Northrop Collegiate School - Tatler Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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aha agmphetg at the Cllasa of 15 June 8, I925; ten long years since our graduation from Graham! With the anniversary comes a longing for a glimpse into the lives of the girls, so closely bound tO' gether by the ties of school and class. I had in my possession a rug from Bagdad, said to possess magical powers. I seated myself upon it and murmured the incantation that should free the genii. Kathryn Pierce was first suggested to me. In a trice I was put down in a smoky city, where the noise of roaring trams mingled with the rumble of the subway, and the elevated uK had evidently returned to the place of her dreams-C-hicago. Invisible hands led me to a huge apartment building overlooking a beautiful park, where crowds were coming and going. As I wandered in, I heard many asking for Miss Pierce. Few were permitted to appear before that august individual. If IIelothes make the man, they were a distinguished number. Minging with them, I came to a door, out- side of which stood a person of business-like appearance, who admitted some and turned away others. Secretaries and other important functionaries met me as I arrived at my goal. The trials of a popular authoress had not perceptibly changed K for as each visitor advanced, she quietly received his proposition, accepted or refused it, and turned to her dictation. I could have addressed her but my guardian prevented. The lights faded. I feared to break the spell. Then I murmured IIPete. My genii recognized the nickname. In a moment I dropped into a seat, in a large auditorium filled with an expectant audience. On the program of a woman next to me, I read: HMiss Helen Stair, Dramatic Soprano; Miss Elizabeth Boutelle, Celebrated Pianist; Miss Ruth Towle, World-Famed Violinist. A distinguished group! The curtain arose revealing a grand piano and a draped doorway. The three en- tered! Ruth was nearly the same, but Betty had: actually become placid in her calmness and Pete, was positively stout! Words cannot describe the perfection of that trio. All too soon my guardian whisked me to another land. Tow, I was in Arabia. Which classmate would appear in that far off land? In the distance I spied a swiftly approaching band of horsemen. At the head of the com- pany I saw a diminutive form, perched on a beautiful Arabian horse. You never would have guessed it, of course, but as the horses came galloping along, I recognized 'happy-go- lucky tsometimesD Gay! I would have given much to discover whether or no her search for Arabian thoroughebreds had been successful, but waving an unseen goodi-bye, I came swiftly to earth dodging hundreds of tennis balls coming at terrific speed. It was a tennis tournament! I scanned each face to find familiar features. All the players were girls of our age at graduation. I saw, then, an athletic figure walking around the courts, criticizing and suggesting. Each recipient of advice appeared greatly honored. Tennis and Stub Curtiss were synonymous in I915. Marjorie was almost unchanged. The dignity of her title, IIPresident of the Womtan,s Athletic Clubs of America, seemed not to have feazed her. But I was getting in the way of Hying halls and beyond harm,s reach I was hurried on. I found myself in the halls of a girls, school. I realized that it was Graham Hall, but differently located. The buildings were new and spacious, with broad halls and well-arranged class rooms. I missed the scramble for classes, a feature of the old days. I peeped into one recitation room. It was vacant; I passed another and saw Ruth Martin, presiding over a class in Virgil. One of the girls was even then tracing the course of pins Aeneas. I was tempted to remain longer, but my guardian led me on, and I came to a door on which was inscribed, IIGladys Poehler Ph. D., B. L., D. So, etc. I opened the door and spied iiClad in a far corner of the room. The desk in front of her was covered with papers of different sizes, filled with neatly arranged num- bers. There! she exclaimed happily, uI,ve found the fourth dimension! I was thrilled too, but not surprised. We had always been sure that HGladH would solve some difhcult mathematical puzzle. A sudden change-another city. I found myself on a couch in a room artistically decorated. It was the scene of an afternoon tea. In one corner Felice Chase was giving orders to scurrying maids. Who should march in but Sally Small and Helen Lewis, Page 31

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Hear the voices of the Seniors, Senior bells! What a room of merriment their conver- sation tells! How they talk and study hard In the Senior room so bright Where laughing is not balfcl, And the nineties on our card Tell us in the fight That we are keeping time To the Alumnaels mighty rhyme. So the end of all our grinding will make music well From the jingling and the tingling of the bell. Lots NASH Page 30

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their arms piled with parcels! Our class artists had joined forces! A jolly crowd! Here and there on the walls of the studio hung posters, magazine covers, drawings which Gibson or Flagg might have been proud to own. Behind draped easels I caught glimpses of beautiful paintings. Resolving to visit them again, I Sped on my way. Another change! Now I was in the corner of a box at a New York Horse Show. After straining my eyes in every direction, I recognized one of the uOld GuardH in an exquisitely gowned woman considering with a tall dark man some beautiful horses on exhibition. She turned and I realized that it was Phil Chase. I was. about to run after her and ask her about herself, but remembered that she could not hear me, so left her admiring her prize-winning entries. The next scene was Brooklyn Bridge. A large crowd had gathered, I wondered what bIood-curdling accident had occurred. I came 1to the iron rail and 1to my horror recognized Dorothy Chadbourn. As I reached her she clambered up the side, took a deep breath, and plunged into the river below. Was Dorothy committing suicide? Why didn't some one stop her? I leaned over the edge and saw her picked up by a waiting boat. A ripple of applause spread through the audience. A deep masculine voice behind me was heard: ii iDare-Devil Doaty, is a good name for her. Dorothy Chadbourn, a movie actress, doing such crazy stunts. My silent, sympathetic comrade led me to less hairaraising scenes. I was again in Minneapolis. Coming to a beautiful new building, I took the elevator and stopped at the eleventh floor. I eagerly scanned each door for some well-known name, but was not satisfied until I finally read, Studio of Dramatic Art.H Here was my destination. Hastily, I pushed open the door. 1 In the hrst room I recognized Veva Galle explaining to an attractive young girl the psychology of dramatic effects. Veva seemed happy and thoroughly engrossed. I went on to the next room and there was Helen Hyde, giving masculine impersonations before an admiring group of students. I settled myself to hear the rest of her clever monologue when a shriek from the other room disturbed us and I saw Veva rush to the door and grab Adele Bardwell! - Pats, cried Helen, from her studio. Pats, of all people! Where on earth did you drop from? Are you going to be here long? What have you been doing with yourself? Pats, dutifully admired everything and everybody and said she had come west to see her family. She had heard by chance that Veva and Helen were doing dramatic work in Minneapolis. She modestly admitted that she was going back to New York to star in a new production by a famous playwright. In the midst of shrieks of con- gratulations, the spirit snatched me away. HCay Paree! I found myself rising in the air. Here and there darted noise- less, compact little cars as luxurious as the finest of automobile. Upon the quiet broke a peculiar sound. A long rakish monoplane tore by, and as it passed, I saw iiDo Young, and' heard her familiar laugh. Beside her sat a clean- cut broad- shouldered American. While I was looking long- ingly after them, another car raced past, and with a quick glance I spied Eleanor Stowell, in the midst of a laughing crowd. It was tantalizing to have such a tiny glimpse of these two adventurous chums. A dizzy Hight! I was put down in a land strange to me. After a glance or two around I decided that I was in China. I was quickly carried from the crowded streets of Peking out to a beautiful estate with lovely grounds, Elled with guests. I scanned every person, to miss none of my old c1assmates.Low voices awoke school-girl memories, and turning, I saw Lois Nash and Katherine Currie joyfully greeting each other. Both, were on a -roundthe-wor1d trip, and while their respective husbands were busy, had decided to attend the tea the American Ambassadgress was giving her country women. There they had accidentally met. I looked around endeavoring to fmd another friend. In the center of an interested group, I recognized Jeanette Gilbert, telling of her work for the crippled children of China, how she had established hospitals and playgrounds for them and how they were being educated according to the most modern ideas. In the midst of her fascinating tale, I was whirled back across the ocean. My guardian msis ted on making visits according to some incomprehensible plan of his own. I was escorted to a beautiful building overlooking Lake Calhoun. With curi- osity, I went up the broad path. 011 a heavy panel a narrow plate of bronze bore the inscription, HThe Woman 5 Club of Minneapolis. I found myself 1n a wide hallway, out of which opened a large auditorium well hlled with a feminine audience. At the end Page 32