Milton Academy - Yearbook (Milton, MA)

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Memories, it is rumored, are all that may remain of the old Robbins House in a few years, and may- be it's a good thing, for they seem to be the only force holding the hallowed building together at this moment. At any rate, the class of '59 has bequeathed its share to the grand heritage, and, while taking a short tour of the house, one may easily see it in the making. Quietly dodging the corridor athletics that are in progress, observed aloofly by Al Zobel, and under the able supervision of that genial master of fun and frolic, Harold Weed, one is safely established in the First Class Corridor. The sound of intermittent cheering emanates from the direction of the piggy pen, and upon sidestepping Rob Smith's afternoon stockpile of food, and opening the door, messieurs Butler, Lehman, and Ames, D. instantly greet one with a loud chorus of shhhhhh etc. It must be another close athletic contest. The sound of a running shower draws one into the bathroom, where Fuzzy Ames is energetically doing pull ups on the pipes, and Hobie Tope is quietly taking his final shower of the day. Don Cummings is changing razor blades for his before bed shave, and a few cynical remarks, coming from the corner of the room, firmly establish Brown's location. Sounds of laughter from the jungle indicate that Stevo Parker is, once again, wildly telling a story to the muscle bound ears of Thaxter, Harkness, and Fine. The only other noises are the conflicting rhythms of Daddy Cool and The Music of Chet Bakerf' Finally ending up in the Head Monitor's room, as most everything does, one sees Puss Kinnicutt and Timbo Taylor over in a corner. All that is heard is an exasperated no Keeny that expresses a great deal to experienced ears. The monitor's room slowly fills up, and before long, the usual evening bull session is in full swing. With loving memory, the boys recall the two masters who have since gone to their rewards. In two quick years, it seems that the high points of Bucky Harrison's teaching career were the Thundering Herd and a circular deposit of Karo syrup. Although mystery and legend surround Mr. Lloyd Urdahl's first year Cconga lines, bird dog rallies, etc.J, it is certain that his departure at the end of his second year was viewed with a great deal of regret. Of course the more obvious eccentricities of the present regime were not overlooked. For who could forget the what seems to be the trouble here? of Mr. Hawkins, or the white sock prepiness of Mr. Marr? Of course the changing moods and flashing forks of Mr. Millet and the battle cry of our leader, Mr. Hall, in the eternal fight against Har- vard, professional athletics, and the Little League menace, will be permanently etched in the minds of all. Suddenly a creaking door and a measured footstep announce the well-timed arrival of our pedantic housemaster, Mr. Daley. Leaving us with a few sesquipedalian words, he disperses the session with a sweep of his well manicured hand. The Robbins House Christmas skit. The Common Room after dinner I 9 f