New England Conservatory of Music - Neume Yearbook (Boston, MA)

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Mr. Beethoven nostalgically reached into the pocket of his flowing robe, dragged out a huge book, and wearily turned over the pages. Being the Guardian Angel of the Class of ' 46 had been no easy matter, he assured himself, and yet now that his term of office was practically over, he felt a tinge of melancholy sweeping over him. Soon it would be time to turn in the ledger, but first he would glance into the past and live again those days so crowded with memories — laughter and tears. As he bent back the stiff cover of his mighty ledger, n scene flashed across the first page — a foyer filled with woe-begone freshmen, with saddle shoes, bobby-sox, fiddles, and all manner of parapher- nalia. Well, here they are again - -the Freshmen , mused Mr. Beethoven. If only they didn ' t look so new! I can see that being the Guardian Angel of the Class of 1946 will be no easy job. Look at that funny girl in pigtails from ' down Maine . And there ' s a little kerchiefed kid from the Old Country. That ' s right — file into Mr. Porter ' s office. Aha! mused Sir Beethoven, They ' ll have ne the year is out. Now don ' t forget to see the Dean, ch Mr. Beethoven chuckled, and whispered in the startled No one can possibly miss that big sign over the Registrar ' s door. Thot s right. Here ' s where you learn to stand in line for anything and everything. But don ' t gripe, youngsters, you know how late Miss Finley and Miss Hill burn the midnight oil. ;d of the Director ' s friendship and understanding ere ildren. Hello, there. Redhead. So you ' re from Both. You know, the nicest thing about that place is the train leaving for Boston. Heh, heh! ' ' Oh, goodness — we never knew that a Dean could be so nice n informal. This certainly is an odd place. redhead ' s ear, You ' ll find out. — 15 —

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I imagine you re hungry by now. Chorlie s wott- ing downstairs just to fix you a triple decker Dog- wood with three picUes. But first you hove to look ot that foscinoting buHetin board — a cotch-all to tell you where to go and mind the baby tor SOc am hour, or when the nert Orchestra will be. Oh, that hectic first week. Sonnehow you managed to get through . . . t4ie finf- JW— M y. wfcere yoa got a Faculty Advisor and were initiated Into the mysteries of N.LC. with that fcandy SHfe blue book of rules and regulations. Guess I ' ll skip over a few pages in Time ' s ledger . . . Everyone is settled to the inevitable grind of classes and practicing. The hats echo and re-echo with scrapy sounds from a fiddle, or the ambitious screechings of a new prima de ' Hey, Patty, no one ' s sick today (dam it!] Oh, don ' t look so surprised, Freshmen. That just means they HAVE to go to all their classes today You ' ll be saying the same thing someday. ' ' Why, there ' s Lois Sdioefei Jiw i |g ii Mt| over contus firmus. and Mr. McKiidlev potkiiiriy mg that poroHel fifths (list DONT 50. Oh, heavens, I almost forgot my old friend, Warren Storey Smith. What a line im ased fs iawe gcH-ing the ' power in 310 ' — and still does! And to add to his woes he had to poke some Mane Hotary into the heads of you poor Freshmen while your stomachs were bulling oa 12 L yBn Jcii — Aose 12 o ' ' cloc classes always were uncomfortable. A tear slid down Mr. Beethoven ' s face. The inevitable had ha p p ene d. Uncle Sam was being pariicn- larly insistent and slowly but surely all his boys were waving goodbye to Um and nelnag «Mt fhe door 4o face a new kind of music — the bugle call. This Conservatory was rapidly be cowing a ladies ' seiaiwry! A gust of wind blew over a few more pages in the ledger, and wddenly if was eaam Hne. IjooI at those poor Freshmen buried in books and scores. Well, kids, you can slop w or ryin g . 1 1 pdi yon lliWM somehow — always do. Confusion and excitement of Class Day, Graduation, Consenratary night- at Pops — Ok, please go away, everybody, and let me sleep for three months. I ' m so tired of tfcb pedestal! Peace — silence — then suddenly Autumn blew hard upon the door of 290 Hmitington. Goodness, it ' s September already, i couldn ' t even finish my dream. Wei, wel, titey ' re back again, tlw Frednnen — oh, excuse me, I mean the Sophomores. And how different tt ey are now. Hiss PSgtaik is now Mas Glamour of 1943. Miss New Hampshire has taken the hayseed out of her hair and begins to tdi willi authority about Shostakovitch ' s latest symphony. I see sooae new faces, tac», bot ytm oanGdenl tiipiiii mores can ' out them wise ' as you call it. Well, let ' s see how N.LC. fared in the year of oar Lord 1943. Who oodd forget Mme KMm and her ' Heure Intime ' , where syntax was delightfdly coated with Trench joie de wiwe ' . I guess the first unique occurrence of that year was that epicarean ni nil ipii u , the Facdhy Party, beautifully planned and served by Mrs. Whitney. We all began to know the facdhy wiA their hair down — and what a revelation it was! Shortly afterward the Underclass gathered fls iluiohiiM y fcanJe forces — 16 —