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

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to him. Never were the words used more appropriately. Here was a man to whom honor was dearer than all other things, even life itself, and he was proudly careful to put no blemish upon a stainless page. Let no man dare to dream that it was ever otherwise. We are persuaded that, from his duty and from his pledged word, no ambition, no pleasure, no desire — nothing — could ever move him. He learned in bitterness that the race is not always to the swift, nor the victory to the strong, nor yet honor to the honorable. He had, however, no time, ever, for recriminations or fault-finding, no capacity for bearing a grudge, and no taste for self-pity. He was, withal, a happy man, finding life good, and bringing to it a zest for living and for enjoying simple things. His humor sparkled tirelessly, its irony always kindly toward MAN, but barbed and biting when turned upon man’s mistakes of government and lead- ership, his worst foibles, and his amazing stupidity in directing world affairs. Mr. McNew’s personal philosophy underlay the following expression of the philosophy he formulated for his school: “We emphasize clear insight in the art of matching cause and effect and caution our students against accepting the academic statements of those whose positions might lend weight to their utterances. We would have our students pay adequate respect where respect is due, but eschew subservience and appeasement. We entertain the hope that our boys and girls may be model American citizens.” One of his favorite bits of literature was the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. He kept a small copy of it near him and read from it frequently. Do you re- member how often he quoted from it, especially the lines, “Ah, take the cash and let the credit go, Nor heed the rumble of a distant drum’’? There was another book he kept beside him and read from frequently — the Bible. The copy he bought the year he came to Old Town is worn and shabby now. He marked favorite passages and referred to them often. As we think of Mr. McNew, these lines about the gracious Duncan come back to us: “After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst; nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further.” Yes, the tired, frail body, worn out in our service, sleeps well, and long; but the soul wakes, surely, upon some flaming sunrise.

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ee Cerne a A ED © A Tei@an The 1952 edition of YE OLDE TOWNE CRIER is dedicated to our public school music teacher, in recognition of her many services to Old Town School, its students, and the various communities from which they come. With infinite patience she has endeavored to instill love and understanding of music in the hearts and minds of students at Old Town. She has endeared herself to all of us by her kindness, her conscientiousness, and her unassuming manner. Above other things, however, she impresses one by her ability as a teacher, and by her devotion to the task. It is, therefore, with pride and pleasure that we dedicate this volume to MISS THELMA HALES.