Mt Zion Institute - Tusitala Yearbook (Winnsboro, SC)

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POEM With the close of our last year drawing near, We think of the past and friends so dear; We’ll remember through the years the joy we knew, The heartaches, the sorrows, and the worries, too. We’ll remember, too, as the days go by With a reminiscing smile, perhaps a sigh, The number of teachers we told “we’ll be good” And then broke our word in the spot that we stood. We’ll think of the gum under our desks, Of classwork, homework, and endless tests; And those things of great importance to all, The clubs, the dances, and basketball. Some day when we open this book and turn a page, We’ll remember the night we stood on the stage; We received our diplomas, one by one, For the homework and classwork at last were done. As we marched from the stage and through the door, We knew in our hearts we’d be coming no more; In our memories, our schooldays remain with us still, Of Mount Zion, the schoolhouse, the “Light on the Hill”. —ELIZABETH TRAYLOR. 23

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HISTORY Seniors at last . . . . The year of 1944 Ah! but to recall those by-gone days of high school life . and un-cared-for, peeped into high school—a huge building of many mysterious adventures—facing the superior upperclassmen; who plagued us with their mockery and paddle. In time, they began to accept us as human beings; their seemingly endless supply of jokes and impossibilities began to cease, and we marched through our freshman year. By 1945-46, we thought we were “IT”! Why, in the ninth grade, we were practically through with school! Little did we realize that the South Carolina State Board of Education was working behind our backs . . . This undercover job placed upon our backs the burden of another year of school, giving us the privilege of being the first class to go through the twelfth grade! The ninth grade also gave us a chance at club life and the wonderful idea of serving at the traditional Junior-Senior Banquet. Those of us who served will always remember the Hawaiian skirts, bare feet, broken dishes and the task of eating all we could hold. In 1946-47 we became so-called juniors and this year was one of many important events. Our hands waving in the air with one finger thrust out was the answer to the most important of these. Our class rings had come and were we excited! Late winter brought with it the Junior play try-outs—then the long hours of rehearsals for our first display of class talent. “High Pressure Homer” came through with honors making us financially able to give the seniors the best Junior-Senior ever presented, so we thought. Our supposedly senior year, there was a question before us—were we juniors or seniors for two years? Anyway, we knew for sure, we were seniors in ’49. We again proved ourselves with the “Foolproof Murder”, our first Senior class play. History was made this year when, defeated only once, the Wildcats won over our old rival—Olympia. Seniors at last . . . Our school life continued to be a rush—club meetings, athletics, and most important Senior Class meetings to settle issues so important to seniors. We could hardly realize that the time had come to produce our Tusitala. Completing the work on the annual we looked forward to our second and biggest Senior play, which helped make the annual possible. Senior activities, climaxed by our Junior-Senior, brought the realization that our high school days were nearing an end. Our last days at Mount Zion were never-to-be-forgotten. 'All the things that make a high school graduation wonderful were part of them. And now looking back, we see our most wonderful days were our High School days; and looking forward, we have great expectations for the future. As we leave Mount Zion, we know that it will always remain in our memories as we travel life’s pathway. —TWEEDIE TIMMS, 22

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CLASS It was a fall day in 1969 that I boarded the Washington, D. C.-Winnsboro Super Helicopter, At last I had gotten away from my pressing duties at the White House long enough to see the annual Mt. Zion-Chester football game. Just as the helicopter was loading up I bought a paper from the airport’s newsstand, which was run by Tat Boulware and Lawrence Poston, and then hurried to my seat on the plane. As I began to read “The News and Herald”, and now the leading daily of the South, edited by Elizabeth Traylor, I was startled by the familiar voice of John Gibson at my elbow. John, who is now a French professor at Harvard University, was also going to Winnsboro, and we began to talk of old times at high school. John told me that Ted Woodward was playing the role of “Hamlet” in Boston that fall, and that Bettysue Brabham was a leading opera singer in New England. He seemed surprised when I told him that Merlyn Coofer was a fashion model in Washington. When I returned to my paper and the sports section, I read the column “Lookin’ Out From Under the Bleachers”, by “Stick” Herndon, sports editor. His article was mostly about the approaching game, and it reported that Chester had a strong team coached by none other than Grady Branham. On turning the page, I found an article on the new Cannon Molecular Theory, which was proposed by the nationally known physicist, Mary Babb Cannon. As I was just recovering from the shock of my latest knowledge and was just reading of the wedding of Miss Tweedie Timms to a famous movie star, our helicopter gave a sudden lurch and landed right-side-up at the Richmond, Va. airport. The hostesses A Hie McFadden and Betty Surratt explained that Albert Edenfield our pilot, had forgotten to put in any gas. While our plane was filling up Albert told me that his sister, Pearl Edenfield, was now the head matron at the Mooney-Looney Rest Home in California. Soon 1 saw the big industrialist, Clifford Powell, at the airport. He had come to meet his European agent for Powell Perpetual Motion Machines, Simmy Ply lev. The airship was almost up in the air again when we were stopped by a plump lady, her runt of a husband, and five kids who were also going to Winnsboro. When we took them on board I was surprised to find that the very stout lady was Dinny McMaster. Dinnv told me that Fuggy Boulware Hofstaser lived near her in Virginia. Puggy it seems was married to a millionaire and employed Earline Varnadore as a governess for her two sons. Ten minutes after we left Richmond, our helicopter was sailing over the North Caro- lina countryside, and I turned on my portable radio to hear “Joyce Bass Speaks”. Instead all I could get was two stations going at once (FM had gone out of style back in 1956) and could hear Mme. LaVerne Geddings de La Grande, the famous singer mixed in with the Killette Razor Sports’ announcer, Jerry Bennett. To hear their voices at the same time reminded me of our classes together at the Institute. I guess everything is different at Mt. Zion now since Dr. Alan Sheddy Ph.D,, is superintendent, and Miss Beck Starnes is principal. Bonnie Sue Pate, another helicopter hostess, made me cut off my radio since it disturbed the famous painter, Madame Betty Enloe von Frankfurter, who was at work on board our ship. The helicopter, in another fifteen minutes, was over Fairfield County and a large building was below us, with big red letters on top: KIRKPATRICK STOCKYARDS. No doubt Bennett is still “shootin’ the bull”. When we landed a big brass band was on hand I soon found out that the band, under the direction of Walter Taylor, had mixed our helicopter with that of Governor Revonne Hunt, and his staff, which was due shortly from the new State House at Ridgeway. Among Governor Hunt’s party was to be the new head of the state penitentiary, Gene Pate, and the Speaker of the House, Luther Gunter. 24 “If you can look And say which grain will grow