove. My, my, exclaimed Evelyn Topper, who was standing near by, that's the sixth time he's missed that train and each time he has to wait four years before he can try again. Fifth time, contradicted Beryl Watkins, who had just run up all out of breath. 'LI know, because this is the sixth time I've missed it and he has missed it once less than I have. Well, then its your seventh time, argued Evelyn, because it's Harold Myers' sixth. I've been here everytime except the Hrst four so I should know! Leaving the two in hot argument I wandered down to the business section and stopped outside a small enclosure marked Testing Grounds, where Maynard Tansley, William Palkows ki, Martin Cchodnicky and Edward Deyo were entering. An' thony Maj stood at the entrance, punching the red card, which each one held out to him as he entered. After the little group had entered I went up and asked Tony what the place was for. Well, he said, take a look inside first and then I'll tell you about it. Looking in, I saw Catherine Panik, Catherine Opesky, Martha Burrows, Annabelle Hclmer and Jeanette Everson, dressed in spangles, doing a chorus dance on a stage while the audience gaped at them. So, said Tony, that is the Hnal test for ap- plicants for Heaven. Their blood pressure is taken before they go in and again when the show is over. If they are fit for heaven their blood pressure doesn't rise more than 20 per cent. As he finished speaking, the five who had en' tered came out, each with a little white tag tied to his ear. Tony again punched their cards, and turn' ing to me said, that white card means that they stood the test. They usually don't all pass it though. Last week William Knowles' blood pressure rose 30 per cent and Steve Malek burst a blood vessel. You see, 1t'S not easy. Thanking Tony and wondering about my ability to pass the test, I wandered over to where E.izabeth Love and Helen Smith were looking at a billboard with some interest. Glancing over their shoulders I read the following: Do you want a Dictator? How would you like to be told what to eat and wear and where to sleep and what to do? If you don't want this, vote for Frank Gryzwaczewski for Administrator and Jennie Barczak for Overseer. Next to this was another sign: Don't you want a Dictator? Wouldn't you like to be told what to eat and wear, where to sleep, and what to do? If you would like this vote for Josephine Pawelek for Dictator, Florence Bucklin for assistant dictator and Pearl Rahm for fun. Deciding I didn't care whether there was a dicf tator or not as I soon expected to be passed through Purgatory, I asked the direction of the ticket agent's office and departed for there to see how soon I could qualify for one place or the other. DONALD JONES