Lowell Technological Institute - Pickout Yearbook (Lowell, MA)

Page 18 text:

surpassed Ma Swanson’s by far. There was the task of hazing a new Freshman class, which was attacked gleefully — the task and the class. The standard Frosh re- tort was a growled — Wait until Field Day” — at which time the lower classmen royally trounced their tormentors. New studies were added — courses in loafing behind the cotton pickers, how to bathe your dog in a scouring bowl, the art of avoiding flying shuttles, one year in a desiccator (or how dry I am), leg work in the field of nylon, the mathematical prob- ability of filling an inside straight, and how to avoid cigar fumes during lectures in the seminar room. The organizations around the Institute began to grow. A dance band was formed — glee clubs were started — a rifle team shot up — a swim club was organized — and Limey” Lowe hegan a one-man ram- page to establish an Alcoholics Anony- mous chapter at the Institute, to the dis- may of lower Moody Street. The fact that John loved Mary was es- tablished on the night that the Textile Players presented their annual show. The formal afterward proved John to be a big- amist, however, as he was definitely Mari- lyn’s property. And so, another school year drew to a close, and yells of — See you in Septem- ber” were resounding in the hallowed halls of Lowell Textile. One of our first thoughts upon return- ing in September was — Am I seeing double?” For, during the summer, a sec- ond dormitory was completed, equipped [ 14 ]

Page 17 text:

Memories — memories — memories of years gone by, H e will leai ' e Loivell and then — return again. For thoughts of an Alma Mater never die. I T is often said that college days are to be forever cherished in memory as they are the happiest times in one’s life. Al- though we, as students, may scoff and scorn and make derogatory remarks about the above statement, we all do admit that, if our four years at Textile have given us any permanent impression, included in that impression are recollections of special interest and significance to us because we were part of their making. As we go on to a different phase of our careers, these re- membrances will fade and gradually be forgotten until a class reunion brings them back to mind. As most of the graduates of Textile are widely spread throughout the industry, it is seldom that these reunions occur. Therefore, in order to facilitate jog- ging the graduates’ memory, this book was designed to recall at a glance the eventful four years of the past. It is our sincere hope that this purpose will be fulfilled. The beginning of a new era as the col- lege student was a never-to-be-forg otten period. For some, it meant the return to civilian life and the struggle to acclimate oneself to the chore of studying. For others, it was the break away from disciplined homes and high school life and environ- ments. For all, it entailed the task of sett- ling down to the business of passing quizzes, writing lab reports, and getting H’s. Can any Freshman ever forget Monday mor- nings, at 8:30, when Professor Dow un- leashed a verbal barrage of grammar at the poor, weary, bemoaning hangover head’’? And from there to a scintillating lecture on the virtues of the epileptic” gear trains. Then, for a Survey of Textiles” lecture in the Hall, with Gossypium barbadense com- peting with a five-handed poker game in the rear seats, complete with kibitzers. There was work, but there were also compensations which more than justified the efforts. Upstream Day rolled around and with it came an exodus of students to Canobie Lake. It was on this occasion that one professor was literally caught with his pants down” as a result of a strenuous effort on his part to make a home run during the student-faculty baseball game. Through it all, his cigar remained in its usual position, oddly enough. There was a frenzied dash for the Tex- tile Bridge when exam time drew near, but this desire to get it over with was soon overcome by the beckoning ’social clubs,’ whose measures, although less drastic than those of the bridge, accomplished the same end results. Return to Textile in the fall saw many changes. There was now a dormitory haven for the homeless and a cafeteria which [ 13 ]

Page 19 text:

with a snack bar, lounge, fireplace — which was immediately tried out, and, as a result, dormitory residents were forced to sleep on the front lawn or run the risk of being choked in their rooms — ping- pong tables, upon which Albert Levenson began his reign as champion, and all efforts to have that sport become a letter one at Textile failed due to the refusal of partici- pants to purchase their own balls — and last, a piano upon which virtuosos prac- ticed diligently. Football season came ’round, and the crowds gathering at Memorial Stadium brought blankets, wives, girls, and plenty of spirit . . . school spirit, that is, made in our own Chemistry labs. Lucky” could be heard mumbling Oom beef stew” as he wandered about the corridors, with Lenny following closely behind trying to memo- rize the words. He finally succeeded too and will render his version upon request. The cafeteria was deserted — no one could be found in the dorms — classrooms were vacant — the time was 11:30 on a Wednesday. Where was everyone, did you ask? No, it was not vacation time — it was convocation time, and everyone who could walk or crawl was in Southwick Hall. The attendance even surpassed the Xmas convocations. Have you guessed the reason yet? Think logically. What would lure 600 male students to a convo- cation during lunch hour? There is only one answer — women! This was the day of the fashion show, which was sponsored by Professor Rosatto of the Design De- partment and, being gentlemen, the male students could not refuse her invitation to attend, especially as there were to be pres- ent about two dozen models, wearing assorted fashions including bathing suits, street dresses, and evening wear. The two young ladies who stole the show were about four years old and were both well versed in the feminine art of flirting. There was a unanimous vote after the show that more of these convocations be held to familiarize the student with the latest textile numbers, including those of the Bell Telephone Company. We nearly lost one of the Text staff members during that organization’s annual banquet, which was held in Salem. This fair -haired boy decided to exhibit his mus- cular ability by engaging in the sport of rowing, at which he waS not very adept, being neither a Navy man nor a Central Park habitue. After losing one oar, he was forced to resort to rowing canoe style; con- sequently, he soon lost the other oar. Im- mediately, Peter formed a rescue squad and saved the day amid cheers from the pier. Rumors were flying — everyone imagin- able was listed as a suspect — suspected of what? Why, of being Barry Drumgoole. No secret was sacred if Barry got wind of it, and after several of his columns ap- peared in the School paper, the editors were forced to hire an armed guard to pro- tect their reporter. Now, for the first time, his identity can be revealed — Barry had a double identity, one of the pair hiding behind an accordion. [15]