Northrop Collegiate School - Tatler Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

Text from Pages 1 - 120 of the 1945 volume:

I 7 4e 1 attest ms Published by Northrop Collegiate School Minneapolis, Minnesota t Wo affectionately dedicate this 1945 TATLER t0 MAUDE THOMPSON and ISABELLA MARZOLF in recognition of their many years of loyal and devoted service to Northrop Collegiate School Ethel M. Spurr Marion E. Goodale Chirstine Kinnaird Mary F. Hale Ethel E. Pease Ruth Heintz Lynch Blanche Barnhart Miriam Chambers Beatrice A. Blodgett Margaret Sweetser Dorothy Howell Margaret Bain Gladys Shoop Dorothy Fenner Marion R. Watson Barbara Jean Kirkpatrick Isabel J. Peterson Jean G. Cummings Isabella A. Marzolf Maude C. Thompson Glacia Cole Jean Duncan Catharine Cram Lucille F. Rochlus Gertrude Roscmond Helen Shoemaker Doric deVries Norma Bierbauer Ardcllc Perry Gloria Cunningham Katherine M. Phelps tf-aculty, ------- Principal Mathematics, Assistant to the Principal ------- - English ------- - French ------- Mathematics ------- - French ------- - English ------ History ------- - Latin ------ Latin, English ------ Spanish, French ------- Science ----- Mathematics, Science ------- English - - - - Mathematics ------- - French ------ Fourth Grade ----- Sixth Grade ------- Fifth Grade ----- First and Second Grades ------ Librarian ------- Fine Arts ----- Speech, Dramatics Music Appreciation. Choral Music, Glee Clubs ------- - Piano ----- Physical Education ------ Physical Education ----- Executive Secretary -------- Secretary ------ Assistant ----- Director, Dining Room jbu teeA, Huntington Brown, President Mrs. H. B. Atwater, Vice President Robert C. Woodworth, Treasurer Leavitt R. Barker Theodore W. Bennett Mrs. Jk’nton Case George D. Dayton II Mrs. Kingsley Ervin, ex-officio W. Hubert Kennedy Dr. Elizabeth Lowry Charles Silvcrson Mrs. Lucian Strong Miss Elizabeth Wallace Charles .1. Winton, Jr. Mrs. Valentine Wurtelc A. A. Zicrold j PatetUd, and AiAociatian Mrs. Kingsley Ervin, President Miss Miriam Chambers, Recording Secretary Mrs. George Hcffelfinger, First Vice- Mrs. Russell Morse, Corresponding Secretary President Mrs. Charles Denny, Treasurer Mrs. John Campbell, Second Vice-President 4 Mcuf We JWW ce fyctxwltif Jean has been our leading citizen since the class of ’45 first toddled into the old halls as rowdy kindergarteners. She entered the upper school as 7th grade president and left it as senior president, and between times she has spent long hours poring over the financial miseries of the League treasury. Anyone who has read her profound literary masterpieces will know that she is our philosopher, constantly quoting and being quoted. She’s one of those fun-loving C.C. gals, and little Dr. Dunn’ is always fixing up our problems and dragging us out of the doldrums. Jean has held a place on the honor roll for six years, besides taking an active part in many extra-curricular activities. Her favorite daydreams are about her summers on Lake Caribou at Lutsen, for she is particularly susceptible to the call of the wild. We will Jean’s big, brown eyes and cheerful spirit to Smith next year and know that there she will be a friend of all two thousand. Junior Glee Club—’42 Tatler Board—’42 Senior Glee Club—’43, ’44 Assistant Treasurer of the League—’43 Treasurer of the League—’44 Senior Class President—’45 Debate Club—’45 Varsity Basketball—’42, ’43, ’44, '45 Varsity Hockey—’43, ’44, ’45 8 JluciUe Gamp, Her heart is like the moon—always a man in it.” Lucy is the artistic member of our class and is one of the few seniors who has gone to Northrop since she first entered kindergarten. Lucy’s pride and joy, her little green convertible, has willingly furnished transportation for all of the seniors at one time or another. Lucy never fails to inspire pessimistic classmates with her happy-go-lucky attitude about life and love, and she is always willing to lend a sympathetic ear to our many troubles. The strong masculine influence has been evident in Lucy’s hectic social life for a year. Her modeling career has made Lucy our nomination for the most stylish senior in years to come. With her beautiful blond hair she will no doubt conquer many a heart. It is a certainty that Lucy will make a success in the field of art at Bennett, and someday we are hoping to see her works of art hanging in the Louvre. Senior Drama Club—’43, ’44, ’45 Public Relations—’45 9 Marge took her place in the class of ’45 in the tenth grade, bringing with her not only her subtle humor but also her striking good looks which soon resulted in her being chosen to model at a spring fashion show. Unrivaled as a comedienne, Dong” has made a reputation not soon to be forgotten with her hilarious portrayals in many a dramatic club presentation; among her funniest have been the roles of Elsa in A Dramatic Lesson” and the N.C.S. pupil in an open house skit. Despite her disdain for men, Marge has many admirers; but we hate to press this point because she always becomes red. The things we will remember about Marge arc her sense of of humor and her straight hair, the latter of which came to an end with the event of the year— that” permanent. With her personality, Marge’s popularity is certain at college. 10 Senior Drama Club—’43, ’45 Tatler Board—'43, ’44, ’45 jjasiet GUatufileA. There s nothing worth the wear of winning hut laughter and the love of friends” ' Janet has been with us only two years, but in that short time she has proved herself to be one of the friendliest and most willing members of our class. It is rumored that her keen interest in sailing is partly due to an added attraction at Lake Calhoun; she is one of the few members of the class who receive frequent letters from a private party.” We are all amazed by her ability to cat mammoth breakfasts including fish balls, fried potatoes, and eggs, but in spite of the tremendous capacity which this would indicate, she continually struggles to eat less. For two years she has belonged to the Glee Club, this year serving as librarian. Jan’s giggle is well known to us all, and her everlasting cheerfulness is our mainstay on blue Mondays. She is always sweet to everyone, and we know that at whatever college she enters she will be as well loved as she is by us. Senior Glee Club—’44, ’45 Senior Ensemble—’45 Athletic Committee—’45 Varsity Hockey—’44, ’45 Varsity Basketball— 44, ’45 Captain, Blue Varsity—’44, ’45 11 0 77 ' a y. o « GatLeSiine Gale She's small, hut so is a stick of dynamite.” Eccentric in little things and practical in big ones is Baba, our concentrated capsule of vigor and vitality. Although she will dissect her pet lizards in the Senior Room, will have her midnight snacks of catsup sandwiches, and will wear her dark blue stockin’s to bed, in major crises she is known for her good sense and even temper. Backstage Baba” has been a valuable member of the Dramatic Club’s prop crew, and her precise artistic style is one of Dunkie’s joys. She has rescued the seniors many a morning by her familiar cry, Hey, you guys, the juniors are in Chapel.” Bccber’s” love of Minnetonka plus her nautical heritage has made her an ardent sailor, and due to her endless hospitality the ’lastic lodging by the lake has been the scene of many hilarious house-parties. Following the Cole tradition, Baba will go to Principia next year where her happiness is assured. Junior Drama Club—’42 Senior Drama Club—’43 Entertainment Committee—’44 School Procedure Committee—’45 Varsity Hockey—’45 Varsity Basketball—’43 12 M G Sudan Z'w.itt Where t jrre's a will, wisdom finds a way. Susan, the most versatile member of our class, has in extra-curricular activities contributed much to the art, dramatic, and athletic departments of Northrop. Her beautiful plaques and effective scenery will always be appreciated here, and as the formidable forward of our basketball team, she has led the class in athletic points. I his year she ably carried out her duties as Vice President in charge of Public Relations which included hard work on war stamp sales, relief projects, and entertainment. Susan’s excellence in scholarship set an unusually high standard at Northrop, and her remarkable scope of general knowledge brought her national recognition in the Time test. Her political interest led her to establish the Student Federalist program in Northrop, and we are sure that Susan’s rare sense of humor will be appreciated as much at Vassar as it was here. Junior Drama Club—’42 Tatlcr Board—’42, ’43, ’44 Awards Committee—’43, ’44, ’45 Senior Drama Club—’43, ’44, ’45 Debate Club—’45 League Vice President—’45 Public Relations Committee—’44, ’45 Varsity Basketball—’45 i 13 Wit wakes its own welcome. ’ I’m going on a strict diet starting tomorrow, and this time I really mean it!” screams our personality kid as she cats the delicious goodies brought by some more ambitious senior. Although Marge claims that she is calorie-counting,” anyone who has ever eaten with her has discovered the real truth. Marge has been one of Dunkie’s ablest assistants in both cleaning and decorating the art room. Notwithstanding, her cool efficiency as President of the Senior Glee Club, Marge has also proved to be a very excellent second soprano. Marge’s famous little escapade at this year’s Northrop Red Cross Dance turned into a very successful and most profitable friendship. Her long, variegated hair, captivating eyes, and winning smile make her—Marge. Senior Glee Club—’43, ’44, ’45 Senior Glee Club President—’45 Madrigal—’44 Senior Ensemble—’45 Public Relations Committee—’45 14 Vicvc came to us in her sophomore year from Lewisburg, Pa., and since then has won a very special place in the hearts of all of us. She has lent a sympathetic ear to the troubles of many a senior and has inspired us numerous times with her unfailing ambitions. She has been the envy of all of us with her daily letters from all points, namely West. Vieve’s dramatic talent has made her a valuable member of the Dramatic Club, winning her leads in the productions given in both her junior and senior years. Vieve’s efficiency-plus has evidenced itself in her commendable management of the Tatler business staff. Vicvc has maintained high grades and has consistently achieved a place on the honor roll since her entrance. We arc sure that her small, deft hands will aid her as a nurse and that her lovely photogenic smile will win her many friends at Buckncll. Public Relations Committee—'43, ’44 Senior Drama Club—’44, ’45 Business Manager, Tatler Board—’45 15 3 ” vS-S - JSL °” (T r Qutltsiie. 0,,U'U l:L Re of only to conquer, but to be conquered.” Will anyone please take late study hall? Once again Jean is off on her daily quest which is only a small part of her unenvied and thankless job as Vice President in charge of School Procedure. Jean has performed her duties with unusual conscientiousness and efficiency and has carried these same qualities through to her school work where she has constantly maintained a high average. Her numerous letters and positions on varsity teams are proof of Jean’s athletic abilities, while her locker wins her the honor of the “neatest senior.” Her perfect combination of wit and bon sens’ is evident in her much valued advice to us. Her biography would not be comp cte wit out men- tion of her well-known monotone and shiny black rubbers. Jean s ricn ,ness an i . • . i her at Smith as they have here, interest in people are sure to bring as many friends to nc Junior Drama Club—’42 Senior Drama Club—’43, ’44, ’45 Class President—’43 School Procedure—’44, ’45 League Vice President—’45 Debate Club—’45 Varsity Hockey—’45 Varsity Basketball—’45 16 -0- -4 v - jL - - '(XA+ • ' P juj 5f so o -fi hM (NJL4 S -c ' x t tr -- . w , Man.'i Ue, cMcupei. “My am I: from care Vm free. u V � rrw7 all contented like me?' The above quote is a very mild statement of Marge’s exceedingly good-natured and cheerful personality. One of the unsolved mysteries about her is how she maintains such a calm exterior amidst the uproarious confusion of the Senior Room. Marge is noted for her fierce guarding in basketball and general excellence in athletics of all kinds. We feel that something should be said in praise of Marge’s capable performance of her duties as business manager of the Dramatic Club this year. Her enthusiasm accounted in no small part for the success of the play. No one can call the seniors undernourished, and Hazel” has done more than her share by donating numerous calory-filled boxes. At whatever college she chooses, we know that Marge will continue to be as much fun and will win as many friends as she has at Northrop. Senior Drama Club—’44, ’45 Drama Club Business Manager—’45 Tatler Board—’45 17 X i Zlea+iosi Kennedy 'Ah, you flavor everything, you are the vanilla of society.” It was twelve years ago that Patty first ambled into Northrop—a balloon in one hand and twin Betty in the other, and from that time on she has gained recognition from everyone for her friendly greetings and spontaneous laughter. In her drooping shorts and size thirty-four shirt, Patty has been the cause of much hilarity in the gym class as she struggles to break her annual record of two push-ups. As a sophomore she was a member of the Glee Club and since that time has rendered many sweet” refrains to enliven our gloomier days. In the summer months before the war P.K. experienced a more rugged” life at her northern home on Gull Lake, and in spite of the war has been posted” regularly by one of the Gull Lake dwellers. Patty’s petitencss and enthusiasm have attracted many friends at Northrop and will gain her many more in the future. Junior Glee Club—’42 Senior Glee Club—’43 Entertainment—’42 Public Relations Committee—’45 18 Wu djj us . sQf _, = -'- jL fe • “A Itx’rc is mischief in that woman” Betty, our secretary-treasurer, is one of the charter members of the class and for twelve years her conscientious efforts have been the cause of great admiration. The seniors’ warped sense of humor is partly due to B.K.’s sudden, rare witticisms, and we recommend to Duncan Hines, 2305 Oliver, as a place to find hospitality, laughs, Good Eating, and Lodging For a Night. As a member of the Dramatic Club. Betty has gained repute as a prize prop-pusher, and on the basketball court is one of our nimblest guards. An abundance of raw carrots, rip-roaring tennis games, pre-season sun-bathings, and abstinance from goodies formulate the Be-Kennedy-Success-Course and it proves infallible. She gave her regards to Broadway recently and this is only the beginning of a spectacular career in the East where we arc sure she’ll be happy just because she’s Betty. Junior Glee Club—’42 Junior Drama Club—’43, ’44 Varsity Hockey—’44 Class Secretary-Treasurer—’45 Varsity Basketball—’45 19 £Uee t Her ways arc ways of pleasantness.” Since Eileen entered our class in our junior year she has taken part in most of the activities of the school. She is one of the mainstays of the Glee Club, and played Mother Peagle in Murder in the Nunnery. Last year she was one of the photographers for the Tatler. As one of the most agile members of the basketball team, she is a match for any guard, and her Irish enthusiasm has often spurred us on to victory. With unusual generosity she has volunteered for many of the time-consuming jobs such as scenery painting which involve more work than glory. Laif’s many interests have made it possible for her to discover something stimulating in every situation, and she has accumulated a remarkable fund of information on many subjects. With her diligence, curiosity, and personality, she carries with her the means to achievement in her chosen field. Senior Glee Club—’44, ’45 Senior Ensemble— 45 Tatler Board—’44, 45 Senior Drama Club—’4 S Varsity Basketball—’44 Varsity Hockey—’45 20 —3 Aj--Q_J V -A -J v-— • V -— G 3P30w CvaA V iA Si. — — — JK. s . £-'� TV S5 r fyruutceA jHeAlie Go l forbid that I should go to any heaven in which there are no hones. Chickic entered the annals of Northrop history in ’42. She immediately joined the Glee Club, her alto voice contributing much to its success. Her outstanding ability in painting was recognized last year when she won prizes in the Scholastic Art Contest. She has spent much time making publicity posters and decorations for school parties. Even though art work and Glee Club are important in her life, Chickic’s main interest is in Latin America. Her visit to Mexico inspired further study of Spanish at the University this year. How she could carry two courses at the U” as well as a full schedule at Northrop has been a source of wonder to the senior class. Chickic’s own Good Neighbor” policy will be strengthened when she returns to Mexico this summer. She plans to go to Mills College next year, where we know she will be a great success. Senior Drama Club—’43, ’44 Senior Glee Club—’43, ’44, ’45 Madrigal—’44 Senior Ensemble—’45 Athletic Committee—’44 Public Relations Committee—’45 21 Q ibiucIleC)' She whose song we love tin' best” As the music blares forth in the Senior Room one can always find an admiring group centered about Gert, who is our lindy expert. Besides dancing, this versatile girl is also adept at all kinds of athletics, and her beautiful soprano has won her solos every year in Glee Club. In between answering those much envied letters from the South Pacific, Gert has found time to maintain a good scholastic record. Her quick thinking has aided her in becoming one of the mainstays of the Debate Club, and she has taken an active part on the School Procedure Committee this year. Gert is also known as one of the most obliging senior chauffeurs, and many is the member of the senior class who has just made that” four o’clock dental appointment—thanks to Gert. W c are sure that her quick smile and friendly manner will win her many friends at col egc. Junior Glee Club—’42 Senior Glee Club—’43, '44, ’45 T reasurer—'4 5 Madrigal—’43, ’44 Senior Ensemble—’45 Varsity Basketball—’42, ’43, ’44, ’45 Debate Club—’45 School Procedure Committee----’45 22 t y (Ze2sz 2 -C u2, o2 C r Sydney P pyxasid - cx C - A merry heart tnaketb a cheerful countenance.” Sydney’s dimples and smile arc an index to her personality. It is this sunniness that keeps her cheerful when we invite ourselves to ride in her car. (She holds a record for driving from Excelsior in twenty minutes.) Syd’s idiosyncrasies include a passion for varied pets—from bees and pigeons to the black colt that is the joy of her life. Sydney is one of the few seniors to be a perpetual inhabitant of the Senior Room: reason— her conscientious study habits which shame the rest of us. On rainy days her riotous curls are the source of envy. As Mother Trevor in Murder in a Nunnery, Sydney was continuing her tradition of turning in good performances for the Dramatic Club. Sydney is not one of the noisy seniors, but her humor twinkles in her eyes and is one of her priceless charms. Syd deserted Northrop in her sophomore year, but we arc glad she liked us well enough to return to graduate with the class of ’45. Junior Drama Club—’42 Senior Drama Club—’44, ’45 23 Joan entered Northrop in her sophomore year and since has become a familiar figure in the art room where her designs of beautiful costumes awe the aspiring artists of the class. Drawing, however, is not the only talent that Joan possesses, for her clear second soprano voice mingles with others in the Senior Glee Club and between meetings keeps the seniors humming along with her. Joan’s quest for adventure led her to Mexico, and since her return she has entertained the seniors with many fascinating stories and letters from the good-neighbor country,” as well as with her own lively rendition of the Samba. She is kindly, even-tempered and sympathetic, and has unbounded faith in human nature. Carlcton will get our vivacious Joan next fall, and we know that she will make as lasting an impression there as she has made at Northrop. Senior Drama—'43 Senior Glee Club—’43, '44, ’43 Senior Ensemble—’4S Public Relations—’45 24 Katttledn Smith ne'er be 'uare of my own wit 'til break my shins against it ” Kathleen’s serene exterior many times belies her dual personality, for her famous blood-curdling screams have often aroused the more serious minded teachers. Katie’s uncqualcd wit and exaggerated stories of her past experiences have kept innumerable students in guffaws. She has also entertained us with her musical attainments which include everything from boogie-woogie to Mozart. Her figure, being the acme of perfection, caused her to be chosen as model for the senior tea last year. Scholastically Kathleen has attained one of the highest averages in the class, and athletically she has been outstanding in all sports. Her tact and understanding combined with her friendly personality and outstanding accomplishments have made Kathleen one of the best liked girls in the class, and may well assure her a successful future. Junior Glee Club—’42 Class Secretary-Treasurer—’42 Senior Drama Club—’43, ’45 Secretary, Senior Drama Club—’43 President, Senior Drama Club—’45 Senior Glee Club—’43. ’44 Madrigal—’43, ’44 Class President—’44 Varsity basketball—’45 Tatlcr Board—’43 Public Relations Committee—’45 25 As a loud squeal bursts forth from within our Senior Room, we know that Katie is with us once more. Katie came to Northrop in her junior year and immediately proved herself invaluable in the field of sports. She is one of the few seniors who has been on practically all our first teams, being captain several times. It was shown that Katie has artistic ability as well as athletic talent when she won first prize in the art contest last year. The dominant influence in Katie’s life has lasted since sixth grade, thus she is one of the three or four seniors who has an outside interest in life. Although she astounds the class with her hoarsy frog voice, she is the envy of all of us with her perfect figure. Katie hopes to major in modern dance at college next year, and we feel sure that she will achieve anything she might attempt in the future. Drama Club—’44 Varsity Basketball—’44, ’45 Tatler Board—’45 Varsity Hockey—’45 26 ex -- • v jrcr ,. Vx “ • CH “cT1 S, jAn. -� esca, % C . £$jo - V� - a«C Hl04Hai. A poet without love were .„ mobility As a fitting climax to her active career as a leader at Northrop, Jane this year received one of the schools highest honors, the Presidency of the League. She has fulfilled the duties of this position with her usual enthusiasm and efficiency, and she has set a high example for the school. In addition to this, she has maintained an excellent scholastic record and has contributed infinitely to the Glee Club with her beautiful soprano voice. Her literary genius has found its way into the Tatlcr's Pen Points every year since her arrival in fifth grade, and her fierce forehand and blitz backhand have won many victories on the tennis court of Wayzata. Bishop Thomas’s advice to the lovelorn has aided many a senior over the thorny path to reconciliation, and for this we owe her our heartfelt thanks. Genial and jovial, Smith, we give you our Jane. Junior Glee Club—’42 Tatler Board—’42, ’43, ’44 Awards Committee—’42, '43, ’44 Class Secretary-Treasurer—’43 League Secretary—’44 League President—’45 Senior Glee Club—’43, ’44 Senior Ensemble—’45 Varsity Hockey—’45 Varsity Basketball—’45 27 A hairbrush, a bottle of perfume, and rosebud soap indicate the presence of Marilyn, for they are ever with the lady” of the class. Marilyn joined our class in the middle of her sophomore year, and immediately assumed the position of the class glamor girl.” In spite of the handicap of a late entrance, she achieved a place on the honor roll that year and has continued to retain this record in her junior and senior years. Tick” has proved herself an invaluable member of the Senior Dramatic Club by taking major roles in the plays presented both last year and this. Debate club, Public Relations work, as well as present political issues have been among her other interests at school. Marilyn’s famous J. S. blind date is renowned for its unusual success and durability. We are sure that her career at college will be as colorful as her life at Northrop has been. 28 Senior Drama Club—’43, ’44, 45 Debate Club—’45 Public Relations Committee—'4$ Vo 'heeled Sir mm be urn to „. appreciated. Amid the incessant babble of the Senior Room, one frequently hears Sally’s voice slowly counting W'ar Stamp money. Conscientious Sally has done much for Northrop since her entrance in the first grade, and though she left us in second grade to spend a year in Switzerland, she rejoined us in the fourth grade. Ever since she has been one of our top-knotchcrs” in French. Sally’s keen sense of humor has enabled her to understand our amusement at her applying her love of animals to her chemistry. We refer to her not infrequent remarks about litters of acid.” Sally has been a valuable member of the glee club for four years, and her work in the Red Cross has been renowned. Sally’s more serious and reserved inclinations have been a valuable asset in her work as a member of Northrop’s debating club. Moreover, her tolerance and sympathy have made her one of the most beloved members of our class. Junior Glee Club—’42 Junior Drama Club—’42 Senior Glee Club—’43, ’44, ’45 Madrigal—’43, ’44 Senior Ensemble—’45 Senior Drama Club—’43 Debate Club—’45 Public Relations—’43, ’45 29 — -An I Vypo — vxiT - 2, §.«, . t .v- g£ J _CrOa_-£aJ s jjea+i (Wie fCMt 'Ability wins the esteem of true men” Wicgy is one of those breathless lakers” who barely arrive at school by attendance time. She came to Northrop in her junior year, and immediately entered the fields of scholastic and athletic competition enthusiastically. Jean excels in anything mathematical, and for that reason is the envy of most of the chemists. She has been on almost every first team since she entered Northrop, and was made the White’s hockey captain this year. She was also chosen to represent us on the Senior Room Committee this year and has been an outstanding member of the Glee Club for two years, singing a solo at the Spring Concert in May. Our real appreciation of Jean’s fineness was expressed when she was chosen as the Madonna in the Christmas pageant. She hopes to become a doctor, and we feel sure that with her abilities she will achieve anything she attempts. Senior Glee Club—’44. ’45 Senior Glee Club Secretary—’45 Madrigal—'44 Senior Ensemble—’45 Tatlcr Board—’44, ’45 Senior Room Committee 30 voCrC cx juOC „ X'U’cY'uoo - oJu )rxxJi-� - CK 'if Loows CJLxJr fjulia h inta+i Ihou art to me a delicious torment.” We present our famous blonde, renowned for her wee, Winton nose and irresistible personality. Our favorite entertainment is watching Judy’s momentary fits of flustration, but the same energy which she displays here is the key to her success in everything she docs. Since she entered Northrop in the seventh grade, Judy has made steady scholastic progress, finally rising to the glory of the first honor roll. Among her many abilities arc artistic talents, and skills in all sports. A familiar sight (and sound!) is Judy clinging to the wreckage of her capsized C” boat in the middle of Lake Minnetonka. Our camera fiend, with her pep and pcrsistance, has proved her ability as I'a ler editor by putting out the best yearbook ever. Juju’s sparkling joic de vivre” is the drawing card for innumerable friends, and with this we foresee many more at college. Class President—’42 Junior Glee Club—’42 School Procedure Committee—’44 Awards Committee—’44 League Vice President—’45 Tatlcr Board—’45 Varsity Basketball—’45 31 'Good nature is tlx• key to friendship. Hailing from Detroit, Michigan, Joan joined our happy throng at the end of our junior year. Joan’s adaptability in making friends at N.C.S. has made us all wish that she had come to Minneapolis sooner. In spite of her short time 3t Northrop, Joan has participated in many activities. The character of Mr. Turtle was unquestionably one of the outstanding bits of acting in Murder in a Nunnery, of which Joan was also assistant director. Her clever extemporaneous speeches are a source of amazement to us all, and her vivaciousness and keen sense of humor have brightened many a tedious day in the Senior Room. Her famed hospitality and good cooking have made 4630 Edge-brook Place a senior hangout. Last but not least, this would not be complete without mentioning Joan’s idiosyncrasy for remembering dates of BOTH KINDS. Joan’s understanding way and unusual enthusiasm will help her to go far in her years at college. Senior Drama Club—’45 Athletic Committee—’45 Debate Club—’45 4 VVJ S v j 9s, ' X‘ n Mosty WuAtela ’'Blushing is the color of virtue. , L Mary’s first feat at Northrop was ac. ,. , kindergarten to second grade; since then°mpl,shcd on thc Pr°ud day she skipped from given proof of her varied abilities. Twice , |numt ous contributions to the school have performed her job as vice president in chared jTTj. •' yCar Mary bas enthusiastically because of Mary’s many athletic interests- liL ,°.i ct,c.s; an oJficc Particularly fitting burg will long be told. The Glee Club and DramJnV °|m, 0Unt : Tremblant and Middle-extra-curricular Activities, and her unusual mathematical J7 amonS Mary’s her high scholastic average. Our cool blonde with her inimi hP contrjbutcd to is famed for her gifts from numerous admirers. With her lovable0 .rcpartcc to be everything anyone would want in a friend, Smith, give y onlV o b! Junior Glee Club—’42 Senior Glee Club—’43, ’44 Awards Committee—’43 Class Secretary-Treasurer—’44 School Procedure Committee—’44 League Vice President—’45 Athletic Committee—’45 Varsity Hockey— 44, ’45 Varsity Basketball—’44, ’45 33 RoAxvnwd yau+uj, Mm like l”lllc,s’ S l“rlber Wh' lhl'y arc smooth.” Rozzy came to Northrop in the ninth grade. Although she went to W ayzata as a sophomore, she came back to us for her last two years. She has shown her persevcrcncc and efficiency through her position as manager of the War Stamp sales. None of us envy her tedious and never-ending job of keeping track of those records. Rozzy has a quiet but pleasing personality which has intrigued others outside of the senior class— chiefly the Allied Air Forces. She can be found at almost any time in the big red chair listening to ballads on the vie,” and twirling her hair (a most persistent idiosyncrasy) as she reads through art pages. Roz’s interest in music prompted her to join last year’s Dance Club. She also has a distinctive taste in clothes, and is always one of the best-dressed at any social event. Rozzy’s love for the South is one of the reasons why Rollins is the college of her choice. Public Relations Committee— 4J Senior Will Wc, the citizens of the Senior Class of 1945, being of sober spirit and morbid mood, do, in this our first will and last testament, hereby bequeath our various virtues and vicious vices to posterity, that they may benefit by our blunders and cherish our memory from this day forward and hence forevermore. To those who have a particular yen for jaunts to Faribault wc sadly will Lucy’s little green car and large gold ring. Sports addicts will appreciate their inheritance of Campbell’s sturdy ankles—guaranteed not to buckle under strain. Wc bequeath Chan’s patience and endless endurance to the first graders who have such a long way to go. Wc reluctantly part with Baba’s open houses, hoping that future midnight revelers will find as much food and fun as we did. To all who become weighted with work and worries wc leave Yeanic’s snoozing ability which makes her sweetly oblivious of the Senior Room pandemonium. We proudly will Susan’s many talents and cheerful willingness to the school, knowing that it will be long before any one student can equal her contributions to Northrop. We leave the initials, M.F., to all desks, walls, ceilings, and telephone booths which have not already therewith been decorated. To all those who aspire to adorn magazine covers and coast to coast billboards, we leave Vicvc’s photogenic features. For the entertainment of Monday morning chemistry lab classes, we will Jean G.’s tall tales of the University of Life which wc know will fully awaken them. To all sufferers from collapsed arches due to strollers, wc leave Hayes’ Buster Brown health shoes. For the benefit of coming classes of sun-worshippers who will frequent the gravel surface of the Senior Solarium, we bequeath Betty’s pre-season suntans. We will P.K.’s pep to future clean-up committees and to those afflicted with midwinter drudgery. For the benefit of those who suffer with excess avoirdupois due to lack of willpower at the lunch table, we part with Eileen’s pleasing petiteness. Chiquita’s Good Neighbor Policy wc leave to adventurous Spanish students who will sooner or later be quaffing taquilas in Mexico City. Gertrude’s miraculous memory wc will to Miss Chambers’ Who’s Whocrs” and Miss Kinnaird’s soliloqueers” so that last-minute, frantic frustration will not confront them. To all women who ride Wendell’s wagon” we will Sydney’s two-toned limousines so that they will not be bruised and beaten by the battering bus rides. We present Potters proposals to our pedagogues who have so suffered with the class of ’45. Wc bequeath Smith’s retreads to holy solcrs whose saddle shoes could stand them. To the Walt Disney studios and to Hollywood wc bequeath Katie’s duck-talk, feeling that she would be a good stand-in for Donald. 35 Jane’s rhumbas together with the Senior Room records we leave to the janitors and the domestic staff that they, in their odd hours, may find inspiration and recreation in the South American way. To those who arc feeling the humiliating effects of the Kleenex shortage, we will Tickle’s hand-hemmed hankies. We leave Sally’s endless supply of R.A.F.’s, alias Winnipeg wolves, to next year’s J.S. believing that existing conditions will still prevail. We will Wiegand’s jokes” to the heavy-hearted Friday night knitters and the Saturday night study society. To the admirers of our Blonde Bomber’s tresses, we solemnly bequeath the remaining contents of Judy’s HoO bottle. We will Wood’s compassion to the bitter souls who arc compelled to give up their Friday afternoons to detention detail. To the lake dwellers who have trouble in meeting the 8:2 5 deadline, we will the proximity of Wurt’s house which allows her to slide down the back slope in one minute flat. To those who have difficulty in expressing themselves in moments of stress and strain, we will Rozzic’s impromptu prayers. In witness whereof on this fifth day of June in the year one thousand nine hundred and forty-five we solemnly stamp our seals and set our signatures. LUCY GERTRUDE CAMPBELL SYD CHAN POTTER BABA SMITH YEANIE KATIE SUE JANE M.F. TICKLE VIEVE SQUEEKS GUS WIEGIE HAYES JUDY BETTY WOOD PATTY MARE-WARE EILEEN CHICKIE ROZZIE 3 6 cJlcwe. cM-eateH About Ito GlaAsieb V; ? V x:'w v,i rLe. fiu s 7 j vOe_'ii - .3c Y «lH 40 . jrC OC c .‘( j—r -p «i© i Qjx.t O- - 2J ’Sfcw' ' VU 9-V , tk I ttt-V% ac o Ux.ft.U- � M 'ftU T 3 ' I- . $ . StanJing: Mary Padf4rd, Jo Anne Newman, Caroline Hanson, Barbara Clark, Merrit McQueen, Barbara 4 uS'� ! Long, Cpar!ot(e Lyman, Norma Rita, Priscilla Adams, Ruth Ann Schirmer, Mariyss Shedd, Koxbury Hyde, o — nrifc Fait. Sealed: Mary Eleanor Denny. Sally McClain, Deborah Nunan, Cynthia Gamble, Mary Stil- Suza sorf.yMargarct Brhnsdale • Ruth Benson. Nancy Ann Norton, Ann Cosgrove Absent: Suzanne DuToit. ) tfr M fluniVi ClaM, Although the junior class is the smallest in the upper school, their activities have 1 not been hindered by their number. When the sixth war loan drive was launched throughout the country, the junior class put on a drive supported patriotically by the entire school. During the faculty basketball game, the juniors held a food sale to add to r the weight of spectators and the class treasury. Though the war has caused us to reduce - jb f no nnmlsa‘1 f (A 'i il '� Afivitu� c fhn him! .. • • 1 V f __C . X. the number of social activities, the juniors are giving the annual Junior-Senior prom at the Woodhill Country Club on June 6. In sports this year the junior class showed its prowess by winning the field hockey tournament. Mou?d k -C I V An election for class officers was held at the beginning of the year. Cynthia Gamble was elected president of the class and Merritt McQueen secretary-treasurer. Representing the class on the council were Suzanne Fait during the first semester and Suzanne DuToit during the second. v ’ as Standing: Jennifer McKinnon-Wood, Nancy Wrench, Cynthia Knoblauch, Ann Gray, Barbara Wittman, Helen Preu , Sidney Young, Joan Dalrymple, Margery Cro� by, Ruth Harper, Miriam Harrison, Elizabeth Lehman, Mary Chilton, Diane Fait, Sally Campbell, Mary Cardie, Mary Lou Tuttle, Marion Morse, Betty Ross, Peggy DoRochcrs. Seated: Caroline F.vensen, Sheila Strong, Sinclair Winton, Georgia Beaverton, Carol Skoglund, Jean Geggie. Florence Eggleston, Emily Upgren, Barbara F.ricson, Marilyn Hutchinson, Esther Crosby. Suzanne Sessions, Judy Barker, Lois Jensen, Stanley Brooks, Paula Skellctt. Absent: Helen Tearse, Diane McDonald. «SafiUama'ie ClaM This year the sophomore class is thirty-eight strong, one of the largest classes in Northrop. The class members have contributed much to the success of the activities of the Senior Dramatic Club and Senior Glee Club. The class has participated wholeheartedly in sports throughout the year, the greatest achievement being that they defeated the sophomore class of Summit in basketball. The tenth grade gave a Red Cross dance which not only provided fun for all who attended but also earned a large sum of money for the Red Cross. The class also has been in charge of selling book room supplies this year. Everyone has had a chance to participate in this activity as the sales staff were shifted each week. Other class activities included the sophomore picnic for the seniors, and the decoration of the auditorium at Commencement. The class elections were held in September. Georgia Beaverson was elected president while Carol Skogland was elected secretary-treasurer. The council representatives were Sinclair Winton and Mary Cardie. 39 Standing: Nancy Ford, Mimi Bennett, Sue Bros, Harriet Sutton, Jerry I.ou Fossccn, Jean Hiatt, Gloria Rice, Marjorie Gibb), Peggy Wilsey, Sally Warner, Kathryn McRae, Martha Brown, Joan Wurtcle, Barbara Nunan, Sally Ankeny, Marguerite Tuttle, Barbara Nichols. Scaled: Thir a Jonc . Louise Jamieson, Carolyn Cole, Helen Winton, Joan McBride, Nancy Long, Jean Ncilson, Nancy Stillman, Molly Rand, Kathryn Harper, Ann Worthington, Sonja Swan, Sue Barrows, Barbara Barber, Lillian Farnand, Margaret Ladd, Sara Sprague, Betty Regan. Abitnt: Mary Gamble, Mary Relf. tf-teAhmen Qlall � The freshman class have sponsored a daily food sale during recess to raise money for the activities of the welfare committee. This project has been under the direction of Sally Ankeny. The class was well represented on the varsity basketball squad, evidence of their skill in sports. Freshmen have been active also in the Junior Glee Club and Junior Dramatic Club. In a lighter moment, the freshmen produced an ice ballet” that furnished much hilarity at the annual Ice Carnival. The beauty and grace of Nancy Long and her chorus challenged Sonja Hcnie. One highlight for the year was the League Dance because as freshmen we were able to attend this dance for the first time. The freshmen experienced no man shortage.” Class officers elected in September were Joan Wurtele, president, and Ann Worthington. secretary-treasurer. Representatives to the council were Kathryn McRae and Sally Ankeny. 40 StJHJinx: Mii .i Rice, Mary Louden, Sally Pierce, Susan Velie, Joan Fullerton, Sally Skinner. Betty Sutton, Barbara Briedenbach. SfdtcJ: Helen Carpenter, Alice Crosby, Betsy Bruchholz, Anne Boos, F.linor Goodrich. Jane Hotchkiss, Elizabeth Bennett, Nancy Nelson, Betsy Crosby, Dorothy Witt, Charlotte Guidinger, Marian Zicrold, Barbara Finch, Barbara Parker, Elizabeth Cleveland, Flazcl Burton, Molly Duff. Abunt: Betty Trisko, Penny Rand. Q iade The major project undertaken by the eighth grade during the current year has been the writing and publication of The 5II Chronicle. This monthly newspaper, planned for the benefit of the alumnae as well as the student body, was undertaken at the suggestion of Miss Spurr, and has proved a source of pleasure and satisfaction, and has been an incentive to hard work. The cooperation of the whole class has enabled the staff, under the guidance of Miss Fenner and Mrs. Shoop, to publish three issues of the paper. Under the sympathetic guidance of Miss Cram, the eighth grade speech classes have presented various scenes from Shakesperian plays, one group working upon Julius Caesar, another upon A Midsummer Night's Dream, and a third upon Macbeth. In addition to their work in the field of dramatics, a number of eighth graders took part in the concert given on May fifteenth by the Junior Glee Club. As a class the eighth grade was proud to continue an old tradition of the school, the decorating of the tree during Christmas week. Betsy Crosby has been class president and Hazel Burton secretary-treasurer. Representatives to the council were Anne Crosby and Molly Duff. 41 Standing: Elizabeth Barrows, Klioda Glad, Nancy Burnett, Harriet Dayton, Karen Gamble, Molly Morse, Patty Luce, Connie Wuriclc, Katharine Buckland, Caroline Kelley, Mildred I Icffclfinger, Cynthia Ross. Staled: Gay Greenly, Lucy Hitchcock, Betty Bjorkman, Elizabeth Vclic, Louise HclfcIfinRcr, Elizabeth Bradley, Helen Kinsman, Nancy Wiegand, Mamie MacMillan, Polly Case, Stephanie Kerr, Nancy Woodard. Joan Louden. Alnail: Christine Chardon, Carolyn Thomas. he Seventh Qlade Although the newest members of the upper school, the seventh grade has shown its enthusiasm by the way it has entered into all school activities. At Christmas time they played Santa Claus and collected Christmas gifts for the Welfare Committee. The class presented to the school The Knave of Hearts,” proving their creative ability as well as their practical sense. The seventh graders have not limited themselves to dramatic functions only, for many of the class arc members of the Junior Glee Club. Each of the twenty-seven members of the class has had a senior as a big sister” in the traditional manner of Northrop. With their respective seniors, the seventh graders have had several picnics and a slcighride out at the Lake.” Their never failing energy and effervescent humor left the seniors somewhat breathless. The officers of the class were Nancy Wiegand, president, Connie Wurtele, secretary-treasurer. Representatives to the League Council were Polly Case and Karen Gamble. 42 Jdawon, School Music Appreciation Suzanne Newton. Mary Gipson. Ruth Bennett. Ruth Hcffelfinger, Judy Patterson, Eliza Mooers, Lucy Dodge, Betty Andreas, Jean Shevlin, Anne Barr Bradley, l.aura Andrews, Mary Alice Bankc, Barbara Be i m , Ann Chase, Josefa Wilson. World Geography Standing: Margaret Patterson, Margaret Dayton, Joan Paine, Margaret Farnand, Madrienne Johnston, Sallie Stahr, Mary Beard, Susan Dcs-Rochcrs, Ann Silverson, Nancy Osborne. Seated: Barbara Osborne, Barbara Dickey .Jolley Fullerton, Ann McDougal, Marsha Tinker, Betty Huston, Judy Pratt, Shelley Smith, Katherine Andrews, Helen Bros, Paula McMillan, Janet Campbell. Patty Maslon, Sheila McCarthy, Phoebe McCabe, Shirley Good. 43 Jlcuaesi School Ic is in retrospection that we realize how many activities have been undertaken this year. Undoubtedly the most valuable ones, from the point of view of service to others, have been those carried on in conjunction with the Upper School Public Relations Committee. With a spirited drive the Lower School reached the goal of lOO in both its Red Cross membership and in its contributions to the War Chest Fund. Other service efforts have included contributions of food at Thanksgiving, toys at Christmas, and clothes for the French relief. The fourth, fifth, and sixth grade girls, as Junior Red Cross members, have also made articles to send to camps or hospitals, including tray favors, decorated Christmas cards for messages, and cartoon books. Book week in the fall was a busy one. One of the interesting activities in this connection was the making of simulated stained glass windows by the sixth grade, illustrating favorite or well-known books. The week concluded with an assembly program in which all of the Lower School children participated. The annual Open House on Washington’s Birthday met with its usual success. There was a large number of guests who visited classes and were entertained with a special mid-morning lunch and an assembly program. The program was comprised of impromptu dramatizations of incidents in the life of Washington, and in these some of the guests volunteered to join and take part with our girls. Among other assembly programs this year was one given by the first and second grades, a puppet show dramatizing the story of wool which was a part of their study of Shepherd Life. The fourth grade were interested in birds, and as members of the Junior Audubon Club gave a bird program. The curtailment of transportation did not deter the fifth and sixth grades from making a trip. They visited the Hennepin County Historical Society, and when they returned they carried on a contest to sec who could remember the most. The responses revealed many wide-awake minds! One of the most exciting events of the year was a Pet Show, a project into which all of the children entered with much enthusiam. Animals of all sorts were on exhibition—dogs, cats, kittens, chickens, ducks, turtles, and goldfish. It was an afternoon of real fun for everyone. It is traditional now for the Lower School to give a dramatic or musical production on League Day. This year the operetta, The Frog Prince, was presented, which completed the year’s activities. 44 IdJesie Is au 1M About lUe AciUUiiel ? 0 Ue Jdcded Jlaiv-jbouM SEPT. 14—Chins up! That happy day is here again. SEPT. 18—The Lower School has its own happy day.” OCT. 6—Dewey and Roosevelt get a big boost from Northrop publicity at the Old Ciiris’ Party for the new. OCT. 27—Whoopee! for the M.E.A. The seniors teach the seventh grade how to gee sand in their food properly at the senior picnic for their advisees.” NOV. 16—Those famous yellow street cars fairly bulge as Northrop goes to the first Young People’s Symphony. NOV. 17—The Navy opens our eyes wide at the beginning of the War Bond drive. NOV. 23-24—The turkey is stuffed and the cranberry sauce made—Thanksgiving holidays are here. DEC. 14—Some of that Northrop talent is shown in the Junior Guild Players’ production of The Knave of Hearts. DEC. 19—Everyone is filled with the Christmas spirit after our traditional celebration of the Nativity. DEC. 20-JAN. 8—Bring out the mistletoe and ring the bells—Christmas vacation at last! JAN. 12—We don our dancing shoes and trip the light fantastic at the Red Cross dance. JAN. 23—Beautiful music by the Chardons at the twilight concert in the interest of the scholarship fund. JAN. 26—We watch with much interest a creative dramatics program by the elementary school. JAN. 29—George Grim takes us with him in imagination on his trip through China. JAN. 29-FEB. 1—Even straight hair curls when those famous blue-books” appear! FEB. 9—The Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaires demonstrate their talents at the annual League dance. Mrs. Atkinson presents us a challenge in her talk on War Bonds and Stamps. 1?EB. 12—Northrop closes for Lincoln’s birthday. FEB. 13—Time catches up with us when our memories arc tested on the Time test. FEB. 16—On the coldest day of the year we are warmly welcomed at Summit. FEB. 26—Northrop is a busy hostess at the annual Open House. MAR. 7—Mademoiselles go to something new at Northrop—a chapel service a la francaisc.” MAR. 15—San Francisco has nothing on us—world peace problems are discussed as we hear from some of the seniors about the Student Federalists. MAR. 17—Chills and thrills arc in order as the Senior Dramatic Club presents Murder in the Nunnery. MAR. 22-APR1L 3—Bring out your Easter Bonnet—here comes Spring vacation. APRIL 7—What fun! Those gruelling College Boards are in order. MAY 2—Pull in your stomach and put your chest out—it’s posture day. MAY 4—The Senior Glee Club Concert puts music in the air. MAY 7—The Junior Dramatic Club presents three one-act plays. MAY 10—The fathers demonstrate at the Father’s Frolic what Hollywood is missing. MAY 15—More music as the Junior Glee Club upholds its fine reputation. MAY 16—Potato salad wins out at the tenth grade picnic for the seniors. MAY 17— E pluribus unum.” This signifies the number of words known by many at the Latin program. MAY 17—Today we nominate seniors for the Trustees’ Award. MAY 17—The P.T.A. gives a farewell tea for the seniors. MAY 21—The polls are open and the League election is on. MAY 28-JUNE 1—Knowledge pours out of our craniums as we head for final exams! JUNE 4—The school year draws to an impressive close as we all go to League Day at Northrop. JUNE 5—Pull out your handkerchief and put on a smile—Commencement is here, and it’s farewell to the Class of 1945. JUNE 6—The school year waltzes out at the Junior-Senior Prom. 46 SliittJinx: Cynthia Gamble, Sinclair Vinton, Sydney Young, Mary Cardie. Su annc Fait, Georgia Beaverton. Su annc DuToit, Judy Vinton, Nancy Viegand, Betsy Crosby, Priscilla Adams, Sally Ankeny, Kathryn McRae, Joan Vurtelc. SeitcJ: Mary Vurtcle, Norma Rit , Jane Thomas, Jean Dunn, Jean Guthrie. jHeacjMe Council The Northrop League Council is made up of the League officers and the presidents of classes seven through twelve. In addition, this year each class has a non-voting Council representative, who attends the meetings and brings in suggestions. The League Council meets bi-monthly to discuss new business and to hear the reports of the vice presidents. The League undertook two new services this year. Whenever an emergency faculty meeting was called during school hours, School Procedure Committee members were prepared to supervise home rooms and study halls. A non-profit second-hand book store was started this spring to help redistribute text-books now difficult to obtain. Results of the War Chest drive, the War Loan drive, and the Red Cross drive given by the Public Relations Committee indicated a successful year. We feel that the fine coordination of the League functions is due to the splendid leadership of the League president, and to the kind assistance of Miss Spurr and Miss Pease. President—Jane Thomas Vice President in charge of School Procedure—Jean Guthrie Vice President in charge of Public Relations—Susan Ervin Vice President in charge of Athletics—Mary Wurtcle Vice President in charge of Publications—Judy Winton Secretary—Norma Ritz Treasurer—Priscilla Adams Assistant Treasurer—Sidney Young 47 Back row: Carolyn Evcntcn, Fli abcth Lehman, Marjorie Fink. Gertrude O’Donnell, Helen Prucs, Sheila Strong, Ruth Harper. Second row: Judy Barker, Janet Chandler, Georgia Beaverson, Marion Morse, Joan Dalrymple, Sinclair Winton, Joan Potter, Kilecn I.ahitT. Front row: Sally Wheeler, Peggy DesRochcrs, Florence Eggleston, Jean Wiegand, Diane McDonald, Diane Fait. Absent: Frances Leslie, Mary Stilson, Helen Tcarsc. EenloA. Qlee. Club The Senior Glee Club (composed of about twenty-six members) under the direction of its new leader, Miss Lucille Rochlus, has assisted the chapel services every Monday and Wednesday morning, and performed at school functions throughout the year. Their first appearance at the Thanksgiving service was a propitious one; and at Christmas they combined with the Junior Glee Club in suitable music for the pageant. Their next two appearances were at Open House and the Easter service. May fourth was the date of the annual concert. Miss Rochlus planned a varied program sung by the club and by the Senior Ensemble, a group composed of those members of the Glee Club who arc seniors. Soloists had ample opportunity on that evening, and this year for the first time two girls gained the experience of accompanying. Their performance at the Commencement exercises will complete the work of this year, a well-rounded one, thanks to the patience and effort of their director, and to the enthusiasm of their president, Marge Fink. 48 Top: Karen Gamble, Carla Skcllctt, Molly Rand, Hazel Burton, Joan McBride, I.ouiie I IctTcIfin.ccr, Lillian Farnand. On thr flairs: Martha Brown, Harriet Dayton, Sally Warner, Mimi Bennett, Katherine Buck-land, Jane Hotchkiss, Marilyn MeGandy, Ann Worthington, Harriet Sutton, Mitzi Rice, Helen Winion, Carolyn Thoma , Nancy Burnett, Barbara Nichols, Betty Bjorknian, Kathrun Harper, Nancy Stillman, Sally Pierce, Elizabeth Bradley, Jean Neil ton, Marnic MacMillan, Cynthia Ross, Rhoda Glad. fjuttiosi Qlee Club This year the Junior Glee Club has contributed much to the school. It first appeared publicly when it began singing in the chapel service on Tuesday and Friday mornings Its first major appearance was at the Thanksgiving service. Carols sung by the members of the club, in cooperation with the Senior Glee Club, were in the Nativity program which was given during the Christmas season. On May fifteenth, under the capable direction of Miss Rochlus, the club gave its annual concert, with Harriet Sutton as an accompanist, and with Gloria Rice contributing a violin solo. The Junior Glee Club’s officers for this year were Sally Warner, president, Mary Rclf, secretary, and Katherine Buckland, treasurer. 49 7he. 'Tbnximatic QUcL The final curtain, which ended the play, Murder in a Nunnery, also ended the spotlight performance of the year for the Senior Dramatic Club. Gifts of appreciation were given to Miss Cram and to George Fried and Pat Ryan, Jr. The two boys did a remarkable job—each taking two parts. In all modesty the club accepted the high praise of the audience. On February 19, the Club was proud to present to the school Miss Anne Sim ley, who gave a moving interpretation of Mama's Dank Account. All the activities of the group this year seemed to be on the humorous side, but the height of the ridiculous was reached when Marge Campbell, Betty Ross, and Helen Tcarsc entertained the school and their guests at Open House with A Marriage Proposal by Anton Chekov. The Junior Dramatic Club staged a group of one-acts late in the spring which were The Florist SJx p by Winifred Hawkridge, Girls Must Talk by Paul Grantt, and Little Immortal by Elizabeth Wchner. 50 JatU L 2aa ic£ Judy Winton ..................................... Genevieve Fowle ------- Suzanne DuToit, Mary Stilson - Jean Wiegand - -- -- -- - Stanley Brooks - -- -- -- - Editor-in-chief Business Manager Assistant Editors Senior Division Snap-shots COPY AND MAKE-UP Margery Campbell Marjorie Hayes Eileen LahiflF Catherine Tetzlaff Miss Kinnaird Miss Bain - Deborah Nunan Miriam Harrison Molly Rand Caroline Cole Editorial Adviser - - Business Adviser 51 The athletic program, again a full one this year, began in the fall with hockey. The season was climaxed with a class tournament won by the seniors, and by a Blue and White varsity game. Riding on Friday afternoons at Campstool Ranch proved to be a very popular sport this fall. This winter our skating rink was in good condition for many weeks, and on Friday afternoons we were able to have many skating parties as well as skiing at Glenwood Park when the weather was favorable. The seniors won the class basketball championship, and the Blue team, which was later defeated by the faculty team in an exciting game, won the varsity game. In the spring we played softball with the same final games—a class tournament and a Blue and White competition. A Field Day for the whole school and faculty, and our annual tennis tournament completed the athletic program of the year. The school sincerely thanks Miss Shoemaker and Miss DeVries for their attentive work and interest in the athletics of N.C.S. this year. 52 Now where’s my date?” Left: Who is that young puh’son?” Right: Pause while Bud Strawn draws CIO H14 N2 from violin case. Fireside chat. Temptation, Patty? Play, and the world plays with you; study, and you study alone. A lesson from Mmc. Lazon- ga- Size 9 2 C. cM-aue. you Head Whittle 7aa I was a new kid, and Lincoln High is a plenty big place. It’s big and it’s got spirit, and it was awful new to me, coming from the Academy. Oh, sure, we’d had a certain spirit there, too, but it was different. It was a sort of a friendly loyalty, and we were all very calm and collected about it. This spirit at Lincoln was a big, wild thing that got you all hepped up and excited. It was made of cheering and laughing and bands and floppy shoes and loud colors and kids finding out all of a sudden what a good time they had being together and being young, I guess. That sounds like mush; I probably read it somewhere, but you know what I mean. It sent shivers up and down me it was so wonderful, but I was scared, too. I was a new kid and all this seemed to be rushing right by me and tramping me down before I could get caught up to it. It got me scared. School had been going on for about a week when 1 first saw Pete McCloud. I was having one of my afternoon sessions with Miss Barrows, who was trying to get me caught up to History 10 by stufling me full of a bunch of unconnected facts. Miss Barrows and I didn’t hit it off too well from the start. In the first place, I am primarily a mathematician, and things like history and English and Latin bore me. So far I seem to have gotten through them, but always in a sort of a half-flunked condition which is harrowing to say the least. The teachers and I are always having conferences to try to understand each other,” and Mom and Dad are always kind of tense over me and my marks. It’s an awful waste of time. Well, anyway, Miss Barrows didn’t like me, and 1 knew it. She thought I was dull because I never asked questions. She liked questions. It sort of proved we weren’t asleep. Then she always acted like I was keeping her from a date with the King of Persia when she had to stay after school with me. I didn’t like her, but I took it, being the kind of a person who does. We didn’t have women teachers at the Academy, and I wasn’t used to it. She was droning on about the American Revolution or something when Pete walked in. 1 had heard about Pete. He was pretty popular with all the kids, but I didn’t know him, and he didn’t know me. There’s always a big gap between the seniors and the rest of the school. 1 never knew why until this year when I got to be a senior myself. Pete was editor of the newspaper and Lincoln’s best athlete and the idol of every girl in the school from the sixth grade up. They’d allah” him until it made you almost sick to see them. But I could sec what got ’em. Pete was tall and tan and thin— but not too thin; he was hard as iron. He had white teeth and smooth skin and lots of black hair. One piece of hair was always falling in his face, and when it did he’d toss his head and brush it back with his long hand. When he walked down the hall he’d whistle with his head back. He acted sort of away from it all, but he was friendly, too. He was smart. That big, slow smile, too. I could sec what got ’em. I knew that was the kind of thing girls went for because they sure never went for me, and I’m just the opposite kind of a guy. I am no lily. I have straight hair, the kind of complexion you have to constantly drink potions for and stop eating chocolate, and people say I look as if someone had taken me at both ends and pushed me together which gives me that round-in-thc-middle-tapcrcd-at-thc-ends-look. I wear glasses, too, which I am practically blind without, and which make my eyes look like hard little marbles sticking out from my head. No. they sure don’t go for me like they went for Pete. Gosh, even Miss Barrows, who is darn near forty, pricked up her cars and her eyes and the corners of her mouth when Pete walked in. He just gave her one of those big, slow smiles and said something about his theme being late because of football practice. Miss Barrows opened her mouth to say something, then looked at me and said something else, something like. 56 All right, Peter, but I am afraid this will slightly lower your grade,” me knowing darn well she wouldn’t. She gave him a stern look which sort of faded into a quick, chummy smile, and then it disappeared, remembering me again. Pete said, O.K. Sure,” and walked out. Miss Barrows watched the door until it shut, then set her face and started off again. I sat there wondering how a guy like that could do it. All men are created equal,” droned on Miss Barrows. Therefore—” The heck,” I muttered. 1 went home that night and looked in the mirror and pulled my stiff hair over my face and practiced pushing it back like Pete did. The heck,” I said. After that I noticed more and more how Pete ran everything and everybody. He didn’t act like he was running them, though. You didn't know it unless you thought about it for a while. He knew how to go about getting what he wanted, but he didn’t come out and tell anybody what to do. He was awful swell to the kids who followed him around, and they liked that. I guess Pete did too. I would’ve. He knew they liked him, but he was too smart to show it. He’d go whistling down the hall pushing that piece of hair back and tossing his head like a wild horse. He knew they liked him, and he felt pretty safe about it. There were plenty of times 1 wished I was Pete. 1 passed him once and he said, Hi, boy,” to me. I felt pretty proud and pretty good. Friday night I went to the football game. We were playing Hennepin on our field. 1 hadn’t gone out for football. I don’t know, I guess I’d never been much good. It never seemed worth it to go in there and get beat up. I wasn’t the type. Besides I was lousy, and I would’ve made a fool of myself. I wasn’t the kind of a guy any team wants. That Friday though, 1 wished I was in there. All the kids were yelling like mad for our team. Gosh, even 1 was yelling. I felt pretty good. Pete was in there looking plenty powerful in his jersey with those big shoulders and long legs. Hennepin made a touchdown in the first five minutes of the game, and then Pete let loose and went to town. The way he wiggled through that Hennepin line was something wonderful to sec. He was the whole team. The girls in the stands all screamed and hit each other when he did something special. All the girls looked sort of alike to me. Their hair was the same, and they talked the same, and they all had on slacks with their coats over ’em and moccasins like boys wear. But anyway. I still wished I was Pete. For a while I imagined that it was me out there running wild with that pigskin, with all those kids yelling for me. It was kind of impossible. Anyway, we won the game 20 to 7. Pete’s girl was waiting for him when he came off the field. I knew her because she was in my Latin class. She was little, with red-blonde hair and a nose that went up, and a sort of pale, pointed look about her face. She looked at Pete as if she wanted to touch him only didn’t dare. What I wouldn’t have given to have a girl look at me that way! She said softly, Nice going, boy,” when he passed her. He smiled that slow smile and said, Thanks.” There was a dance in the gym after the game that night. I stagged it, or rather sat on the side and watched. Pete and his girl were there. Pete in his sweater with the L” on it, looking rugged and beat up, and his girl looking awful smart beside him. They were doing the Lindy, another thing I refused to try then. (I’m not too bad at it now, though.) I was afraid I’d trip myself, being naturally unco-ordinatcd. Pete was the best dancer there. I can’t think of anything that guy couldn’t do! He sure was the center of attention. The boys all came up and slapped him on the back, and the girls all 57 looked around the heads of the boys they were dancing with (that was kinda funny) to watch him. Pete was modest about it, though. He was smart. He never let on he knew he was pretty good. I wished I was Pete. The Tuesday after that the first copy of the Lincoln Beacon” came out. The whole sports page was about Pete, the big boy who ran circles around Hennepin with his powerful line-bucking and dazzling end-runs.” In big, black headlines were the words, McCLOUD WINS GAME FOR LINCOLN.” I read it a couple of times, pretending I was Pete and all this was about me. Gee, I’d thought about it for so long I almost answered to the name McCloud. I didn’t sec much of Pete during the next three days, and when I did see him he was sort of silent and usually alone. This was amazing for Pete to be alone, but I didn’t think too much about it. On Friday we played South, and I went to the game with a kid who wasn’t playing that game because of a bad knee. Being with him put me in a better class than if I was with the other guys like me who just plain weren’t good enough. Coach didn’t put Pete in at first. I thought he was saving him ’til things got hotter. South made a touchdown pretty quick, then missed the extra point. Then we followed up by doing the same thing. All during the first half we were tied. I thought coach would send in Pete then, but he didn’t. All the kids were yelling, We want McCloud!” But Coach wouldn’t put him in. Then South made another one and missed the kick. Still Pete sat in front of us on the bench. I could see Coach looking sorta grim, and I could see Pete sitting there stiff with his chin stuck out looking grim in a different way. I wondered. Finally 1 asked. This guy should know; he was on the team until he got hurt. Why isn’t Pete in there?” I said, being very objective about it. The guy I was with looked kinda queer and didn’t say anything for a while. Remember that story in the Beacon about Pete?” he said. Yeah,” I said. Pete wrote it.” Oh,” I said, feeling as if I’d been blown up in little pieces. That kind of a guy isn’t good for the team. Coach is trying to prove we can win a game without him, but he’s having a tough time.” Yeah,” I said. I’d been wishing I was Pete so long that it seemed as if I’d done it instead of Pete. I felt darn dejected. I sat there staring straight in front of me. I wouldn’t look at Pete. Something made me awful sore at him. I felt as if he’d let me down somehow. We made a touchdown in the last two minutes, and we kicked the extra point. The game ended that way, 13 to 12, and boy, how those kids shouted, only this time it wasn’t Pete they were yelling for. It was the team and Lincoln High. I felt that big, sweeping spirit bigger than ever, but I still felt pretty bad about Pete. There wouldn’t be much left of him after the rest of the school found out. (There wasn’t, either. They stopped following him around and laughed about him instead.) I was sort of shaky when I walked down from the bleachers, and sort of numb, too. I saw Pete’s girl standing alone at the end of the stand, shutfling her feet in the dust and looking confused. She must know about Pete, I thought. I walked by and looked at her—curiously, I guess, because she smiled and said, Hi, Jim,” to me. My heart pounded. Hi,” I said. I walked back to the street. I don’t know what made me do it, but I leaned my head back and started to whistle. All of a sudden I felt good. I wasn’t mad at Pete any more. What the heck did I care what he did! Something happy swelled up inside me, and I sighed a quick, chokcd-up sigh. Lincoln was an awful good place! JANE THOMAS, XII First Prize, Prose 58 7Ue QcUe The night was quiet, and the freshness cut my senses like a silver blade. The infinite cool was drinking up the heat that had saturated the beating day, but the pavement was still warm beneath my feet. On cither side of the street, houses that were flat and white in the yellow daylight loomed tall and ghostlike, and the sky was hidden in the branches above me. The shadows of the trees were black pools of emptiness, and with the instinct of a child fearing to sink into that darkness, I stepped across them. An almost inaudible murmur of laughter and music and forced gaity distorted by silence came to me through the open doors, and the dead palm branches crackled beneath my steps. But there was sound keen enough to break the intensity of the quiet. I felt a strange sense of something akin to selfishness in my solitude. At the end of the street I stopped and opened a small gate in the stone wall which ran along the ocean front. I felt a damp salt breeze, and the sand around me was heavy and cold. 1 heard the ocean breathe upon the shore—roar, rush, and sigh, rush, and sigh. I turned my face to the stars and wondered. The clearness after the shadows in the street made me breathlessly exuberant. The million points of light and the serene symmetry of their cold fire awed me. The wind that rumbled through the ocean and tossed the trees above my head swept across their surface, but they were still. The harmony of these heavens filled me with an unspeakable reverence. Each tiny speck of light had a pattern of its own which was part of the tremendous pattern of the whole. Why is it, when the entire universe has been our example, that there has never existed a harmony for mankind? Why has man never been able to interpret this cosmic harmony to include himself? On the horizon a single naval destroyer rose out of the sea, winked her signals, and vanished. Destroyer—the word seemed almost profane. It was something far apart from this throbbing sky and the heavy sand which held me to this star of mine. Immortality is real on nights like this when changeless sea meets changeless sky. Since time began, these things have been the same. The seasons roll around them, but they are eternal. Each spring the branch is green. Each winter it is bare. But in the spring it will be green again. Arc all the immortal things not the echoes of the same soul that lives within us? The brec7.c grew colder, and the salt air burned by breath. I turned and shut the gate and the salt winds behind me, and I walked toward home in the singing silence underneath the singing stars. JANE THOMAS, XII First Prize, Prose Winter Over the lonely trees the purpling dusk Draws close its heavy veil of winter sky, And a strange ghost world appears On the glistening surface of the wooded hill As shadows stain the snow with heavy black. Along the icy, winding country road Rattles a farmer’s bumping cart Which hastens through the darkness noisily— Leaving the cold air needle-sharp With the poignancy of silence after sound. This is the time I love— When the briskness of a busy winter’s day Melts in the austere silence of the night. And the darkness thickens swiftly, growing dense As though the air itself were freezing fast. 59 The ordinary world, the sweeping field and hill Of daytime countryside, fades and is strange. The finite bounds of earth dissolve, and there appears A mystic land which stretches out beyond the trees And, empty, waits in throbbing silence. Hue for the blinking eyelet of a star, I stand alone in this aloof expanse . . . The strangeness of the winter night descends And, holding me in spirit hands, Draws me apart from man and close to God. SUZANNE SESSIONS, X First Prize, Poetry 7lie Aocda+tclte Inside his log cabin Sam Duffy, the old mailman, awoke with an uneasy feeling; it was as if something was going to happen, and somehow he felt that it wasn’t going to be good. He pulled on his snow boots and went to the stove to warm his icy hands. He looked out of the cabin window towards the south on to the bleak snow expanse that seemed unending, stretching to the horizon. Looking northward he saw the beautiful but rugged peaks of the Alaskan Range, enveloped in snow, dazzling in the mountain sun. Duffy was an experienced mountaineer and had made many excursions in the mountains. He had come to Alaska seeking gold but found only disappointment and in order that he might be among these mountains that he had come to love, he had taken the job of mailman. He cooked a hearty breakfast of smoked grayling caught in the summer, with flapjacks and coffee to sustain his energy throughout the morning of heavy work. He tied up a bundle of sandwiches with a thermos bottle of coffee to drink on his rounds. Hearing a knock, Sam stepped to the door and opened it. In walked a robust fellow whose weatherbeaten face suggested familiarity with storm and cold. He had a mail sack whose contents it was Sam’s duty to distribute among the miners on his route. Well, how be ya, Mike?” and Sam slapped Mike cordially on the back. Fine—and you, Sam? The going up to this cabin war mighty tough. 1 made my trip today in eight hours when it usually takes me six. Quite a pack of letters has backed up over the week. Here y’arc, Sam, and be mighty careful of avalanches. I suppose that you know as well as anyone does whar’s they likely to be. but since the new snow the goings’ mighty tough.” Thanks, and don’t worry about me; see ya around these parts next week, eh.” Off trudged Harden in the deep snow to the sleigh. He started off with a crack of the whip and the familiar Mush!” Sam watched his friend disappear over the brow of the hill. The mailman drew his bench up to the table and began to sort the letters. One by one they slipped through his practiced hands, and dropped each in its respective pile. From the middle of the pile a mysterious letter appeared with thick black writing on the outside. Sam eyed it curiously. The black lettering standing boldly before'his eyes now read URGENT. TO BE DELIVERED AT ONCE DIRECTLY TO THE MANAGER!” The mailman fingered it cautiously while thinking of the possible warning enclosed. He had a fairly good idea of the contents, and if the contents were as he thought, the letter should be delivered immediately. So without further delay he started off. The sinister whiskey-jacks cackled on their perches in the pines as they watched him disappear over the brow of the hill. As he glided gracefully along there seemed to him to be a tensity in the very 60 atmosphere about him. This he regarded with foreboding. He was carrying an important and perhaps dangerous message, and it would be easy for any man to intercept him on this lonely trail four miles from camp. As he calmly considered all these details he was nearing the avalanche district, and it was up to him to keep a sharp look-out. Duffy carefully picked his trail, keeping an eye cocked on the slopes above that might avalanche. To these he gave a wide berth. As he labored up the pass he wondered what could be in the mysterious letter. He contemplated opening it but he could not for it was government property. He recently, on his last trip up to the mine, had heard a rumor that there was a gang of miners taking the high grade gold ore for themselves. Yes, high-graders, that was what Steve had said. It would very likely be true, for he had heard it before. There might be a chance of meeting up with them. Sam had no way of telling whether or not they knew of the warning letter. It was now too late to turn back if these crooks knew of the warning letter and were going to intercept him. When he realized his predicament he skied faster than ever. High-graders! His heart pounded as he thought of his possible fate. Suddenly an explosion shattered the silence. A cloud of snow burst forth as the avalanche roared madly down the slope, an angered monster, consuming everything in its path. Down, down—it could be heard for miles, that menacing roar, like that of an enormous waterfall. The ground trembled as in an earthquake; an icy blast of wind, more violent than any hurricane, preceded it. A tongue of the racing snow flicked towards Sam, and licked him up, and careened down the valley. Then silence. «• ''I’ve been worried about Sam lately; he hasn’t come for two weeks. Funny—he couldn’t have been stopped by a blizzard because there hasn’t been any. And nothing but a blizzard stops Sam. He’s as tough as a wolverine.” The manager rose from his desk and peered anxiously through the window. I think I’ll investigate.” Going by yourself, sir?” asked the skeptical bookkeeper. When will you be back?” I don’t know; just as soon as possible.” The bookkeeper looked at him qucstioningly while getting the manager’s snow-shoes out. The manager rounded the shoulder of the pass. Alarmed, he gazed at the spectacle that met his eye. Avalanche!” he muttered under his breath. Yes—avalanche. I’ve never known one to come down here.” Scarcely believing his eyes he pushed towards its broken surface, and looked around. At the far side of the avalanche’s trail he saw Sam’s ski tracks, scarcely visible for the wind blown snow filled them. Looking back at the near side he saw as he expected no tracks coming out. Plodding down the wake he saw a ski pole and not far from it a black mitt. Must have been Sam all right; he wore those kind of milts. Poor Sam!” As he turned homeward his eye caught a piece of canvas. He made his way over to it, and pulled it out of the snow. It was Sam’s mail sack. Rummaging through it, he found a neatly tied bundle of letters. These he inspected. His eyes met the heavily inscribed letter. He opened it, half fearing the contents. It was a warning from his friend, Inspector Morrison at Dawson, to be on the alert for high-graders. Stolen gold was appearing in the bar rooms of the town. With his mind overcast by somber thoughts he went back to the mine. There he lifted the phone receiver, and was connected with Inspector Morrison of the Mounted Police. Hello, Morrison. This is the manager of the Golden Anchor mine up the valley. I suspect some dirty work up here. Sam Duffy, the old mailman, has been killed by an avalanche, up the valley a ways. He was carrying your letter warning about the high-graders.” Yes, go on,” said Morrison. That avalanche could not have started of itself.” 61 You mean that ...” Right—that’s what I think. That slope has never slid before. I knew that there were rumors in camp about high-grading, but I didn’t believe them. Well, I’m stumped; I wish you’d come up here, but stay off the trail, and go over the summit of the mountain, so that nothing will be suspected.” Righto—I’ll be leaving in ten minutes.” The manager felt relieved as he hung up. It was now three o’clock, and he thought that the inspector would be coming about seven-thirty. He awaited Morrison’s arrival with anticipation. The inspector was bronzed, tall, and young, but wise, and nothing could stump him. He had tackled many cases before, but this was the most mysterious. He was a graceful and experienced skier, and sped along seemingly without effort and soon was climbing to the summit of the mountain from which the avalanche had come. As he neared the top he saw on one side the track of the snow slide. He looked around for a clue and found some vague ski tracks, hard to distinguish in the snow. Just as I thought,” he said, satisfied. Inspecting the near vicinity he noticed a cord half buried in the snow. When uncovered it turned out to be a tell-tale length of charred dynamite fuse. Now everything was clear in his mind. Just as I thought—murder,” he repeated. Pocketing the fuse, he shot down the mountainside, in and out of the pines, on his way to the mining camp. Shortly after dusk there was a knock at the manager’s door, and in walked the tall Morrison. I’m satisfied,” he stated. I think I’ve got it. Coming up 1 found this”— taking the fuse out of his pocket. He showed the evidence to the manager. Tonight when the day shift comes out of the mine I want every man searched— and see that none escape.” Later they made their way down to the entrance of the gold mine, took their stands, and waited for the shift. Loud hilarious laughter told them that the miners were coming out. Searching every one they found nothing until the last bunch emerged. They were a tough-looking lot and very sullen. Gaining hope, Morrison searched the first one and found a pistol hidden in his vest pocket. Seeing this the inspector snapped the handcuffs on him. Out came the next man, and when he saw he was to be searched he whipped out a knife and lunged at Morrison, who without hesitation drew his gun and shot. The other high-graders, seeing their comrade fall, threw up their hands. As he had expected he found quantities of gold concealed in their clothes. MIMI BENNETT, IX Second Prize, Prose Ommutability Sculptured memories Of circling centuries Drone their monotonies, then die As time defines their petty purpose. Promises of years, Messages of tears, Chart their turbid fears, then cease As moments roll to newer ones. 62 Yet still the bended earth bows to the skies, And still the breathing mists around her rise. In up-stretched growing green she lives her prayer. Her verdant altar lays in bright despair. Clutches hollow shells of empty things. Forgets them as the winters turn to springs And their spirits mingle 'round her in the air. Block and Panting wheel. Symmetry of steel. Beneath time’s grinding heel, are crushed. Only things that God made never change. JANE THOMAS, XII Second Place, Poetry fli+vx,, WUa Saved a 1 Uf Rumble, rumble! That was the noise made by a little green truck as it rolled away to the trash heap with a load of things no one wanted any longer. There were old tin cans, a broken dime-store doll, a comic book that was torn, and other things. There was a little toy auto which had been piled with the others by mistake. He was very sad because he thought no one liked him anymore. His owner was a little boy named Bobby who always used to play with the car, and was very sad when he could not find his toy. His nurse was very careless to do such a thing, so he scolded her. Bobby and his father decided to go to the trash heap and find the little lost auto. When they were there, they looked all over but they couldn’t find the car because it was such a big trash heap. When Bobby went to bed that night, he said his prayers, and asked God to watch over his toy auto. In the meantime the auto felt worse than ever so he began to cry. He cried all that night so in the morning there was a little pool around him. When Bobby went down to breakfast he was very sad, for after breakfast he usually played with the little lost car. Bobby’s father went to work, but when he came home Bobby and his father went to the trash heap again to see if they might be able to find it. Alas! The little green truck had put more things on the trash heap and half a newspaper had fallen on the toy. Bobby was very distressed. He had a dog named Jinx, Jinx was a little black Scottic. He was still just a puppy. Jinx did not know why Bobby and his father always went to the trash heap. Jinx decided to go, too. So early one morning before anyone was awake, Jinx got out of his bed and went to the trash heap. There had been quite a windstorm the night before so the paper which had been over the car was blown away, and the toy auto was in plain sight. Jinx smelled the car and thought it smelled very good. He decided to take it home with him. That morning Bobby decided to play with Jinx. When he found Jinx he jumped for joy. for there was Jinx playing with his little lost toy. No one knows how or where Jinx found the auto. Jinx knows and so does the toy, and you know too. But don’t tell anyone. PHOEBE McCABE, V First Prize, Junior Group 63 7he Runaway i4.lt and Sfioau One bright, spring morning, after the dishes were washed and put away on the shelf the Spoon said to the Dish, Let’s run away today. I heard them talking about getting a new set of silverware! 1 certainly am ashamed of myself!” I heard them talking about something I didn’t like to hear either!” said the Dish angrily. They said they were going downtown to get a new set of dishes! And they say they’re very pretty! 1 don’t believe that they arc pretty. Not one bit do I believe that! What’s more, I wouldn’t believe it even if 1 did stay here to see it, so there!” If that’s the way you feel let’s go now. The folks have gone to town so we can run away right now,” said the Spoon. So they pushed open the cupboard, jumped down on the counter, then to the floor, and ran out the back door as fast as they could go, for they didn’t want the people to come back before they were out of the house and out of sight. You see, the folks that lived there didn’t have the slightest idea that a spoon and dish could walk or move unless someone carried them. They ran to the house next door where the people happened to have the same kind of silver and the same kind of plates as the Dish and Spoon. That’s why they went there. As soon as they got into the kitchen they heard someone coming downstairs. They stopped right away and the Dish lay down flat and the Spoon jumped on him. The person who was coming downstairs was Diana, the cook. When she came into the kitchen and saw the Dish and the Spoon she leaned over and scratched her head and said, My, I wonder what I was doing when 1 put that dish and spoon in the middle of the floor!” And I doubt if she’ll ever know unless she reads this story. After that the Spoon and the Dish never ran away any more. JANET CAMPBELL, V Second Prize, Junior Group My SaJeAt cMidiny Place Though the river was just across the street, 1 had never really seen it. Only vaguely I knew it was there, for Father had held me up once for a glimpse, but otherwise I was quite oblivious to its existence. And yet even when I was very little, I was drawn strangely toward it. So one day 1 ventured across the road. I had been told many stories about naughty children who, crossing the street alone without the aid of a grown-up,” had been smashed to death under the wheels of a huge truck, but I was sure they weren’t true, and so I slowly scuffed across the street while cars waited and honked impatiently. The bank of the river was bordered by a string of little black and white posts connected to each other with a metal rope which I soon found to my intense delight I could swing on. It was already April, and drops of rain clung to the new green leaves. I ran fast— faster along the path above the river. When I looked down, I saw the trees clustering and whispering together and the long white branches of the birches, like pointed fingers, were dappling the water. I climbed over the posts and walked slowly down. The land gradually sloped. There was one large tree with a fat thick branch which hung over the river. Quickly I ran down to it. Here the land stopped, like a small cliff. Slowly I climbed onto the branch and crawled along it gripping tightly with my knees. It 64 was deliciously thrilling. And then I stopped and perilously adjusted myself to a sitting position. Far beneath me the river lay shining in the sunshine. Great chunks of white ice were floating down stream with the current in a solemn, stately procession. A cold wind blew across my legs. 1 shivered and then sat tensely still. 1 was acutely conscious of being happier than I thought 1 had ever been before. I was sitting all alone far away from the noisy highway, far out over the sparkling water which moved languidly beneath me like a great majestic lady whose throne extended down to New Orleans. I shivered again, for everything was so excitingly beautiful. For a long time I sat there stiffly straight, and then I crawled slowly back along the branch till I came again to the tree itself. The sun was high in the sky already, and 1 knew it was lunchtime. Half of Saturday was nearly over. But after lunch 1 would come back and bring a book with me. Anxiously, my hand explored the foot of the tree. It was hollow and made a hole large enough to hide everything in that I wanted no one else to sec, all my secret things. And no one could ever find them. So I hurried home, and, while my mother lengthily expostulated on the many dangers of crossing streets. I wondered what she would say if she had seen me climbing out on the branch over the river. When summer came and there was no school, I went to my tree hiding place almost every day. Sometimes I stayed for only a few moments and sometimes for a long time. Hidden in the hole were all sorts of wonderful things. I had lined the floor inside with soft green moss. In the attic I had found a cigar box with a picture of a dark-haired, white-toothed Spaniard with a red spangled robe fighting a malicious bull. Underneath this elegant picture, which fascinated me, were the words, EL MATADOR deluxe cigars 100% Havana filled five cents each and then in very tiny words not guaranteed. I often wondered whether it meant they were not guaranteed to be Havana filled or five cents each, and even now I can clearly remember the romantic face and red blossomy lips of El Matador. Inside the box were many things. There was a cheap melon-colored ribbon which I had found in a valentine once, and a little package of red candies shaped as mice and frogs and pigs which I had thought too pretty to cat. One very hot day late in August they had melted into one sticky, shapeless lump. Grieving at this mishap. I finally, reluctantly, dropped them down into the river. Later in the winter I wrote a long poem for my little brother about the mice and frogs and pigs and their adventures as they sailed in their cellophane boat. over frosty seas of sea-foam greens down to sunny New Orleans. There was also in the box a collection of pictures of Shirley Temple found in magazines and newspapers, and four little thick, paper-covered books with photos and the story of her life which I had bought at the ten-ccnt store. Ever since 1 had seen my first movie, she was the idol of all my dreams. I had one picture which I had enclosed in a little brown wooden frame which I treasured especially. It was colored and displayed most charmingly her baby smile and her tiers of bobbing curls. And there was a little agate marble cold and hard, which changed colors in the sunlight. I had acquired this in a rather unusual way. One rainy Monday morning in November when I was only seven, I had a cold and stayed home from school. (Or anyway I was supposed to have a cold.) I sat on the piano bench and looked out the front window watching the cars splashing along the streets, their headlights like glowing yellow eyes in the dimness. The world was gray and 6 J dark, and the two great oak trees in the front yard stood gaunt and black, their bare arms reaching wildly for the sky. They were almost enveloped by the rolling fog. I knew that it was eight o’clock, and if I had been going to school, I would have already gone. The house was quiet except for the ticking of the clock, the sharp fingers of rain tapping on the window, and the voices of Mary, the maid, and Mrs. Lconardson, the washerwoman, talking in the basement laundry room. I walked across the dark living room, the lonely library, and the sun-room through whose windows I could sec the back yard. The round dimple in the land, which looked as though a giantess had once pressed her fat thumb into the soft dirt there, was filled with water. I was alone in the house then except for Mary, but through the mist of the early morning which like a filmy veil covered the earth 1 saw a figure moving slowly down the driveway. It was John, the boy who lived in the next block. Cautiously I let him in the front door. The house was dusky and gloomy, but when he entered everything seemed different. Together we lit the white tapering candles in the library which reflected grotesque dancing shadows on the black walls. John had brought me a present, he said. Out of his pocket which always held all sorts of marvelous things, he brought forth the little agate. I shall always clearly remember how it felt—cold and metallic and heavy lying in the palm of my hand. Later we removed the heavy brown leaves from the dining-room table and, putting them end-to-end on the dark winding stairway, slid down screaming with excitement. But still whenever I look at that little agate marble, I can sec reflected deep in its murky depths the mystical austerity of that rainy morning. But the best thing of all which I kept in the El Matador” cigar box was the Chinese kerchief. Sitting at the end of the branch over the rippling silver water, I would spread it out on my lap. There were embroidered upon it all sorts of beautiful pictures which enraptured me. There was a beautiful black-eyed, apricot-skinned princess standing in a pool of green water. There was a spray of orchids swimming in an opalescent sea. There was a coiling snake, most frightening, quivering in the air like a candle flame and a junk boat with amber sails. But best of all was the huge face of the Buddha idol. It had a round olive-tinted cap above its cruel, leering face. Its lips were bloody purple, and its eyes were glowing gold. I used to sit happily bewitched, making faces at it. And then I would take out my favorite paper doll. Her name was Cicily, and she had lemon-colored ribbons tied around her little black braids. Her face was like a tiny, wistful pansy, and her eyes were brook-brown. She was soon bent and a little bit torn, but sometimes I thought I loved her until my heart would break. She had all sorts of wonderful adventures sailing to China in the junk on the kerchief and visiting the beautiful princess and the horrible Buddha face. It was my secret dream that some day perhaps I too could sail away. But one day I knew that it could never be more than a dream. I read, China is a land where people live in filthy poverty and miserable squalor.” But still it has always remained for me a land of wonders and mystical beauties. Even now I could happily sail away in an amber-sailed junk down a river of fragrant blossoms and have all sorts of exciting adventures. And so I hid all my treasures in the cigar box in the hollow of the tree. And I sat beside them in my warm brown cape with the pointed hood all through the year— in the spring when the winds played in my hair, in the summer evenings when the setting sun flooded the water with a crimson light, in the autumn when the russet leaves fell from the branches onto my lap, and in winter when the trees were bare and the river was a frosted silver ribbon. Sometimes I read a book while the leaves made shadowy patterns on the page. Or I wrote wishful little poems which did not always rhyme and stories I soon lost. But sometimes I just sat on the branch and played with my treasures. And when it was time to go, I put them all away into the mossy hollow inside the trunk of the tree where I knew they would never be found, and climbing quickly off the branch, I scuffed happily homeward from my safest hiding place over the river. EMILY UPGREN, X Third Place, Prose 66 2ue iio t Tell me, black man, what do you think of them, Your white brothers? It is said that you are bitter— Filled with pain and hatred. Why should this be so? Is theirs the guilt of forefathers Who stretched covetous hands down to the Congo And drew you up out of African jungles Into bonds of slavery? But yet remember! The sons of these men, remorseful. Fought for your liberty, died for your liberty. And sent you into the world—free. The white man took pity on you lying shackled In your chains, and granted you God’s greatest gift of freedom. What matter that with this freedom Came not understanding? What matter that with this freedom came the yoke Of intolerance and prejudice? Bitterness should not be yours Although the world be hostile! It is not the fault of white man That your skin is black. White man’s blood bought your freedom. Dare you ask for more? Tell me now, black man, what you think. Arc you not grateful to your white brothers For that freedom? SUZANNE SESSIONS, X Honorable Mention Mamie I can remember just as clearly when I first knew. It was a spring day, and there was an earthy smell in the air. We sloshed our rubbers through the melting snow, and stopped to kick open a dam Joan's little brother had made in the melting furrows of the alley. Ruthic threw a snowball at a tree. OT Hitler,” she said. ’’Isn’t it awful what Hitler is doing to the Jews—Joan nudged me, and I stopped. An icicle splintered behind us. A whisper in my car. ’’Mamie’s Jewish.” I looked at Marnic. She was laughing about something. I turned away quickly. What did it mean? Something was different. I could see my father at the table, cutting a piece of roast beef as he said, It’s the Jews have a corner on it.” Then someone started a snow-ball fight. We used to come home from school the same way every day. We'd go by the Besscr candy store, and someone would always buy a Cracker-Jack, for the whistles, or, when a nickel wasn’t available, some penny gum with pictures on the wrapper. Then we cut through the Douglas’ back yard, and would look through the garage window at the electric car. Sometimes we would wait to see old Mr. Douglas polish it, as though he were stroking a dog. We were really sorry when Joan's little brother broke one of the windows, for Mr. Douglas’ sake. We didn’t cut through so much after that. 67 From Douglas’ we came out into the alley, and turned down Hawthorne Avenue where Joan and Ruthie lived. Wc came to Joan’s first, and then we reached the vacant house on the corner. We played there in the afternoon because it had a big driveway in back, with walls to stop the balls. I don’t know if it was really haunted, but wc never played there after dark. Most of the time after school, especially in winter, we went to Joan’s. She lived in a yellow house with a big front porch. Wc played jacks and card games in her basement, and Joan’s mother brought us cookies. One day it started to rain when wc reached Joan’s; so we played jacks. I had just reached fast downs with Marnie when someone said, I think we ought to have a club. Geraldine and Polly have a club, and it’s lot more fun.” That started it. We all got excited. First wc chose our president—Marnie. I guess it was because she always seemed a little older. I was secretary. Then wc chose red for a color. Joan wanted blue and silver, but Ruthie and 1 wanted red. I don’t remember what Marnie wanted. 1 don’t think she said. Our bird was the cardinal, and we even had a code. I made it up. because that made us a secret club, but I doubt if it was ever used. Wc had meetings every Tuesday, usually at Joan’s. When we decided to enlarge the club, wc had trouble, because some of us didn’t like the new people. It was Ruthie who suggested Molly Page. Joan said, Oh, no. She’s a snob.” I guess you’re a snob yourself if you won’t let her in.” I don’t care what you say. Anyway, she wears lipstick.” I didn’t think I liked Molly very well, anyway. I wondered what Marnie would say. She always said nice things. She laughed, “Well, I’ve worn lipstick.” I looked at her. She had a fragile forehead and large, distant eyes. 'A poet,” I thought. Molly Page joined the club, and was lots of fun. She was the one who thought of the sleigh ride at Christmas, and invited us to her summer home in spring vacation. Marnie didn’t go. I asked her why, but she only flushed and said, I just can’t. I have to stay home, I mean. I’m awfully sorry.” • Joan said her parents wouldn’t let her go. That seemed funny. The next year wc didn’t meet so often. Ruthie had gone away to school, and Joan and I were in the church choir. The Sunday School was always doing things that took time. Besides wc were in different home rooms when we left grade school, and didn’t sec each other so much. Sometimes I would sec Marnie in the hall with people 1 didn’t know. She always seemed a little embarrassed. When spring came, and vacation drew near, wc were all excited about the elections for the American Legion Award. The award was given to the girl and boy who were the most all-around and whom wc most admired. It was more important than the Student Council elections, because everyone thought the Student Council a drudge anyway, and no one paid much attention to it. The Legion Award was really an honor, though, and this was the first year our grade could vote for our choice. We were going to vote on Tuesday for nominations, and I thought about it all the way home Monday. Everyone was rather quiet; the others were probably thinking about it, too, because Mr. Forbes, the principal, had had a special assembly about it just before wc went home. We were having a special club meeting to plan for our last party which was to take place the next day. When wc reached Joan’s, we decided to go on to the empty house and meet in the yard. It was one of those days when a mad freedom grips you 68 and you want to go off by yourself and cry out for joy, and embrace the earth. The yard had gone wild; vines, bushes, tall grass, and flowers freely blossomed like a rich tropical jungle. We sat on the grass, embarrassed by our own silence. I watched Marnie as she leaned back on the grass, the emotion of the scene reflected in her face, which 1 could just see. Several of the other girls began to talk, and took off their shoes to wade in the grass. I spoke to Joan, who was sitting next to me. 1 want Marnie to win the award.” She’s not the type.” I thought about that. Marnie was shy, a little different, but somehow she seemed finer than anyone I could think of. She was just the person Mr. Forbes had been talking about. A shout broke into my thoughts. Come on, you’re it for tag.” The next day we had an assembly just before dismissal to announce the candidates for the award. The auditorium was filled with talking, laughing students, whom we could hear as we sat near the front. Mr. Forbes approached the stage, and the talking was hushed. I waited for Mamie’s name. She was not mentioned. I didn’t see Marnie as we left the auditorium, buzzing with discussion of the candidates. As I left the school after dismissal, I didn’t take the usual route, but went out of the way, down Whittier Avenue, because I didn’t want to see the club girls and talk about the nominations. As 1 turned the next corner, I saw Marnie ahead of me. For a moment I considered turning back, but she wouldn’t know what 1 was thinking, and probably wouldn’t even mention the nominations. Marnie,” I called. I ran up to her. Say, wait!” She wasn’t turning down Hawthorne. Aren’t you going to the club party?” She turned. I was startled by her face, which was unusually pale. Her eyes and mouth were narrow. I hate your club. I hate that fat nosey Joan and silly Molly. I hate ...” She turned away, and began to run. SUSAN ERVIN, XII Honorable Mention Ml6Ae, My -2) oy Missc, my dog. Sat around like a log. Missc, my dog, was awfully sweet. She would follow a dog by the name of Fete. Then one day A man took her away. Missc, my dog, has gone away. Gone away, forever and a day. PHOEBE McCABE, V Honorable Mention Qeitiny Ready tyosi cA,tesi Easter is in the air, Lilacs are in bloom, Everywhere the birds are singing The lovely Easter tunc. The church is being painted, The park is being cleaned, Everything will be more beautiful, For the lovely Easter time. BARBARA DICKEY, V Honorable Mention 69 Pnalacju Now once there was a time, long, long ago, When one could freely travel to and fro. Of schedules a person took no heed, Because, in truth, for that there was no need. But things are now not what they were before, Alas to say, our country is at war. Gone are the tires on which the nation rolled, And gasoline is rare as liquid gold. ’Tis why a serious problem did arise, For country folk a method must devise To get to town, and yet there seemed no way For those whose cards were lettered with an A. The people thought, What’s to become of us?” So to the rescue, the Deephaven bus. Now it is none too spacious, nor too wide, There arc just thirty seats on the inside. But when there is a heavier demand, There’s room for thirty-one or so to stand. The ride will never cease to interest me, So many different people one docs see. Now I shall tell you of a few who strive To catch the bus that leaves at half-past five. The Bankers Wife- Up near the front, in stylish coat and hat And furs, a rather plumpish woman sat. Her face was stern, not ever known to grin, And I should say she had more than one chin. Upon her cheeks a little rouge was there, But not too much. She didn’t dye her hair, ’Twas just a little rinse. It didn’t show, And very few her real age did know. When better circumstances did allow, She would be driven in her car—but now Her tires were worn; and hardest to endure, The army had just drafted her chauffeur. If any of her friends should see her thus While riding on a common omnibus, Oh! She would die of shame. Yet she Could not afford to miss the social tea. I smiled to see upon her face a frown When at her side a farmer sat him down. A string of pearls around her neck she wore And rings upon three fingers, maybe more. The Business Man— Now at the back, there sat an older man, Whose bored expression showed ’twas not his plan To take the bus. But it must be, for he Is not in an essential industry. He’d not look up to watch the passing views, His interest was upon the latest news He read, which he would never drop. From the time he got on until his stop. He may love truth and honor but I swear Concerning chivalry he doesn’t care, For surely it would be a great surprise 70 If, for a lady, from his seat he’d rise. With black mustache and slightly graying hair, He did possess most dignified an air. Well tailored was his suit and a fine tie He wore. There was no kindness in his eye. For very cold and too reserved was he, At least that's how it did appear to me. The Student— A scholar was there in this company Upon whose face were signs of misery. Her arms were full of books, a heavy weight. She rose up early and she studied late. Her life had once been full of gaity. But now she had to pass an S.A.T. And realizing what was to be learned, To serious books and papers she had turned. She wore a shapeless uniform and tie, And circles had she underneath each eye. Her lips were pale, her hair not trained to curl, Twas plain to see, she was a Northrop girl. The White Collar Worker— There also was, as I do recollect. The working girl whom heaven will protect. Her face was pretty, but I think that she Had made it up a bit too heavily. She was quite young, about nineteen I'd say, And had to get up early everyday To be at work on time and not be fired. Tis why each night she was so very tired That very often she would fall asleep. Although she tried so hard awake to keep. Upon her lap she held a few small things Which she had bought. A pair of navy wings Was pinned upon her blouse. She looked quite neat, With saddle shoes and anklets on her feet. For with her income small she liked to try To save the stockings now so hard to buy. The War Worker— A man was speaking of the fact that he A riveter was learning how to be. Because a uniform he could not don, His denim overalls he had put on. He wore his badge with pride and in his hand He held his dinner pail. His face was tanned. His hair, quite thin, he combed across the spot Where he was growing bald. He talked a lot Of fishing. For he knew many ways To catch the limit in the secret bays Which other fishermen would never try And he could make a very expert fly. 71 The House Wife— A house wife, who had spent the day in town, Was very tired from walking up and down From store to store. Now this was the one day When from her household chores she’d run away And leave her youngest in a neighbor’s care. She was quite tall and wore her dark brown hair Pulled back and plain. She was not young, but seemed Much older than she was. For she had schemed To save their money in most every way, Because there are so many bills to pay When one has seven in the family, And lives in little more than poverty. She’d ne’er complained about the life she led. But made the very best of it instead. She made her clothes herself, and every day Would fix the left-overs a special way. However, on her holiday in town She would escape the ties which bound her down And window shop, and dream of how ’twould be, If she could have the many things she’d see. The Bus Driver— The driver, now to whom I will refer, Knows almost every single passenger By name, and where they live so very well That seldom does a person ring the bell. He wears a uniform of greenish twill And every inch of it he seems to fill, Because, if you would really like to know, He weighs three hundred fifty pounds or so. His face is round and rather red, for he Has not as much room as there ought to be Upon the driver’s scat for one his size. He has the nicest open wide grey eyes, Which slant a little bit. Now he can drive About as well as any man alive, Yet often takes such risks you wonder how He has survived to keep on driving now. But somehow, for no reason or no rhyme, He cannot seem to keep the bus on time. I wish that you would take this scenic ride Which wanders over all the countryside— With all the funny people you can see, I’m sure that sometime you’ll run into me. PRISCILLA ADAMS, XI Honorable Mention 72 On Shiincj. 0% On Shli Imagine the thrill an accomplished skier must experience as he plunges at breakneck speed downward through woods, around trees, under trees, and sometimes even over trees, without once faltering or losing confidence! It must be wonderful! But to become an accomplished skier such as this, there arc many difficult obstacles to overcome. Let us start from the beginning and see for ourselves. After outfitting yourself in the flashiest ski clothes possible—boots, the heaviest you can get; pants that are so tight you can barely sit down in them (except on the ski hill when the necessity to sit down comes upon you so fast you have no choice in the matter); sweaters, parka, mittens, socks, heavy underwear (most necessary and important); and, of course, skis and ski poles;—the first step is to climb the hill. This is done by using the herring-bone, or, in other words, walking up the hill with the heels together, and the toes pointed out, giving much the same effect as a duck. For the more fortunate ones there is the tow. The most common type of tow is the rope tow which is an endless moving rope. The object is to grab on to the rope and hang on for dear life until you reach the top, or until you arc jerked forward off balance and sent sprawling on your face in the snow. However, this is not the last time you are to be in such a position. Now that you have mastered the ascension of the hill, the next step, rather obviously, is to come down. There are several ways to come down a hill. The first way is the schuss.” or coming straight down the hill with no turns, no checking of speed, and usually no control. All one needs for this method of descent is good balance, a lot of nerve, and heavy padding in several strategic places. Also, one may come down zigzagging—turning so as to check the speed. This is the way for you. The main object in turning is to keep all your weight on the lower or downhill ski. This factor, however, is against all natural instinct, for who would deliberately throw himself downhill? But after trying hard for several hours, you find that this is the much more sensible way to turn—in fact, you find it is the only way possible to turn. And, after discovering this fact and putting it into practice for awhile, you feel very self-confident, and then you begin to feel a little over-confident. For, after making what you consider several fairly decent turns (anybody else’s opinion doesn’t count) you want to try bigger and higher hills, and maybe even a trail or two. The next thing you know, you find yourself standing at the top of the most difficult trail. This trail is commonly known as the Rattlesnake Trail” and you arc soon to find out that it is all that its name connotes. There you are, dressed fit-to-kili in your fancy ski clothes, 3nd eager to show off your expert” turns that you have just learned on the practice slope. You’re off! But instead of skillfully zooming between and around the trees as you had so vividly pictured yourself, you find, all of a sudden, that you are straddling the biggest tree you have even seen. When you have partially come to your senses, you find that your leg is not able to function at all normally, and not only that, but it also seems to be bent in a very peculiar angle—much worse than usual. In an instant the ski patrol is at your side, and much to your dismay and embarrassment, you are carefully hauled off on a toboggan. What an anti-climax to all your expectations! But now you lie peacefully (and, happily to say, safely) in your hospital bed, looking mournfully, but somewhat proudly at your skiing souvenir, a heavy cast on your right leg. And you still can image the thrill an accomplished skier must experience as he plunges at break-neck speed downward, ever downward. MARY WURTELE, XII Honorable Mention 75 7be Rcvjt The salty waves surged on with an endless motion, rocking the small board to which three men were clinging. The sun burning down on them blistered their faces. Their few clothes, little more than rags, clung to their arms and legs like wrappings of a shroud and. thought Pete, they probably will be my shroud. Clutching the board more securely, he turned to Joe, the negro cook: I sure would like some of your Southern fried chicken now. That’s all I can think about!” “Yeah,” agreed Art, except it’s probably at the bottom of the ocean along with everything else, so you’ll have to have salt water and like it.” That storm sho were the Devil hisself! In all my years at sea Ah’vc never seen one to beat it.” You remember that other trip we were on together with Captain Morgan, Joe? Art asked. Even that storm wasn’t so bad . . . and remember Willie Kuck, the second mate who was alw'ays cracking jokes? He got lost in that storm—d’you suppose he could’ve survived?” Or a double banana split from Frankie’s drug store on the corner.” Pete was the youngest of them, this had been his first trip and he’d been homesick all during it. Or even just a cold glass of water,” he moaned. For the love of God, Pete, can’t you stop talking about food and w'ater? Talking won’t get us any—it only makes it worse. Art moved his shoulders uneasily. They were silent after that, each thinking his own thoughts, until Joe said he’d heard a humming sound. You’re just going crazy sooner than the rest of us.” Pete laughed, and I thought T’d be the first one.” Shut up, listen. He’s right! It sounds like a plane. They strained their eyes in every direction, but all they could see was blue sky and water. Pete looked away with despair. It won’t see us. We aren’t that lucky.” They listened until the hum died away, each realizing how unlikely it was that they would be saved and wondering what it was like to starve or drown. Suddenly Pete winces and cried out in pain. My foot! What’s matter?” Joe turned frightened eyes on him. Oh Lawd, is it a shark o’ somethin’?” A cramp—its bending my foot back in two. Do something!” Try moving or kicking hard—don’t stay still,” Art told him. Get your foot warm and the blood back in it and you’ll be okay.” Pete swam a few feet out and back, kicking violently. He grabbed the board and said in a relieved tone, It’s gone but my foot’s still numb. In the concern over Pete’s cramped foot, they hadn’t noticed something white on the water a few feet away. Joe saw it first and shouted, Look, ovah thcr’!” A raft! And maybe food,” Art exclaimed, hurry—get it!” Can yo’ mak’ it ovah thcr’ awright?” Joe asked Pete. Here, Ah’ll help yo ” Joe pushed the board, with Pete’s help, over to the raft, while Art swam ahead to get a hold of it. They grabbed the rubber raft, forgetting the board which was swept away by the next wave. Where could it come from? Pete asked. Maybe dc good Lawd done seen us and sent it down to save us.” It’s probably from our ship. There were some on it, you know.” The plane could’ve seen us and dropped it. And—and that means it would come back and we’d be saved! Pete stated each word slowly, deliberately, in an apparent effort to convince himself. Don’t be stupid! We couldn’t even see the plane so how could they see us? It’s part of the boat—all that’s left—and we’II make the best of it. Art said it rather desperately as if he were afraid the raft would be his doom rather than his salvation. 74 Ah’ll see if it’s got any food,” said Joe already searching the lining. We can’t all fit in there—it’s only meant for one person—possibly two could get in,” Pete told Art in a lowered tone. Art answered nothing but his eyes went slowly from Joe, who was examining the raft, and met Pete’s. Pete looked at him and saw Art’s eyes as cold, hard, determined. Suddenly he understood. Oh no,” he gasped in a whisper, that would be ” With a quick, deft movement Art got behind Joe, clasped his hands tightly around his neck, and with all his strength held him under water. Hurry, for God’s sake—get the dagger at my left side and hit the heart.” Pete stared at him blankly for a split moment, then, as if in a trance, did what he was told. The knife unhooked easily. He grasped it and lifted a tense arm with eyes shut tight. Hurry. Hit the heart.” Thou shalt not kill.” Me or him—black or white. I’m young, he’s too old for life to matter. I’m justified. But—murder! Art said do it. Have to. Must. He lunged at the victim. The knife went into something and stuck. He pulled it out and lunged again. But this time the thing he hit made a hissing sound. He opened his eyes and with horror saw the raft slowly deflating. Joe’s body slipped away from Art’s grasp and floated, face down to the surface. They watched their last hope slowly sinking into the dull red water. BARBARA BARBER, IX Honorable Mention A V(Uf.a je ajj tytieedom This story is about several foreigners who were coming to this country on a boat and banded together for moral support. There weren’t many, maybe six or seven. They were all from different countries but could all speak a sort of broken English except for one old man. He was a Dutchman traveling with his son. Whenever he had anything to say he would tell his son and his son would translate it to the others. This Dutchman was very old and wrinkled but very kind-hearted. He had to be patient because he couldn’t talk with the others so well. He was a very simple man anyway. There were others, too. There was a little old lady who was quite set in her ways and always carried a book under her arm. Whether she read it or not we don’t know. Another thing was that she was always recollecting things to tell and insisted upon telling them to anyone who would listen. However, she was a good story-teller, because she seemed to have been everywhere. She, by the way, was from England and insisted on having her afternoon tea, on time. There was another man, too, that I thought I must tell you about. He was a young man from Denmark who was going to America to mine coal, yet he was very gentle in his ways. He had an unusual hobby of making ships in bottles. He was very much disturbed at having to give up his hobby while on the boat because of the lurching. He was tall and big boned and it would seem quite impossible to undertake such a delicate task as making ships in bottles. Others in the group were a fat lady cook from Norway, and a young singer from Switzerland. All were becoming quite bored when the little lady from England said, I will tell you a talc of the Northern Lights.” Everyone was quite interested (for once), and while they were being seated she scanned her book as if to look for facts of the talc. When she was satisfied that everyone was listening she started. This is how it went: Once when I was visiting my Grandpa in Norway, it was nearing Christmas and everyone was running errands and buying gifts. There was a little girl about twelve who lived with her father in the country about a mile from town. Her name was Dulcic, and her father wasn’t well. She stayed with him in the afternoon and night and walked to town to school in the morning. The only money she had was from the eggs their chickens laid which Dulcic sold in town. 75 Dulcie loved her father very much and since he wasn’t very well she wanted to do something special for him this Christmas. She had seen a gold watch in town but she hadn’t any money of her own so she was going to do some sewing for the town store. She sewed and sewed but she wasn’t getting much money. She worked so hard at it her father wondered what she was up to. It was now the day before Christmas and she just had enough money. She started off happily that morning with the money in a little purse. Her father had been getting things ready for Christmas and she was glad she would have such a fine gift to give him. When she got to the store, the watch wasn’t there, and all of a sudden she thought that the watch might be sold. Her heart skipped a beat and her face turned pale as she rushed inside and asked for the watch. The man behind the counter nodded and took out of the shelf the watch. He smiled as he saw her face light up. She took the watch gently in her mitten and gave him the money. She started home and as she neared her home it was quite dark. All of a sudden she didn’t feel the weight of the watch in her mitten. Where was it? She must have lost it. She looked about and then fell into the snow, sobbing. Suddenly a great flash of light filled the skies and then some glimmering. She looked up with a start and started looking for the watch by the mysterious light that filled the skies. Then there came a long finger of light that pointed to a spot where she had walked. She ran to it breathlessly and started to dig. Then she gasped. There it was just where the finger had pointed. She ran the rest of the way home because it was late. She was so happy. She gave her father the watch and he was very pleased. Then she happened to mention the mysterious light. He said that they were the Northern Lights that God put in the skies to guide people from harm. They both had a very happy Christmas.” Everyone was very quiet and murmured something in his native tongue. Just then the man from Denmark said that they were nearing the Statue of Liberty. They all complimented the old lady on her story and went to the rail. They were just entering the harbor and as they viewed the statue they seemed to see something symbolic of the light that had helped the girl in the story. Then they said a last farewell and were lost in the crowd of people coming to America seeking freedom and democracy. LUCY HITCHCOCK, VII Honorable Mention jjea+ut i ube U Jeanne stepped timidly down the gangplank and looked expectantly into the mass of strange faces. No, there was no familiar face here. Her grandfather had not yet arrived. Well, she was used to waiting and would not lose her patience. Perhaps it was the custom in America to arrive late. She did not know. In Prance it was the custom to be punctual. She sighed and set herself on a post in an out-of-the-way corner. Yes, she could wait. Before Jeanne had come to America, her mother, father, and her only brother had been brutally killed by Nazis in occupied Paris. Her grandfather had sent for her and after packing her few belongings she boarded a huge liner and arrived in America, brooding hate for the Nazis in her heart. An hour had passed and the big dock was empty. A sailor saw her. Looking for someone, kid?” he queried. Oh, non, Monsieur,” she replied, startled. Jeanne did not want any sympathies and didn’t think the sailor would be of any help. Then you better be moseying along,” he retorted. Oui, oui, Monsieur,” she replied hastily, and ran off the pier with tears in her eyes. What an awful country! Where was she to go? What would she do with no American money in a strange America that she knew nothing about? She only knew a few words of English! What would she do? Jeanne gathered her wits together. Dusk was gathering swiftly. If she could find a place to sleep for the night, in the morning she could eat the small orange in her pocket. After a long search. Jeanne found a ledge under the pier. Here she would sleep where no one could sec her. Tomorrow she might be able to exchange some francs for a few American dollars. Then she would search for her grandfather. The next day Jeanne tried vainly to change her money but no one could speak French. Suddenly she remembered that her grandfather was a professor in a French 76 school. Perhaps she could find it! After much wandering and asking she found the school. Knocking on the door, she waited nervously for someone to answer it. A few minutes passed. No one came. Again she knocked. Silence . . . What would she do? Just as she was about to give up, she heard voices and saw a shadow pass on the inside wall of the building. Jeanne’s heart leaped to her throat. Someone was inside the school and didn’t want anyone to know! Slowly she crept to the window. Three men were inside. One she recognized as her grandfather! They seemed to be arguing heatedly. Her grandfather was losing. I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he said icily. But I will never do as you say. I am an American!” Ve vill soon see!” a cruel voice answered. Perhaps he vill need sonic persuasion, eh, Hans?” The Nazi turned to his companion. Ya! Goot!” Jeanne waited no longer. She had often heard her grandfather speak of the American FBI. Surely they would help her now. She saw a policeman. A-mcri-can F-B-I?” she asked in halting English. That way, sister,” the policeman pointed. Arriving at a huge building, the girl gathered her courage and rang the doorbell. Yes?” A man let her in. F-B-I?” Again the broken English. Yes.” My Papa! Nazis! French-school! Conic-quick!’’ The man got other men and they crept to the school. Jeanne’s grandfather was fighting off the two Nazis. The men rushed in and grabbed them. Jeanne hugged her grandfather and began talking swiftly in French. Then she fell into silence as one of the FBI men said, I’m glad we have these men. They’ve been causing us a good deal of difficulty.” Jeanne didn’t hear him. She was too wrapped up in her thoughts. America wasn’t so bad after all! Besides, part, yes, a very small part of her debt to the Nazis was paid! HARRIET DAYTON, VII Honorable Mention Zc utactial BJzetcltei, When Zeus submits the earth to Ceres rule And regal autumn docs with breezes cool The atmosphere; and Frost his satyrs sends To tint the green with fire, then gently rends Itself the leafage from the trees, one knows That Proserpina to Erebus’ depths soon goes; Her mournful mother, honored harvest queen, Encloaks her own red hair. No more arc seen In golden glory fields of waving grain; No more the soil caressed by gentle rain. In this weird hour, betwixt the bright and dim, The Muses choose to stir in souls the whim Of gaining boundless knowledge; such as these Do congregate in universities. Without Religion’s building, there stood I, And, so intrigued with those who passed me by I swore I could have by one lingering look Deduced, withal, as though it were a book Their lives and characters, and every trait; If they be like to love or like to hate; Or turn their hearts to God. or fall to sin; And with a young co-ed I’ll now begin A co-ed whom I saw was passing fair, With impish Nordic features, blondish hair. She brought her Bible to her class each day—, That she had heard the call” she oft would say. For now, determined that she must be sent. 77 On being a missionary she was bent. Her raiment drab, yet showed a marked good taste; And, raised on frugal fare, she could not waste. There followed at an interval or so A handsome lad, a young Lothario. He would not take religion, yet he must—, Parental pride reduced his will to dust. A cultivated background, pedigreed, The code of its posterity decreed. A woman saw I in due meekness pass, Of portly build, and from the middle class. A banker she had wed, and that too young. Scarce was her education yet begun. And so she set to work with energy That of her husband’s rank might worthy be. Three seminary students passed inside Religion’s halls, whose gates are opened wide To those who wish to learn and preach again. They were three friends, such jolly, joking men! Oblivious in youth, of all around— In their own puns, the deepest pleasure found. Yet, serious as the sea, whene’er they would, They burned the midnight oil, as scholars should. A spinster, with her look and gait austere A Sunday School for girls did domineer. She taught them more than just the Golden Rule, And came to look up lectures for her school. Her clothes from head to foot were sombre gray— Did not the slightest trace of grime betray. The master of the class which thus begun A dozen odd degrees had earned or won. Theology’s own image; he had taught From coast to coast, was nonetheless distraught That mortals should ignore the Scriptures so. Pursuing Faith, his soul was wont to go. Intent on quickly earning her A.B. A stately Spanish beauty did I see. She chose her courses with in mind the time Which they would cost, and case. This rhyme Cannot express the poise and studied grace With which she held her head—and turned each face. In faulty fashion, Reader, arc outlined Some personalities, who on my mind Engraved the deepest image. Here, a plea: At your perusal or disposal be These sketches. That being understood, and I Retire to my corner, with a sigh. 78 MARY STILSON, XI Honorable Mention 7he tf-ate the Puh- 'WudLfi i Long had people wondered, pondered, Why the moon at times was rounded And at other times, above them It was gone from sight completely. Till one day a boasting traveler Told them how it came to happen. So the people of the moonlight Gave to each a bough of pine tree, Made them clean off all the dark dust. Hard the small Puk-wudjies labored, Labored thirty days and evenings, Sweeping, cleaning, shining, moonbeams. Till around the moon they circled. Long ago some bad Puk-wudjies, Tramping, stamping on the sand dunes. Sand hills of the Nagow Wudjoo, Caused a storm of stiffling gray dust. Dust that rose into the dark sky; Soon the moon was fully covered. Cried the people of the moonlight, 'We will make you pay for this deed, O, you pygmies of the forest, O, you wicked Little People.’ Then each man took bow and arrow Shot the ear of one Puk-wudjic; Pulled them by the oaken arrows, Arrows with their heads of jasper, Jerked them through the starry night sky, Brought them up into the heavens. But the sand storm followed after. Round about them screamed and whistled Thus the mischief-making small ones Must again the moon encircle, Cleaning with their boughs of pine tree, Sweeping with their brooms of needles. Till this day they’re at their sweeping; Still behind them comes the sand storm. Whirling, blasting, spinning, twirling, Cov’ring up the moon’s clear surface; The Puk-wudjies stamping caused it.” Thus spoke Fudmujikee, the traveler; He who’d seen the land of sunset, And the ocean to the eastward, Told this tale of strangest wonder. All that heard it, did believe it. BETSY BRUCHOLZ, VIII Third Place, Junior Group Today I heard a crow call Raucous, joyous in the spring. Now the brown earth, bare from winter Steams life through everything. And the highways all run rivers And the country roads arc mud. You’ve never heard him? Never? Oh, you should, you should! MARGERY CROSBY, X Honorable Mention Sp Uw(f 79 Compliments of COMPLIMENTS OF A FRIEND Wayzata State Bank Member of F.D.I.C. TEL. KENWOOD 2630 MARKET KE. 2630 DUGAN BROS. GROCERIES — MEATS — BAKERY 80 2601-03 HENNEPIN AVE. BOULDER BRIDGE FARM The last several years have been dedicated by Boulder Bridge Farm to what we believe is the prime responsibility of all farmers—to endeavor to get the maximum in crops and livestock products and to produce the best possible colts, calves, lambs and pigs. Sixteen fine young men have gone from Boulder Bridge into the service of their country and are now fighting for humanity throughout the world. We trust that they will have confidence in us. Our only wish i that we may continue to do our small part to help them bring a speedy peace to the world. Follow through with Boulder Bridge (i. .V. Dayton President Boulder Bridge Partn Co., Excelsior, Minn. L. V. Wilson Superintendent Velie Motor Company QlJUtt SALES and SERVICE 1314 West Lake St. MINNEAPOLIS REgent 8217 When better paints arc mode. You'll find them under the “Minnesota label! °r 4(Iff n' '' MINNESOTA LINSEED OIL PAINT COMPANY 1101 Third Strmot South Minneapolis, Minn. David C. Bell Investment Company ESTABLISHED 1880 501 SECOND AVE. SO. Property Management Mortgage Loans Real Estate Insurance Rentals 82 Milton J. Carter Guild Prescription Optician 200 LA SALLE BUILDING TEL. GENEVA 3414 SEVENTH AND MARQUETTE MINNEAPOLIS GORDER LINENS Takes pleasure in presenting II and blocked Linens by Wallacli Silk Screen Prints by Granischstadten 1112 Nicollet Avenue i Compliments of Piper, Jaffray Hopwood 83 Upper left: But shc s always a lady, even in pantomime. Upper right: Hay, hoo wanths a fourth for bwidge?” Lower left: Accentuate the positive. Lower right: Ballet-hoo. Dickey Milbert Phillips 66 Products Coal and Pucl Oils Firestone Tires Willard Batteries ex. 3ie MILLER'S MOBILGAS Your Friendly Service GOODRICH TIRES DEEPHAVEN Compliments of MIZZY INC. 84 Wayzata, Long Lake, Maple Plain, Hamel Phone Wayzata 140 141 105 EAST 16TH ST. NEW YORK, N. Y. Since 1886 Insurance Mortgage Loans Real Estate Sales Property Management 515 2nd Ave. So. MAin 3431 MINNEAPOLIS 85 J Compliments of Harrison and Smith Co. Good Printers Since 1871 FANCY GROCERIES, FRUITS AND VEGETABLES CHAS. GERDES CO. KENWOOD 3022 2411 HENNEPIN AVE. iflisS JSetlj’S Jflotoer fetjop 910 MARQUETTE AVE. MINNEAPOLIS, MINX. TELEPHONE MAIN 8323 A Shop of Personal Service Compliments of WELD SONS Jewelers 817 Nicollet Ave. MINNEAPOLIS 86 JOHNSON-GOKEY CO. 525 Second Ave. So. Minneapolis Sport Clothes and Equipment for All Occasions . . . Unusual Gifts Exclusive But Not Expensive Compliments of Carl Olson Grocery 3928 W est 50th St. E. F. Adolphson MEATS 3928 W. 50th St. Compliments of W ayzata Beauty Salon Helen McElroy .Vorthrop I Uniforms—also garments of every description for children, girls, and women Colfax 8202 1459 W. 34th St. Compliments of Fullerton Lumber Company 87 Compliments Ed VVi?s Country Shop Wayzata, Minnesota .S' tai lottery C osmeties J. FRANK GOULD SON I Spendable 1 )ruggists Bryant Ave. So. at 50th Prescriptions Vitamins Compliments PATS STANDARD SERVICE 4601 Bryant Ave. So. Phone Rc. 9922 Minneapolis. Minnesota COMPLIMENTS OF A Compliments FRIEND of a Friend Compliments of BERRY GARAGE Wayzata, Minn. 88 e- - g? x c- , Q S- —' ( ITS SMOO-OO-TH and CREAMY and ITS DOUBLE-FLAVORED That’s MALT-O-MEAL! Campbell Cereal Company Minneapolis 2, Minnesota COMPLIMENTS OF A FRIEND @CeveCa tcU for Furniture of Quality Moderately Priced Draperies Slip Covers Expert Reupholstering S. (tyeveCeutd 81 So. 9th St. AT. 8228 89 (Acro� Med. Art« Bldg.) Mow’d you like the Chi Psi party last night? Your ball and chain is dragging. And there they stuck. Bread line. 60 CUPS of good coffee from every pound of PETTITT-KYSOR CO. Groceries, Bakery Goods, and Meats Phone - Wayzata 74 Compliments KNUTSON TURNER Red White Store Car A. Gustafson HAIRDRESSER 63 So. 10th Street W. 50th St. near France Main 8883 Minneapolis, Minn. 91 Compliments of Midwest Oil Company Minneapolis, Minnesota Distributors 01 f Ace Fuel Oil G mpUmentcC COUNTRY CLUB ICE CREAM 5036 France Avc. So. of Complete Fountain Service The Wo. 2670 Little Gallery. • EDW. H. KEATING AGENCY Thomas F. Chan 92 7 Compliments of £7 INTERNATIONAL MILLING COMPANY Sally Unlit Runlze. cMesiiich LINENS—For sIII Occasions ELEANOR BEARD—Spreads and Comforts LINGERIE and Hostess Gowns TAILORED LOUNGE ROBES Compliments of CoMnurutif, b'uuf, Stone. Wayzata, Minn. 41 SOUTH NINTH ST. Compliments of HOME GAS COMPANY 730 McKnight Building Minneapolis, Minnesota Plants Located in Minneapolis Sauk Centre Hutchinson Montevideo Mankato Fargo, No. Dak. COOK WITH HOME GAS For Cooking, Water Heating and Refrigeration 94 Upper left: Spooners. Upper right: Senior Room prohibition. Lower left: It’s snowing up north. Lower center: How come youse ain’t done no English assignments? Lower right: Drat that pebble!” When hi Mpls. Visit the M. F. Patterson T.M.K. Shop for Dental Supply Co. Brassieres Girdles Corselets Lingerie Jewelry Minneapolis, Minn. Gc. 4007 833 Nicollet Compliments of General Refineries Inc. ♦ y Marsh McLennan INCORPORATED Hcdeicjiu General Insurance Correct Apparel for Women and Misses • • 926 Nicollet MINNEAPOLIS Northwestern Bank Building MINNEAPOLIS MAm 7144 • New Shipments of Clothes Arrive Daily 96 COMPLIMENTS OF A FRIEND 97 O Air-Cooled Cloche in snowy pique Trim little cloche with roller brim baring a smooth young brow ... to team with crisp cottons. $5.95 teeny hat shop—first floor 98 COMPLIMENTS OF A FRIEND 99 Upper left: Kennedy sucks thumb as O’Donnell ponders Mother Goose. Upper right: Three little maids who all unwary go to a ladies’ seminary. Lower left: Inmates. Lower right: Vitamin deficiency! COMPLIMENTS OF A Compliments of Wayzata Pharmacy Wayzata, Minn. 100 FRIEND Way. 31 Way. 53 Compliments of Van Dusen Harrington Co. AT. 7733 SINCE 1890 DOG FURNISHINGS DOG FOODS LEATHER REPAIRING OF ALL KINDS English and Western Saddles New and Used Bridles—Martingales—Sheets Aluminum Bits—Navajo Blankets Everything For Dogs and Horses COMPLIMENTS OF A FRIEND CARLBOM HARNESS STORE 116 SO. 3RD STREET MINNEAPOLIS MINN. Complimen ts of The T. L. Blood Division of The Glidden Co. MANUFACTURERS OF TIME TESTED” PAINTS y Compliments of Compliments of Wayzata Ralph Boat Works Harrington 102 r , Tfie Wor,d’s Greatest Music Performed by the World’s greatest Artists” will always Compliments of IVEY’S Delicious Chocolates, Pastries and Lunches Nicollet and 10th St. Compliments of LIES SHAVER Compliments of a Friend Wayzata Phone A Hardware, Heating, Plumbing 103 1 PORTRAITS That Win By Comparison ★ ★ ★ GENE GARRETT TWELVE HUNDRED NICOLLET AVENUE The Robinson's Boy Bus and Cartage Company Our buses specialize in transporting young ladies of refinement and culture to city schools. Special prices for seats in the bottom layer. Quiet hour from 8:00 to 8:10 for studying day’s lessons. On time delivery guaranteed. No girl delivered in our buses has ever been late to school. Bus slows down to permit waving to boy friends. Extra charge for honking. Apply now for reservations for the 1945, 1946, 1947 and 1948 seasons. 104 'We must have taken the wrong nadl” AfrVti € I ' . $4 T And the Seniors think they have troubles!” Practical demonstration of new garter technique. Rig } : Come right down from there,—Sir! It must be jelly, ’cause jam don't shake like that! COMPLIMENTS OF A FRIEND 106 Complimen ts of SEARLE GRAIN COMPANY Julia Hanson Bezosky SCIENTIFIC MASSAGE AND CHIROPODY Our New Location 814 La Salle Ave. Jones Hair Shop Main 0451 Minneapolis, Minn. Kings Pharmacy 5001 France Ave. So. Phone IVa. 1736 Greetings from the Minnetonka Flower Shop Wayzata Way. 1711V Dorothy Hughart Radios Pianos and Refrigerators Aagaard’s 810 LaSalle 107 what makes a newspaper great ? Plunked neatly onto score of south Minneapolis doorsteps in flagrant competition with the Minneapolis Star-Journal and Tribune is a bantam newspaper lovingly mimeographed and expansively titled The Superior News. A lively, lusty baby with an ingratiating reporting style, the News is edited for a select audience in a typical big city neighborhood. Its intensive over-the-bock-fence coverage of life and manners in that neighborhood is the despair of rival papers. The News forgets the nation, the world and the war; but if Dorothy Larson has a birthday party or the Joneses go on a picnic, the News consistently beats the Minneapolis Star-Journal and Tribune to the story. Editor of the News, a veteran reporter of 14, is Roger Hauge, who writes and prints his paper between bouts with school-work and his duties as carrier-salesman for the Minneapolis Star-Journal and Tribune. Roger and 5,431 other Upper Mississippi Valley youngsters comprise one of the world’s largest staffs of newspaper home delivery carriers. Enterprising juveniles gravitate inevitably to the ranks of Minneapolis Star-Journal and Tribune carrier-salesmen. 14-year-old Walter Kay Lillemo, Wayzata, Minnesota, handles a rural paper route before and after school, finds time to milk four cows, grow prize-winning vegetables, earn 4-H Club honors as champion dairyman and bread baker. Bee-busy Lillemo is currently building furniture in his basement woodworking shop and learning to play the accordion. He owns $175 in War Bonds, carries a personal policy on his life for $1,000. Paunchy executives who point with pride to early beginnings as newsboys can well regard today’s carrier-salesmen with popeyed envy. Highly organized pep meetings and lectures on salesmanship, courtesy and service, plus incentive awards which include vacation trips and college scholarships help keep the youngsters on their toes, provide matchless training in business and citizenship. Guided by the Minneapolis Star-Journal and Tribune circulation experts, carrier-salesmen develop character and experience beyond their years. In more than 350,000 hotv.es every weekday, in more than 400,000 homes every Sunday, Minneapolis Star-Journal and Tribune carrier-salesmen contribute much to the sure welcome and warm regard which these newspapers cam among readers in the Upper Mississippi Valley—not only as complete, reliable, well-edited reporters of the news, but also as good neighbors and dependable friends. Minneapolis Star-Journal wTribune JOHN COWKS • Upper left: Duo-blend or My dreams are getting better all the time. Upper right: Back home for keeps. Lower left: Better Bargains at Skoglund’s. Lourr right: Tripping the light fantastic. Lynnhurst Cleaners Tailors CUSTOMIZED REPAIRING FURRIERS 4553 Bryant Avenue South REgent 9676 WAInut 2930 McWilliams pharmacy Bryant Ave. So. at 46th St. COIfax 0947 DEEPHAVEN GARAGE HARRY J. MASON. Proprietor Automobile Repairing HEAVY TOW SERVICE—FENDER AND BODY REPAIRING TIRES AND SUPPLIES N. W. Phone Deephaven 431 Term : Caeh ACME AWNING CO. Awnings — Weddings — Canopies 2839 Henn. Ave. RE. 5277 109 Lumberman Publishing Company Printers of the TATLER and SPECTATOR 1011 Lumber Exchange Building Minneapolis, Minnesota ENGRAVINGS FOR THE TATLER by Bureau of Engraving, Inc. 500 South Fourth Street Minneapolis, Minnesota 110 £e u i Pall Has done the most for N.C.S.—Dunn Best all around girl—Thomas Most original—Smith Most brilliant—Ervin Most entertaining—Fink Most likely to succeed—Fowlc Cutest—Wurtelc Wittiest—Smith Best natured—Chandler Talks most, says least—Tickle, Wood Biggest socialite—Winton Most desperate worrier—Guthrie Best dressed—Tickle Most oblivious—Potter Class Baby—Young Best year—Senior Place to go—The Frolics Most fickle—Lahiff Most in love—Cole First married—Young fju+tiasi Pall Biggest joker—Nunan Most happy-go-lucky—Benson Favorite pastime—watching submarine races Talks most, says least—Brunsdalc Laziest—Newman Biggest man hater—but that’s impossible! Most gullible—Adams Favorite young man—my steady Biggest arguer—Long Place to go on school nights—Prom Sofikonta'ie Poll Biggest eater—Sessions Best figure—Chilton Juciest line—Jenson Most naive—Tuttle Most versatile—Beaverson Best comc-on—Evcnsen Most in love—Knoblauch Best sense of humor—Geggic Biggest clown—McDonald Best disposition—Harrison, Skcllett 111 Doyle Agency General Insurance Income Tax KE. 2661 KATE C. DOYLE Owner Jones Hair Shop n our new location stir Conditioned Satisfying Sendee In a restful atmosphere by efficient operators 814 LASALLE AVENUE MAin 0451 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS To the printers and engravers for their good nature in the face of our procrastination! To Miss Resop from Garrett’s Studio who so cheerfully took the group pictures. To the judges who gave their time to select the prize winning manuscripts of the Prose and Poetry Contest. To Bill Kuechlc who gave a professional touch to some of the snaps and pictures. To Jean Hiatt whose talent and humor produced the division pages. To Susan Ervin whose ingenious methods of typing produced the bulk of the copy for this book. To Miss Bain and the Business Staff who so efficiently raised an unprecedented sum of money, and to the advertisers who have so generously supported the Taflcr. To the Fifth Grade whose enthusiastic support won them the ad campaign. To Miss Kinnaird whose helpful guidance and enthusiasm made this yearbook possible. —The Editor. 112 I 11