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

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Another event of ' 44 was the organization of that tiny but important unit, the Carr Organ Society. It certainly deserves honorable mention. You plucky Juniors didn ' t let a thing go unnoticed. You saw to it that graduation was duly attended, and even ushered in pretty white dresses. Margaret Bromley and Ann Gulecas looked particularly nice ushering the class down the aisle. No sooner had the strains of the graduation march died away than the Juniors gathered with a squeal of delight and proclaimed, ' Now we are seniors. Seniors, SENIORS! ' Abruptly the year ended. Then once again the autumnal breezes swept into the foyer proclaiming a new year — the last and best year, 1945-46. It was a magnificent year. From the second Street Fair so ably organized by the Senior Class president, Priscilla Dorr, through the Advanced Students ' Recitals and the second Cabaret Dance, everyone had a glorious time. Of course, I noticed a good many bags under the eyes, for 1946 was a year of real hard work. How well I remember the Senior School Music students with their inevitable practice teaching and laborious scores to hand in to Mr. Findlay. YMtf ill The uproarious Senior Enslish Class laughed from September to June while M ' . Furness corned us from Chaucer to Job without batting an eye. ' Mr. B. nearly split his sides remembering how C. J. F. stalked the room with bulging eyes and a terrifying grimace making Caliban almost too real. Three new clubs were founded, the O.C.F. (Organization of Clubs and Fraternities), the Commuters ' Club, and the Veterans ' Club. For now we had come through the terrible years of war and thousands of veterans returned and stormed our gates. How odd, thought Mr. B., it is to see the male element appear again. Once more he could throw his shoulders back with pride and say, Why, yes, the orchestra is giving a hum-dinger of a concert this Fall. Sounds good, too. No one was prouder than those two intrepid artistes (and nuts) Dzlob and Very. All of the Seniors were madly working over Senior recitals — Kay Bailey ran circles around Mr. Beethoven looking for a male accompanist, and Cookie attacked the subject of Polish music. Ah, thought Mr. B., here is an item of interest. Mr. Holmes was installed as the Dean and as Vet- erans ' Counsellor. Why, here ' s Edna Mayer getting her Senior recital program checked. Ml. B. came to pages outlined with stars — the Strauss Ball, the Senior Dance; the minstrel show; Class Day, so ably produced and directed by Dick Hyatt; N.E.C. night at Pops — and before you could believe it, it was the day of graduation. Well, they ' ll soon be graduated, remarked Beethoven. Even as he spoke, a scene flashed across the page before him. Row upon row of dignified faculty — Now the black-robed Seniors marching in swaying lines — The speaker — the quiet and solemn air over everything — the black figures filing up onto the platform. A voice saying, Anderson, Bailey, Burns, on and on and on — Very, West, Wingett. Slowly Mr. Beethoven shut the ledger. Well, that ' s the end of that, cried the Seniors. No, whispered Mr. Beethoven excitedly in their ears, it ' s only fhe great beginning! — 18 —

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and announced a dance. Mr. Beethoven shook his head over the nnennory. Never was there such an affair at the Conservatory. A grand total of six couples and a few extra girls appeared and shouted to each other across the void of Brown Hall floor. Thank goodness, social life began picking up after its all-tinne slump, with the gay and colorful Street Fair. Ludwig chuckled with delight over the picture of the Street Fair and nearly fell off his pedestal. Oh, that ludicrous chorus line, composed of our six remain- ing men dressed as a Floradora Sextet — high kick and all. And little George Suprenant ' s inimitable ren- dition of ' Dear Little Buttercup ' , reducing Mr. Goding and Mr. Trueblood to a pool of tears. None the less outstanding were Scotty as M.C. and Herr Levy jovially doing the honors at the Pretiel and Beer (?) Table. A marvelous occasion! Mr. B. leafed over a few more pages and gasped with horror at the remembrance of October 6, 1943. Bag and baggage the entire dormitory was emptied to make room for the ARMY. Up and down streets and alleys the young hopefuls looked for room rent signs. Gainsborough Street was scoured from end to end until every available two-by-four was in use. Some students started commuting, some drifted down to Beacon Street, and some found temporary lodgings along Huntington Avenue. Those poor dears, thought Mr. Beethoven, trying to cram Counterpoint into heads filled with Conducting Class passed in review before him, with the ever present God of our fathers still ringing in his ears. Never let it be said that a student didn ' t bring in the trumpets at the right time. Mr. Beethoven wandered idly through the halls and passed door after door of private lesson rooms — Miller, Whitney, Pearson, Sundelius, Stevens, Goding, Keller. Those hallowed halls fairly bustled with excitement of preparing for Student Recitals, and Advanced Students. Many nice things happened that year: Mrs. Gurney and Scott Sykes both organized shows for the nearby hospitals. How well remembered were the endless rehearsals, the grease paint, and lastly, the winsome, appreciative faces of countless bed-ridden boys. Oh yes, the Conservatory Orchestra and Chorus put on a beautiful performance of STABAT MATER by Pergolesi, with a number of splendid student soloists. And then, of course, there was the famous concert with our prominent Mr. Levy superbly rendering the Beethoven Piano Concerto with the Orchestra. The first issue of the MELODIC LINE appeared, that school paper which was to have a brief an d tempestuous reign. And so the second year passed. The third September drifted into view and Mr. Beethoven remembered how sweet and fresh the air had been that Fall. Something was different. Of course, he remembered, now you had passed from the ranks of the Underclass into the distinguished rating of Junior. The dorms werei again opened and rapidly filled with a huge new Freshmen class. How many times I overheard you poor Juniors say you were beginning to feel wrinkled with age, at the advanced age of 19. The first page of the year of 1944 showed a not too pleasant sight. Our beloved friend, Dean Gib- son, became very sick and took a prolonged leave of absence. Mr. Holmes, of Wellesley and Radcliffe fame came across the river to help out. Herr Levy and Dr. VogI vacated the premises, leaving poor Mr. Beethoven the only Deutscher left. Again a gust of w ind blew over a few pages, and suddenly Mr. B. found himself just before Christmas at the Cabaret Dance, sponsored by the Junior-Senior Class. That was a great affair, with Brown Hall festively decorated with wreaths, little tables adorned with checkered tablecloths cozily placed around the room, soft lights, and a smooth orchestra. Veil, admitted Ludwig, das keeds could do it even durink var time. Der iss hope for das class of ' 46. During that Fall they decided to haze the Freshmen, a tradition which was assiduously followed to almost drastic results the following year. It was not uncommon for Mr. Beethoven to find broken eggs in the hall and non-plussed Freshies running madly around with picket signs around their necks. Ah, those poor Juniors, the guardian mused. How I pitied them trudging to observe practice teaching every cold Wednesday morning. Not a very pleasant prospect to contemplate. Mr. B. moved on. Ah, here was something memorable — the opera recitals given by Boris Goldovsky. How exciting they were, especially to the patient soloists who had worked months to perfect one scene, under Mr. Goldov- sky ' s diligent eye. One I remember with delight — John DiFrancesco and Nancy Trickey, Paul Frank and Eleanor Davis re-enacting the last act of RIgoletto . The entr ' acts by B. G. were spicy and very humorous. — 17 —

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Beethoven standing in the hall as our class guardion-ongel surely knows what the future holds for this year ' s Senior closs. But the rest of us ore no immortals and it is anybody ' s guess what will really happen, but let ' s c ive it a try anyway. Next year ' s Senior class must really be on its toes, for our own Edna Mayer has done nothing less than will one million dollars to it. (Don ' t ask us where she plans to get the million) The question is, is she one of those who con live a double li ' e by having a career and keeping the home fires burning? We expect to see her in a cotton apron every morning and donning her mauve ' every evening to sing Lord Randall before an admiring audience of former English Lit. students, Happy days! Annie Gulecas tells us she is willing her Beethoven Sonatas to anyone in next year ' s Senior Class for what they ' re worth. Just how are you going to take that Guordian, old dear? Is she referring to the oppearance or the contents? In any case there are some of us who wish we were even able to play a Beethoven Sonato. N.E.C. has o gift of a little green bottle for reeds, coming to it. Guess who? Beth Goober of course, now America ' s first hot oboe player. You will be able to hear her hitting it high on the Blue Network soon. Emma Jane West Ito be organist at Westminster Abbey and Loew s Orpheum on alternate weeks) says she wills her lucky handkerchief (what there is left of it) to sweat-out a recital. The recipient is Carr Organ Society. We at last have a solution to the Practice Room Problem. Donald Steele is leaving a duplicate key to Room 205 for B. Benedict ' s exclusive use. (Those in the class of ' 48 see Betty now. First come first served.) Here is the type of weekend you ve been waiting for. From Olivia Reeves to Ann Dilavore go weekends spent with Bach chorales and psychological research. We understand that Olivia is now top candidate for the No. 1 Konsciencious Kid of 1947. (But we still doubt that week-end story.) Kay Bailey is leaving Vive la France in all its glories to Lucy Dugas. Kay is now with the Met, hashing over the good old days with Steber. (We understand that Eleanor too, had trouble deciding how to use the ougmented 6th chord.) Lois Shaefer has a sympathetic ear to lend to next year s Counterpoint III class. She has a worried look going to waste. Line forms on the right. Lois and Janet H. are on a nation wide tour and just performed The Gypsy and the Bird for the five-hundredth time by request. They are just realizing the horrors of being a musical success and are both taking secretarial courses like mad. Eunice Fitton is leaving her reading of tenor parts ' to Catherine Ameer. (Mr. Findlay needs tenors for next yeor ' s chorus, Catherine.) As for Eunice, she is now firing the students of Higginsville H. S. with enthusiasm tor counterpoint. In fact Mrs. Mason, Mr. McKinley, and Mr. Smith have sent a telegram asking how she does it. Catherine, you have something else coming to you, you popular gal. It will be a sacrifice but at last Pris Dorr is giving up her private lessons with Mr. W. S. Smith. Study hard! And speaking of our class president, mercy, have you been in Filene ' s basement lately? It is still a wedding a week, only this time she is selling bridesmaids dresses instead of buying them. Just ask (or the Bridal Consultant! Poor Dick Webber is going to have something to live up to next year. He has been willed Arvid Anderson ' s part of Dr. Faustus from the play by that name. Arvid is doing something very original. He has founded The Anderson How-not-to-play method, with Dick Hyatt as his principal exponent. The only trouble is, it gets them into bad habits and they have to keep taking lessons to remind themselves of the right way. We ' re just hoping and praying that Cookie is going to leave that object that goes by the usual name of ' hat to someone. Sula Mekelatos seems a likely prospect. It is good for several purposes in- cluding protection against rain, to keep sun out of the left eye, for concealment of Identity before this or that class and as a friendly greeting to one s friends. Don ' t be alarmed if you are all choked up most of next year, or if you can ' t see very far in front of you. It s just that old cloud of dust that Ann V. has at last shaken off. She has left it to the person who feels he needs assistance in getting to class on time. While trying to shake off that frenzied look which attached Itself to her, she is competing with Evelyn in which they will both ploy Bach-Gounod ' s Ave Maria on a glass violin. Betty Kay is now helping Mr. Findlay prepare a concert of all Ervln Henning ' s works, assisted by Phyllis Knox, Ruth Baker, Nlcoletta Pavekos and Rose Lenclcki. These four will play Ervin ' s composition for four left hands. Clarence Noyes will be official page-turner and expects to use roller skates to get from one piano to the other. Gloria Lopardo wills her fidelity to anyone who Is in her position next year. Best wishes, Gloria! From Moscow we have the news that Miss Lokovltch (Betty Locke to you) has established a thriving musical centre In her community. One of her added attractions each year is an annual lecture by Matilda Protano on Stravinsky ' s ' Les Noces Mary Burns finally got herself a portable Hammond Organ. She and Shirley Smith are now touring South Africa, in an attempt to create an Interest in Orlando Lasso among the natives. Mary wills that super English notebook to Muriel Hebert. Janet Hayes Is willing her one-hundred or so offices to Amelia Altamarl just in case Amelia has time on her hands in her Senior year. (Janet says this is guaranteed to solve the problem.) Mary Grasso, Nina Volschak and Joy Wlngett have established the Junior New England Conservatory right across the street. The trouble is, they are proving to be stiff competition for our Alma Mater. Even Curtis IS getting worried. Yours for another glance in the tea-leaves, THE NEUME BOARD. — 19 —