Loyola University - Wolf Yearbook (New Orleans, LA)

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Summer is steaming in again, and Loyolans are slowly packing away me- mentos of a year quickly gone by. Into the trunk go fraternity beer mugs, faded sweatshirts and old term papers which might, someday, come in handy. But the most important things from a year at college can ' t be stowed in a brass-bound trunk: the friends you made, the knowledge you acquired— memories these are with you always. It has been a tiring year, crammed with Greek rush, basketball games and Talent Nite rehearsals. There were the hours of study for final exams and hours of just sitting in the Student Center. For each Loyo- lan, the year will have produced dif- ferent memories: the year you pledged APO or the year you finally passed Math 1 1 2 or the year you earned a degree and a class ring. It is the job of The Wolf Staff to put into 352 pages all the memorable moments of the past year. This is the permanent record which will help you to relive for a few moments all the rush, worry, laughter and tears that made 1964-65. WOLF NINETEEN HUNDRED SIXTY-FIVE LOYOLA UNIVERSITY NEW ORLEANS Ardley R. Hanemann Jr Editor Will Peneguy Business Manager

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THE CH A hundred brilliant colors woven together-an Indian madras; thousands of different students bound together— Loyola ' s campus. But there is no definite pattern, just one common goal, and like madras, Loyolans are guaranteed to bleed in its pursuit. Eager students from all over the continent running as it seems through a maze, finally find the straight way clear ahead, and convene as one on this campus. They come from the prep schools of the East, from the junior colleges of the West, from Catholic and public schools, from south of the border and from lands separated from us by water and customs. But they come and they join together not forgetting the thought of their home, but starting the tradition of a new life. The first Loyolans got off the St. Charles Avenue streetcar 53 years ago. The streetcar is the same; the students and their university are not. With each year and timid plebe the face of Loyola is changing; the madras is bleeding; the osmosis is indeed subtle, but its effect— permanent. With each year the university is re-born. The old mingles with the fresh blood; the ambition and the vitality of new youth keeps it fresh, alive, apace with the chang- ing needs of the age we live in. There remains no chance to stalemate. And with each new year the university grows. Her students no longer are but the inhabitants of a small plot of ground on St. Charles Avenue. They learn, they experiment, they fail, but they rise and try again and they succeed. They are the new generation, the hope and the promise of a greater future. The individual colors are beautiful, but the plaid is rich. With each rush party, each basketball victory, each hour spent on the library steps, the university grows. With each freshman beanie, each tear and drop, of sweat that fall, the madras bleeds. A new washing, a new blend, a new hue, a changing Loyola.