Mohawk High School - Mohican Yearbook (Mohawk, NY)

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fdldfly , . or THE cl.Ass or 1954 In 1941, through the haze of Indian summer, toddled a tribe of small Mohicans on their way to kindergarten. Amateurs though they were, they managed to organize a real gone rhythm band. Even at this early age, they showed promise of becoming one of the most outstanding classes in the history of Mohawk Central School. Our first six years were marked by brief and sometimes bitter encounters with readinl, writin', and 'rithmeticg but better things were yet to come as we entered the seventh grade. I Among our memories of junior High are the sting of Prof's rubber hose, the trip to Albany, ringing the bell at the old Indian Castle Church, the championship basketball team, the thrill of the Sweetheart Ball, and the nowfamusing experiences we went through in Mrs. Dickson's math classes. From exalted eighth graders, we suddenly became lowly freshmen in the fall of 1950. We were not only the new additions to the high school, it was also the first year for Mr. Robert Green, our class advisor. Mr. Green had as much imagination and foresight as he had stature. With his aid, we inaugurated many new projects which have since became traditions at Mohawk High. Among these were orchestra dances, the ParentfGuardian Club, and the March of Dimes Family Night, for which Mohawk is now famous. During our sophomore year, we concentrated on increasing our treasury through numerous dances and successful bake sales. We also profited by organizing a cloakroom at games and dances. In the fall of 1952, football was in full swing, and with it the hot dog concession which we operated. Still later that fall, we had the thrill of picking out our class rings. Spring came, and with it plans for the junior Prom. Although we started our preparations months in advance, we had to work under a handicap because we were not able to start decorating the gym until two days before the big night. When the night did arrive, everything was perfect and the prom was one that no one will forget. Then, through no fault of jour own, we became seniors and undertook all the trials and tribulations which this last year held in store for us. Again, money became our primary goal. To raise money, we sold Christmas cards, bracelets and tie pins. The problem of financing the yearbook arose, and to earn money for that project, we sponsored a Christmas Ball. It was a grand success . . . even if we did lose a few paltry dollars! Nevertheless, plans for the yearbook had to continue. Another first was planned for the students of Mohawk . . . padded covers on all yearbooks. Even if our primary goal was still to increase our class treasury, the March of Dimes could not be neglected. Two upper class homerooms joined forces for a bakefonforder bake sale fanother first j thereby raising over a hundred dollars. Now, the papooses of thirteen years ago have finished our grade and high school education and will go on to accomplish bigger and, we hope, better things. We have learned, both in the classroom and through practical experience, the value of the allfaround education we have received at Mohawk Central School. 1 I 12 LJ

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STILL REMEMBERED MIKE CATLIN Gone but not forgotten . . . that's a thought running through many a senior's mind in connection with the death of one of their classmates, Mike Catlin. Yes, gone are all the familiar pranks in Mrs. Congilaro's homeroom . . . the tacks on the seats, the misplaced books Mike had in his possession fjust by coincidence, of coursej, and all the jokes popped by this prankster upon the teacher's departure from the room. Mike was always one who spent most of his time filling out passes to this teacher and that and then never getting them signed by Mrs. Congilaro. Outside of being the clown of the class, Mike had a heart of gold. You'd always see him doing his share, whether it be taking his turn at the checkfroom during basketball games, dragging in coke cases for the refreshment committee at dances, or lending a helping hand on the cleanfup committee at the class functions. No matter what he did, he did it with a smile or joke. Since Mike's death, the homerooms of the Class of '54 have been just a little more silent. Perhaps Mike's classmates have been waiting for the door to open, and a blackfhaired, impish guy to come bobbing in. It's that way with all of Mike's classmates . . . the silent reverence, the silent tribute given to a wonderful classmate and a genuine pal. Yes, the Class of '54 offers this page as a memoriam to Michael Catlin, who, to the Class of '54, is Nor DEAD, BUT JUST AWAY.

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