Old Town High School - Ye Olde Towne Crier Yearbook (Winston Salem, NC)

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ISLE OF DREAMS As night and sleep posses my world, I dritt in dreams to a fairy isle, A land of make-believe. There fairies dance by night and day, Immortals, they, born just for joy. And there a lake lies blue and’ bright With pink-tipped lilies growing. They dance and sway with every breeze, And now and then they bend To kiss the imaged face that lies Upon the limpid lake serene. Then, as the sun climbs up the sky, I leave the golden isle, And with reluctant feet that fain would stray I tread the homeward path That leads me back again To where reality waits, Stark and grim. Jean Belton. NIGHT After the flaming sun has gone to rest, After grey dusk has claimed the tired earth, Gentle night comes softly. Like a mother who wraps her little one against the chill wind, She spreads her dark cloak, Her spangled, black velvet cloak, Then pushes the new moon— The little, silver, crescent moon—from be hind a lazy cloud To wake the stars, that shine three times— First in the sky, Then in my heart, And again in the river’s darkness. India Penland. NIGHT WIND At night, the wind, a swift bird flies Across the blackened sky, And shrilly as wild geese in flight He screams a mournful cry. He hurries up the smooth, dark sky Where white cloud-children play, And flings their castles of turrets and towers Far up on the Milky Way. He whistles a bar from the “Emperor‘s Waltz,” And the leaves, deceived by the sound, Desert their safe place for his fickle embrace, And he drops them to die on the ground. Then, tiring of play, he wearily wails About the grave stones white, And shares the vigil they keep above The Dead and the dead of night. Then, on over earth, mist-shrouded and dreaming, The wind-bird, wraith-like, flies, To waken the dawn by the East imprisoned, Ere weary and spent, he dies. Nancy Petree.

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LASIO WILE AND: TES TAMENG We, the 1950 Senior Class of Old Town High School, being—despite opinion to the contrary—of sound mind, do here- with will and bequeath our most characteristic and prized possessions to such underclassmen and other persons as we deem most able to profit by our bequests. ARTICLE 1. SECTION 1. We leave Mr. McNew and to the faculty our deep gratitude, our sincere admiration, and our lasting affection. These gifts which we bestow from those sections of our hearts and minds which are never touched by the levity that appears to govern all our ways. SECTION 2. To the juniors we leave that dark and musty robe called “Senior Dignity.’ We have seldom worn it, so a good brushing should make it immediately unable. To the sophomores we leave our extra book reports. To the freshmen we leave the fun we have had in growing up, as well as the attendant miseries called “growing pains.” ARTIGEE 2: SEcTION 1. Individual bequests: 1. Porter Allen wills his tactful way with the women to Guy Carswell. 2. Jean Belton and Helen Atwood leave their sore throats and stiff joints to Betty Pfaff and Faye Wolff. (Of course, Betty and Faye, you'll have some of your own if you go out for cheerleading next year!) To Jane Chadwick, Betty Lou Cline wills her slightly used plans for a bungalow over Lewisville way. Peggy Conrad wishes to leave her interest in the basketball team to Barbara Blakely. (Carry on, Barbara!) Charles Fearrington wills his winning smile to Betty Robertson. (Itll take you places, Betty.) “Shakey” Fox leaves his acting ability to Gene Doub. Broadway is really going to be crowded in later years. To Dicie Jones, Jane Fulk leaves her ability to keep the situation well in hand when the Marines arrive. Connie Hancock and Ruby Jean Shore will their tricky defense—you know, the new one they haven’t used yet—— to the girls’ basketball teams’of the future. 9. Richard Hauser wills his wit to Kyle Fulk. (Jus: say anything, Kyle, theyll laugh everytime.) 10. Mary Jane Hines leaves the rain checks of all her opera tickets to Peggy Sue Riddle. 11. Anna Hudgins wishes to leave her well groomed looks to Eleanor Butner. 12. Mary Lou Blevins leaves her startling, blue eyes to Phyllis Hemrick. (Just roll them with care, Phyllis.) 13. C. T. Long wills his innocent appearance and his wolf whistle to Reggie Luper. 14. Jean Seagraves leaves her willowy figure to Jean Jefferson. 15. Wilma Deal wills her knee guards to Dotty Phillips. (They should serve to make Dotty a complete succes on the team next year.) 16. Hunter James leaves his red hair to Carolyn Yow. (The price of peroxide should fall!) 17. Nancy Petree wills her executive ability to Ryland Vaughan. 18. Thurmond Lakey wills to Bobby Young, the ah’s and uh’s that were so useful when Thurmond couldn’t remember all his poetry. 19. Ben Shore leaves a stack of all his extra book reports to Max Butner in memory of the day Ben was going to make a book’ report on one of Zane Gray’s books and found Mrs. Newman of a different mind. 20. “Friz” Lawson leaves her curls to Jerry Livengood. (That should save you a lot of time, Jerry.) 21. Georgie Swink leaves her lovely voice to the mocking bird which has become a permanent fixture just outside the office window. 22. Jean Jennings wills Ned Conrad to Billie Russell. 23. Buddy Belton leaves his cure-all vitamin pills to the future seniors. (If those pills effect other grades the way they did Buddy’s, I recommend strychnine instead.) We, the Seniors of Old Town High School, in the year of our Lord 1950, do declare the articles as given above to be our last will and testament, and hereunto affix our our sign and seal, this twenty-second day of May, nineteen hundred and fifty. JOAN WOOD, Testator. Witnesses: The Wild Goose znd the Chattanoga Shoe Shine Boy.

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PROPIREGY Crystal ball gazing is but definitely out of my ken. If I were a seer or a prophet of yore, it would have been easy for me to foretell the shrouded future. However, since I am neither, I wracked my brain in vain for ideas. At last, when Mrs, Newman asked about the prophecy, my peace of mind was completely shattered. Prophesy I must, and prophesy I would. Down I sat, fully equipped with pad, pencil, and a dish of dill pickles—they would keep me awake at least. One fire burned my spirit; one resolve was imprinted an my mind. One hour, one pad of paper, and five pickles later I had accom- plished nothing. My pad was covered with curious doodlings—a contribution to modern art perhaps, but not to modern literature! Already I was drowsy, and I was getting nowhere fast. I might as well go to bed, I thought, ripping the pages from the pad. One drawing however, attracted my attention. It was curious, but vaguely familiar. Later in bed that design stuck in my mind. Suddenly I saw a cloud of vapor arising from the floor, and from this vapor appeared a genie of vaguely familiar appearance. Then I realized why he seemed familiar, he strangely resembled the curious design of my doodling. Bowing low, he spoke in the stilted phraseology of a forgotten day. “If my lady be pleased to eccompany her unworthy servant, he will open for her the door which is now closed.” Practically overcome by all this, I agreed as if in a trance. Suddenly, I felt myself engulfed in a cloud of a vapor. When the vapor cleared, I found myself before a hotel in New York City. Silently I followed the genie up the marble steps leadinz; to the entrance of the Hotel. Suddenly I stopped as before my eyes appeared two of my classmates, clad in uniforms. Yes, Connie Hancock and Helen Atwood had realized the ambi- tion of their high school days—they were full fledged members of the Waves. As we entered the lobby I read these amazing words over an office door, Jean Belton, Public Stenographer. As I peeped in the office J saw my old friends Peggy Conrad and Herman Shamel.. Imagine my surprise when I heard Jean refer to them as Duke’s new head basketball coach and his wife. They were in New York for Duke’s big game at Madison Square Garden. I wanted to talk, but the genie reminded me that we wee invisible. We left the hotel and proceeded to Radio City, still caled that although radio had been completely replaced by tele- vision. From listening to the guide’s explanation I learned that the Metropolitan Opera Company’s famous soprano, Georgie Swink, accompanied by the renowned pianist, Mary Jane Hines, was about to sing for a weekly program which was now in prozress in Studio A. In Studio B those well known actors Richard Fox and Mary Lou Blevins were rehearsing for their performance of “The Barretts of Wimpole Street.” In another Studio the star of the New York Knickerbockers was makin3 a guest appearance on a sports program. Who should this prove to be but my handsome classmate, Eugene Snyder. Stopping before a billboard I read that at CBS, America’s favorite comedian, Richard Hauser, had replaced the Jack Benny show with his own program. Well, Richard was our class wit. The genie nodded, and I found myself in a huge building filled with the clatter of typewriters. There the New York Times’ newly appointed sports editor, Hunter Lee James, was interviewing the Green Bay Packers’ star right-end, Charles Fearrington. Across the hall in the editor’s office Joan Wood was busily writing editorials. Then I found myself in the business district of New York, in front of Sears and Roebuck and Company. A large sign proclaimed that A. G. Logan was president. Well, A. G. always was good at business. Across the street I saw Imogene Jennings rearranging the show windows of her large establishment. It had become the smart thing to have your house decorated by Imogene, widely acclaimed interior decorator. In her pent house apartment I found Anna Hudgins entertaining at a very ritzy party. Anna was celebrating the recent announcement of her being chosen one of the best dressed women of the world. From one glance at her ensemble I could understand why. Again the genie and I were swept away. This time to the Copacabana night club. Who should appear but Bob Cars- well clad in a tuxedo. Bob looked so dignified that for a minute I thought he was the head waiter instead of the owner. Seated at one of the tables were Frances Sharp, Joan Long, Dorothy Norman, and Jean Seagraves. They were on vacation from their office jobs back in Winston-Salem. Out in front Peggy Longbottom was checking hats. I remember that she received her experience at the Forsyth Theatre back home. I was beginning to wonder if the whole Old Town class of 1950 had moved to New York when suddenly I felt myself sped to Toledo to the brilliantly lighted ball park. Who should be on the field but K. W. Pfaff, shortstop, and C. T. Long, catcher, and to top it all their club was winning. As swiftly as we had come we were whizzed away. We landed in Reno, Nevada. No, none of my classmates were get- ting divorces, but one of them, Bill McDaniels was operatiny his own casino. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time and Bill, the best of all. As I marveled at the complexity of it all I was swept away to Texas where the Governor was entertaining the senior Senator. The host was Buddy Belton, his guest, Ben Shore. Who would have thought they would have come to this. In Miami in front of a large building I saw a small sign, quiet and elegant. It read: Porter Allen and Thurmond Lakey, Morticians. Then I found myself on Miami Beach where I saw a handsome man accompanying an attractive young woman, yes. Rover Vogler and his wife! The world’s champion billiard plaver had made his fortune and retired to Florida. I was drawn from my amazement by a terrific roar overhead. I looked up and saw Bill Flynt waving from the window of his jet plane. Well, I guess from school bus number 33 to jet planes wasn’t such a step for Bill after all, judging by the way he used to Crive.