North Carolina School for the Deaf - Clock Tower Yearbook (Morganton, NC)

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Class Prophecy By GERALD WINSTEAD Lazily stretched out on the lawn of our front campus one warm May afternoon I sadly watched the big hands on the Goodwin Memorial Clock pushing the hours behind. Just a few days more in the North Carolina Schoo! for the Deaf! I dreamily wondered what the future he!d in store for me and my classmates. Gee, how the years have slipped by. Here I am at the Greater New York Exposition of 1960. I missed the World’s Fair in 1940, but I am seeing far more wonderful sights at this huge exposition. How I wish all my classmates were here to see the sights with me! I am a bit lone- some and wish my wife and two sons were here with me, but my wife insisted that I take my vacation alone. I have been working hard and steadily these last two years in my new printing establishment after resigning from the Wilson Daily Times. Well, I think Ill go into the General Motors building and see their new Diesel-powered cars. But who is that big mechanic over there tinkering with an auto- mobile? I can hardly believe my eyes—it is Kremer Phillips! I surely was glad to see him. Kremer said he had a good job with General Motors and that he had a nice little home in the suburbs of Detroit. He was very eager to get home to his wife and five children. That night as Kremer and I were taking in the exhibit we were pushed aside by a police esccrt of a famous Englishman and his wife. I pinched myself—the lady was Beulah Storie. Beulah stopped and intreduced her husband to us. He had met her in Blowing Rock and had married her after a whirlwind of courtship. A crowd of autograph seekers put an abrupt end to our conversation. : It was nearly midnight, so Kremer and I decided to stop in at an attractive restaurant and get a bite to eat. A red headed waiter slapped me on the back. Kremer laughed at my surprise. The waiter was my old classmate, Zeb Austin. Zeb told me that his wife was running his cafe- teria in Morganton while he was working at the exposition. He was very busy and could talk only a few minutes with us. The next morning I noticed a familiar blonde head coming out of the beauty culture exhibit. What a pleasant surprise to see Milderd Daniels again. The years had been kind to Mildred—or perhaps the beauty culture—for she looked no older than when I last saw her. I noticed a tell-tale golden band on the third finger of her left hand, but Mildred refused to tell me the name of her husband. I asked her to supper and a show that night. She told me that John Whise- nant had a good position in a swanky tailor shop. I resolved to look him up while I was in New York. The next . I paid John a surprise visit. We chatted for a long time. John proudly showed me some of the suits he had made. I congratu- ated him, for John had been most successful in is work. However, he was still a bachelor. He dently told me that he was eager to get but that he had nevergotten up enough connc married, nerve to propose On my way peer to the exposition grounds I almost fell over a couple sitting on a park bench. I rubbed my eyes! It was Vernon Quarles and a very pretty young lady. They both grinned sheepishly—newly weds always do. Vernon told me that he was on his honeymoon. He and his little blonde bride had been to Niagara Falls and were taking in the Exposition before returning to Asheville. Vernon was making good on the Ashe- ville Citizen after retiring from professional baseball. He had pitched five seasons for the Ashoville Tourists. Vernon’s wife told me to be sure to come out to West Asheville and see their cute bungalow the next time I visited the western part of the state. feat © On my last afternoon at the Exposition I spent quite a while taking in the North Caro- lina exhibit. Many people were crowded around the Cherokee Indian village. The Indians were having an archery contest. I pushed my way into

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1. Carolina Beach. 2. Fun at Perkins’ Farm. 3. “Big Game” Hunters. 4. The “Cullowhee Crasher.” 5. In a Pensive Mosd. 6. 1938 Foestball Squad. 7. The “Fair Section” of the Class. 8. Protesting Tight Ties. 9. The “Professor” Caught Off Guard. 10. The Class Prexy. 11. Goodwin Hall Days. 12. Campus Sheik. 13. Strenuous Camp Life. 14. Imbibing at Clearwater Beach. 15. Beginner’s Shop

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the crowd to get a better view. One hooked nose Indian was thrilling the crowd with his uncanny shots. I kept staring at the Indian. Where had I seen him before? Then the Cherokee missed a shot and nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. You guessed it! The Cherokee was no other than my old friend, Andrew Collins. After the crowd had drifted away I held on to my scalp and entered the village. Andrew’s surprise at seeing me was as great as my own when I first saw him. It seems that Andrew’s grandfather had left him a huge tract of land in western North Carolina, and Andrew was in New York drumming up trad2 for his tourist hotel, the Cherokee Inn. I asked Andrew if he had heard anything about Mr. Alexander since the war ended. He told me that Mr. Alexander had re- signed from the British Navy after the Allies had completely crushed Hitler and Stalin, and that he was back-at' N. Cys. Dateachingmine Senior Class again. I also asked about Roy Norton. Andrew said that he saw Roy quite often. They went bear hunting every fall. Roy was a successful farmer and specialized in apple raising—he also was raising four little red- heads. That night I was worn out from so much walking and sight-seeing. I stretched out on a big park bench and lazily watched the play of colored lights on a spouting fountain. I felt a sharp pain in my side. The fountain began to fade and a dazzling white light hurt my eyes. My, it was broad daylight! That tower and clock up there look familiar. Why, it is the Memorial Clock! Mr. Paul Crutchfield is impolitely sticking his foot into my side and telling me to hurry up and get into line for supper. What a dream! Boys’ TRADES BUILDING