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

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Class Will Q We, the Senior Class of the North Caroli na School for the Deaf, in the year one thousand nine hundred and fifty, after twelve long years of work and play, find that our school life has come to an end. Therefore we do hereby declare this to be our last will and testament. To our Alma Mater, our beloved home in many ways, we leave our heartfelt gratitude for knowledge, fun and fellowship. To our superintendent, principal, the board members, the household staff, the assistant principals and the teachers, we leave our thanks for what they have done for us, our promise that we shall always try to live in such a way as to reflect credit on our Alma Mater, and our best wishes for their continued success in the future. To our home room teacher, Mrs. Triebert, we leave our love for her willingness always to help us and for her patience with us. To the Junior Class, we leave our responsi- bility for the canteen with the hope that they will be sucessful in operating it. We also leave them our classroom, a set of text books, and all the joys and headaches that go with being a senior. To Bessie Womack, Wilma Lance bequeaths her love for mimicking. To Richard Absher, Buford Pressley leaves his love of argument. To Donald Hall, Wayne Hilton leaves his love for sports and women. Malcolm Scoggins leaves the job as editor of “The Clock Tower” to anyone unwary enough to take it. To Hilda Honeycutt, Evelyn Michael leaves her loads of books and comics. Edna Riddle is always late and yet, wonder- fully, she never gets into hot water for the trait. This ability she leaves to Dorothy Casey and hopes she will be able to do likewise. Dorothy Morrison leaves her fondness for eating at all times to Margaret Routh, but she hopes that Margaret will be more careful—or she will be sorry! To Earl Moore, Herbert Capes bequeaths his love of modeling airplanes and his expectation that Earl will invent a new kind of airplane. Wayne Hilton leaves his excuses for studying to Betty Barber. Evelyn Michael’s dislike for history she leaves to Doris Hardison. To Clyde Morton, Herbert Capes’ interest in Boy Scout work is willed. Edna Riddle’s love for flirting she leaves to Colleen McKinney. Dorothy Morrison’s responibilities and “wor- ries’ are handed down to Ruby Anders with the hope that she will learn not to accept too much work. To Ann Dykes, Wilma Lance leaves her fond- ness for stylish clothing and hopes Ann will live up to her record and win the boys’ hearts. Buford Pressley’s and Malcolm Scoggins’ fondness for going to the hospital, visiting the girls and the nurse, is willed to Richard Absher and they hope he will keep their path to the hospital worn bare. Desiring to leave behind the things which we cannot take with us, we do hereby sign this last will and testament. Signed by Class of 1950: not Witnesses: Mrs. Triebert Mr. Stack

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Her hairdressing salon is one of the best in the world and she is also a leading hair stylist. I'd learned that from a recent article in Vogwe Just this spring. I enjoyed thinking for a few minutes about Evelyn’s success but was still drowsy and began dozing off again. Suddenly something aroused me and I woke up with a start. It was the smell of something burn- ing which woke me from my day dreams. I wondered what it could be. It was coming from the direction in which Dorothy Morrison and her family lived. (It’s nice that she lives nearby and I was just hoping that this burning smell didn’t mean that she had burnt one of her famous apple pies again! ) I decided that I should drop by Dot’s in the hope of something good to eat, for she was a marvelous cook. It was getting late in the afternoon and a piece of her pie would just hit the spot after a light lunch. I wanted, too, to tell her the creek’s story of some of our classmates. Another time we might both go to- gether and hear it tell us of the present life of others. I wondered why it didn’t tell me about Edna Riddle, Malcolm Scoggins, and Buford Pressley. Well, maybe Dot would know. (Dot has a cute little ranch-style house and the loveliest children—all red-headed! ) Dot was at home and she and I sat down for a snack in the patio. I started to tell her of the enjoyable dream-story of the creek but she ex- citedly interrupted my story to tell me about Buford’s and Edna’s latest adventures. Dot had read all about them in her old home-town paper to which she still subscribes. It seems that Buford is always in the midst of excitement since he has become a deputy sheriff up in the hills of Western North Carolina. Recently he captured a big still and it exploded just after he started a chase after the owners. What a lucky escape! Dot also showed me another very interesting bit of news she had cut from the Durham Herald about Edna Riddle. The article said that Edna was the outstanding woman in the Home Demon- stration groups from Eastern North Carolina. Her canning, preserving and pickling accomplish- ments were so fine that the great Waldorf Astoria Hotel had sent down to St. Pauls to ask to buy some of her-strawberry preserves and cucumber pickles! Now she has a standing offer from the hotel to buy all of these that she can send them. On top of all that work Edna’s quilting wins prizes at the State Fair in Raleigh every year. Dot and I wondered if she had begun her success story back in our Home Economics kitchen in the old shop building. Then after Dot had given me news from Durham, she brought out a copy of a new magazine, Photographers’ Review. Right inside was a large picture smiling at us. My astonished eyes beheld Malcolm Scoggins—“Old Mal.” I read the article about him and learned that he had become a professional photographer and often made pictures of leading models for the fashion magazines. I was glad to know that he worked for himself. “At least he does not have to worry about the boss’ firing him for his old habit of procrastination,” I thought to myself. And this article praised his work highly. The sun had already set as I took my leave of Dot. We both had warm glows in our hearts from the recollection of the “good old days” and were sorry, really, to come back to the present.

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