Montclair State College - La Campana Yearbook (Upper Montclair, NJ)

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JUNIOR RED CROSS FOR 1919 Montclair Normal School is justly proud of its activities in Junior Red Cross work. The class of 1920 has followed the example set by former classes and has donated generously to all Red Cross drives. The following articles have been knitted since September, 1918: 47 sweaters, 3 scarfs, 4 wristlets, 18 childrens ' garments, 151 socks. The schools of Montclair donated $1,700 to the Junior Red Cross. This money is being used in equipping a school at St. Christophe, France. The barracks where this school is held were donated by the French Government, but the children of Mont- clair are supplying everything else — even the salary of the teacher. We are glad to have had a part in this wonderful work. This year we were the first school to go over the top in the Red Cross drive. At twelve o ' clock one day it was announced that the drive would open the following morning. As soon as a class had one hundred per cent, it was to enter its name upon the blackboard in chapel. What a story that blackboard would tell if it could talk! What sights it beheld before the sun was up ! But the dorm girls can talk, and they can tell — each with added color — just what happened. About 5 :30 A. Af . a Senior B hurried to school, crept to the side door, nearly frightened the watchman out of a year ' s growth, marched proudly to chapel, wrote her class in large letters, tripped home again, and went back to bed until morning. The Juniors, however, were wiser. They knew that in order to meet their heavy daily burdens, they must not loose a moment ' s sleep ; so their names appeared farther down the list. But to tell the whole story ! At 9 :io that morning we had a record of one hundred per cent. It is a record of which any school might be proud. It is our fondest hope that the classes which follow us will ca rry on this work which former classes intrusted to 1920.

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ii:oo. Senior B I ' meanders merrily into Alath. to hear Daddy Stone eluci- date the way to escape being a ' stiff, stubborn, skinny, stupid, school marm. ' ' 11.45. The halls resound with loud aownward-crashmg footsteps as girls dash for first place in the luncheon line. The doim girls scramble madly for the mail and romp into the mess hall where they are gieeted by the daily hash. Ev Bennett marathons through the meal to the prunes and hurries upstairs to finish that awful reading lesson plan. ' 12:30. After limch kindergarten Senior B ' s assemble with Aliss McKinley and sounds of light head tones ' ' issue forth. At the same time thunderous echoes pour from the gym. Here Senior B III is engaged in a game of basketball baseball, and Mar- garet Smith ties herself in a knot making a home run. 2 140. The mob takes the library by storm and sallies forth with an armful of books lawfully or unlawfully procured. 3 ;oo. A home run begins. The Valley Road car lumbers along with its East Orange load. At the same time the bus makes sixty miles an hour (15 miles in each direction) towards Paterson. The inmates of Eddie Russ return to their domicile. 5 :oo. Ella, the lamplighter of the dorm, does her duty. 5 130. A new chorus takes place. What are you going to wear to dinner, Dot? Lend me a waist. Kitten? ' ho has some shoe polish? There goes a rim in my stocking. (iNIany will recognize this as coming from room 213.) Hurried dressing continues until 6:co. The welcome dinner bell sounds. A discussion arises at each table as to whose turn it is to serve. The Knockers Club is again on hand. 6:10. Martha Brown enters the dining room asking excitedly. Alay I have something to eat? The Newark bus was late! While the second course is approach- ing Alarjorie Berdan is called to the phone where she carries on a rather lengthy conversation. She returns to find her tabl -mates gone and she must finish her wiggle pudding in solitude. Immediately after dinner Esther goes to her room to write the daily letter. 6 130-7 130. Hilda Smyth and Marion Robbins take turns tickling the ivories for the others to dance. A group of seven repair to one corner of the living room to indulge in a quiet little game of Pit. much to the disgust of Evelyn Taylor, who tries to finish a book for her geography report. 7 130-9 145. Study hour. No sound is heard except the rustling of magazine pages, the crunching of saltines, loud laughter and the buzz of animated conversation. 9 :45. The ever hungry prowl about the corridors trying to scent food, begins. Betty Madden produces the muffin she scorned at luncheon and devours it with a relish. With a swish of kimonos and a patter of slippered feet, the favored ones hurry in the direction of a feed. 10:15. The halls are plunged in darkness and giggles are suppressed until Mrs. Genin descends the stairs. 10:16. Heads appear at every door and the late tooth brush procession begins to take place. 10:20. Emmy and Esther miss their bed clothes which have mysteriouslv disap- peared. At t ' e s?me time a shriek comes from across the hall as Helen Rochelle strikes nut shells in the bottom of her bed ! 10:30. .Sonorous sno -es fill the h l ' s 10.J.5. The r ' CT ' -t h- ' ivks ret ' irn to the ' r rooms. II :oo. Pettv ' s clock is still ticking lordly all set for 6:15. 11:30. Silence reigns in Edward Russ Hall. Helen Astfalk. Emily Allen.

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FLY INN UNIT ARMERETTES ' Homes, sang out the bus driver as the big, lumbering Pater- son-Bloomfield bus stopped outside a house in Richfield. Every one inside y the bus began to scramble out as quickly as possible to view her prospective camp. The sentiments of the girls were expressed by several characteristic exclama- tions : Good night, is this the place? Look at the windmills! Are the people Dutch? Smothering kittens, what ' s coming? We looked down the road, and saw a big truck approaching, loaded with furni- ture. iMovin ' day, surmised one. Where ' s it going, anyway? as the truck turned up our driveway. Let ' s go see. I bet it ' s ours. So saying, we hurried up to the house. We were met by the driver of the truck, and a woman who turned out to be our next door neighbor. Are youse de farmerettes? asked the driver. That we are, said Helen Cozier stepping to the front. A ' ell, dis is your foiniture. Oh, it is, is it? Thanks, inuch obliged. How do we get in? This from a chorus. Here ' s the key, said our next door neighbor, handing one to Alice Briggs. Open her up, Al, said Margaret Falconer eagerly. What a sight met our horrified eyes ! Desolation stared us in the face. Dirt and dust lay thick on everything. After we had recovered a little, we helped the man in with the furniture and then proceeded to clean house. Our uniforms having arrived, we thought we would initiate them by wearing them for the first job. With much laughter and a helping hand here and there, we finally got into them, and stood ofif to observe the wonderful effect. We borrowed rags and a broom and scoured that house from top to bottom. Many hands made light work of our task, and soon a livable house presented itself before our approving eyes. Ellen Kaveny, weary from her unaccustomed labor, leaned against one of the walls to rest when some one called her upstairs. She started to go, but, alas, she stuck fast. We finally extricated her, and after that we were careful to keep our distance from those walls. We examined our furniture, and found that we had bureaus, chairs, army cots, lamps and tables, but no stove. However, we decided not to let a little thing like that worry us and began to set up the cots, and arrange the other articles to suit out taste. By that time the supervisor arrived — and the cook. The latter, a stout red- faced Irish woman, came puffing up the stairs and dropped down on a cot which squeaked its protest. Merciful Hivins, fhat ' s this I ' m a settin ' on, a hammick? she gasped as the cot began to sink to the floor under her ponderous weight. No, it ' s an army cot, said the supervisor calmly, yet with a face twitching with suppressed mirth. Is this all a body ' s got to slape on, may I ask? Why yes, I ' m afraid so, ' ' replied the .supervisor. Well, I ' d niver trust mesilf on the likes of thim for a minute. Why I ' d be slap- ing on the floor in no time. And where is your kitchen? Is this it? My gracious, 31