Petersburg High School - Missile Yearbook (Petersburg, VA)

Text from Pages 1 - 148 of the 1953 volume:

Res Rm Petersburg High 050 School. N691 The Missile. (1953) c. 1 Petersburg Public Library Petersburg, VA 23803-4257 � is., 1 i i-v 1 nil wiiimiaii lmuiiliH� niiiH ' Ji IMLCL %K. aA7tS9fi MISSILE STAFF The Missile PETERSBURG HIGH SGHOOL PFTF. RSBTTRG, VJRGTNTA Vol. xxxxi M A Y - 1 9 5 3 No. 1 CONTENTS Class Poem — Senior Pictures — Clubs “VIRGINIA THE BEAUTIFUL” Prologue Harriet Wijche Nature’s Wonderland I. Natural Bridge Mary Skipivith Richards ii. Mountain Lake Janet Butler in. Virginia’s Natural Chimneys .... Frances Bailey IV. The Luray Caverns Martha Lee ' Williams V. Fairystone Park Janet Butler Spring Songs Clarissa Mayfield I. Awakening ii. Remembered Spring Beauty’s Daughters I. Beautiful Daughter of the Stars . . . Barbara Goodman II. The Fabulous Blue Ridge Mountains . . John Willis HI. Little Switzerland .... Mary Skipicith Richards n . Playground of the World . Jill Hesse and Oliver Rudy Showers Harriet Wyche The City at Twilig ht Juanita Puryear Night Breeze Connie Traylor The Good Earth I. The Good Earth The Spring .... Night Mist . Bill Scott Phyllis Hirshhorn Jack Harvey The Gradle of America I. Old “James Towne” Barbara Winfield II. That the Future May Learn from the Past Barbara Stanton Metaphors Frances Bailey I. A Tree ii. On Little Things Four Beautiful Homes I. Mount Vernon Elizabeth Bowen ii. Monticello Harriet Wyche HI. Stratford on the Potomac .... Elizabeth Bowen IV. Westover on the James Betty Stanton LITERARY SEGTION Blind Date Nell Roper True Love Anne Robertson An Enlightening E.xperience Betty Hinton Musings Mary Woodrum Jones I. Infidelity ii. Life iii. Flight’s End The Power of the Rocks La Verna Smith Sour Notes Ahead Joyce Long Faith Juanita Puryear Ink Jerry Moyar Stormy Weather Thomas Russell Query Phyllis Hirshhorn A Bargain Harriet Wyche Youth Catherine Goodwyn The Antique Ann Lawrence The Watchman Janet Butler On Self-Entertainment Jack Bortz Poems Bill Scott I. How Do They Know? ii. The Making of a Man A Ghristmas Story Mary Skipwith Richards The Explorer Ronald Simon The Essayist Ann Wagner Thought and Fancy Ami Wagner I. Thoughts on Leaving Petersburg High School. ii. Morning 5 6 7 7 8 9 11 12 14 1.5 16 17 17 19 21 21 23 24 27 29 30 31 31 35 36 37 38 39 41 42 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 Issued Annually in May by the Students of Petersburg High School, Peters- burg, Va. Subscription Rates: $1.00 a copy; 75c advance subscription. Editorial Staff Editor-in-Chief HARRIET McDOWELL WYCHE Associate Editors BARBARA LAUGHTON WINFIELD CLARISSA JANE MAYFIELD THOMAS BUTTON RUSSELL CATHERINE ELIZABETH BLAIR JOHN JAMES WILLIS ANN VILLIA WAGNER NORMAN WONG MARY GAROLINE TALMAGE FRANGES SNEAD BAILEY Business Staff Business Managers ANNE SHEARER ROBERTSON BURTON FRANGIS ALEXANDER, JR. Assistants KATHRYN BRYANT POPE ANN FRANGES LAWRENGE PATRICIA ANN HARRIS ROY TRIPP EVANS MARY ALLEN PETRIE TAMES WILSON RUST, JR. ELINOR SARA DORSK EDWIN STANLEY BLACKER BEVERLY ROSENBAUM TANE LOUISE CONE BARBARA DAWN SPAIGHT JANET MILDRED BUTLER ■ruth VIRGINIA TIPTON Circulation Staff Circulation Manager ANITA LOUISE LUNSFORD Assistants GRAHAM ROBERT OSLIN, JR. EDITH ANN PENINGTON CAROLE EDNA FOWLKES Art Staff Art Editor KIT ELAINE JOHNSON Artists JOHN CLAY HARVEY WILLIAM GROSSMANN ROBERT ALEXANDER LEE, JR. DOUGLAS WAYNE JAMES GEORGE THOMAS PARTIN EMILY REYNOLDS GREEVER JOHN FAIRBANKS HAINES DONALD LOCKETT BILL SCOTT Photographic Staff Editor MARY WOODRUM JONES Assistants ELIZABETH LANDON HINTON JANET DEAN CONGDON PHYLLIS MARIE RAFNELL JEAN ELLEN KITGHEN Stall Photograirher MASTIN’ LFROY KITGHEN Faculty Advisers Editorial MR. H. AUGUSTUS MILLER, JR. Business MR. JAMES W. SUTHERLAND Girculation MR. A. W. LLOYD Photography MR. E. B. CONGDON To New Hei lits by Frances Bailey We who g,racluate are fledgelings Who now rniist learn to fly alone. The nest, oar school, toe mwst forsake For worlds in which we’ve never flown, And yet our hearts are gay. A bit afraid but eager still We throw our bodies to the .sky. But those whose upward gazes fail Fall to the ground and never fly. And yet our hearts are gay. He hath said each sparrows fall He knows, and aren’t we more than they? And so He’ll guide us as we fly Through trials and joys of each new day. And .so our hearts are gay. ■ 9 ’ ntxm 1953 Gerald James Moyer Barbara Ann Jones John Edward Bortz Yolanda Ann Saladino Herbert Franklin Clarke Mary Allen Petrie Charlotte Eileen Pugh Phillip F’ranklin Grumpier, Jr. Virginia Lucille Watson James Wilson Rust, Jr. Betty Sue Starr Martha Jane Townes John Worth Lynn Barbara Anne Stanton Carroll Kestler Rodgers Frances Snead Bailey Bruce Macon Moore, Jr. Joyce Ann Daniel Joyce Irene Sherrill Lawrence Elvin Lee Anita Diehl Webb Robert LeRoy Powell Mary Caroline Talmage Anne Shearer Robertson Mary Parker Cunningham Jane Annette Wade Page Lee Tipton Shirley Ann Moore Clarissa Jane Mayfield Otis Samford Moreman, III Patricia Anne Harris Roy Tripp Evans, III Kit Elaine Johnson Barbara Florence Goodman Fletcher Johnston Wright, HI Anita Louise Lunsford Graham Robert Oslin, Jr. Read Flournoy McGehee, Jr. Kathryn Bryant Pope Kenneth Nicholas Ellis, Jr. Mary Woodriim Jones Harriet McDowell Wyche James Aubrey Smith Elizabeth Landon Hinton Thomas Louis Berry Janet Mildred Butler William Horace Scott Ruth Virginia Tipton James William Shiner Gayle Lesh Peoples John Clay Harvey Ann Willia Wagner Paul Eaton Williams, III Edith Anne Penington Albert Lee Seward, Jr. Elizabeth Jean Britt John Early McDonald, Jr. Barbara Laughton Winfield Burton Francis Alexander, Jr. Carolyn Gayle Swanson Fndcrick Bernard Gill Marjorie Faye Thomas Claiborne Randolph Ramsey Beulah Ann Langster James Frederick Og] ' )urn Minnie Arline Burnett Catlierine Elizabeth Broadluirst Blair Shirley Mae Carden John Melnot Dean Raymond Darden Birdsong Carole Edna Fowlkes Horace Hugh Moore Doris Virginia Harper Thomas Edward Marek D’Este Merr man Poole James Franklin Hatch Betty Love Keys F rank 1 in Woodrow T rayior Jean Laverne Parrish Ronald Berkeley Faison Minnie Lee Harmp Donald Charles Ellington Joyce Ann Perdue Gloria Mae Wilkinson Seaton Brackon Neal, Jr. Joyce Glenn Long Robert Alexander Lee, Jr. Kenneth Kiefer Dickinson Lois Mason Underhill Clifford Alan Kalb cs Geoifje Thomas Partin Betty Gray Sullivan Joseph Owen Traylor William Franklin Childs Joan Truman Lemon Henry Peter Brantins Emily Blinco Crostic William Mcllwaine Chambers Robert Edward Perkins, Jr. Caroline Virginia Morris Robert Lee Hoyle Charlotte Ann Barrett Levy Ann Tanner Cecil Deward Ashley Cliflord Paul Nevetral, Jr. Alma Grace Outlaw James Allen Reith Carolyn Elizabeth Rollison Thurman Elliott Elmore Shirley Anne Hardy Donald Ernest Lockett Richard Wallace Jones Mildred Arneitta Traylor Vivian Clarence Joyner. Jr. Glenn Cornelius Myrick Evelyn Patricia Murdock Clarence Lee Dodson Rose Marie Brigjr.s Georse G. Toth, Jr. Charles Herlie Porter Heniy Lloyd Cates Betty Ann Lewis Robert Wliitney Harwell, Jr. Janice Marie Wine Ralph Clifton Berger, Jr. Nancy Slierie Douglas Benjamin Rucker Mason Robert Marvin Btdcher Joan Marie Perkinson Phillip Carroll Johnson Nancy Lee Radclitfe Janies Naff Mitchell Betty Elaine Perkins James Evan Snead Edward Benjamin Hawkins Donna Claire McElwain John Adam Stuckey Irving Leon Wicks Constance Miller Traylor Eugene Gray Thompson Elsie Louise Wade Nelson Ray Ramsey Vivian Juliette Williams Mary Louise Traylor William Thomas Watkins Robert Weldon Robertson Shirley Ann Pond Richard Lee Vaughan Catherine Gardiner Goodwyn Claiborne Eugene Edwards Shirley Ann Spain i... Wiihur Lloyd Sholes Winnie Mae Mayton Albert LaVerne Hartle, Jr. Juanette Prescott Janette Prescott James Madison Williams Samuel Mason Williams Mildred Carolyn Horne Gilbert James Henshaw Margaret Rose Powell Ronald Wells Simon Shirley Rives Vaughan Robert Lee Howerton Dorothy Louise Wawner Leslie Arnold Bowman, Jr. Betty Sue Baldwin Raymond Melvin Pamplin Rose Marie Hogwood John Edward Chandler, Jr. Stanley Brandon Kamm Phyllis Sara Hirshhorn Sherman Brandon Lubman Elinor Sarah Dorsk Marian Jeanne Mayer Robert Howe Mayer Douglas Lee ’augban Judith Marie Bridgeman Karl Bogart Maddrey, Jr. Joan Jaunita Punear Howard Everette Minetree Prince Leslie Fuller. Jr. M -JX ©O0©©00FIRST SHOWING oooooo o © © J n o 0 ; w u u li— ■ ooooooooo rAH IN(7 ooooooogo JOAN LEMON AND CLAIBORNE EDWARDS JOYCE SHERRILL AND LESLIE BOWMAN BIGGEST FLIRTS SHIRLEY POND AND JOHN STUCKEY AS CRAZIEST TJames Sili. ScoTT XL nl n_ XL OOOOOO FIRST SHOWINGOOOOOO 0 o © o o o U) inl M In q0C)00€)©oSTARR[]TG ©0©0©00© ELAINE PERKINS BILL CHAMBERS AS BEST ALL-ROUND JUDITH BRIDGMAN AND DICK JONES BRAINIES ' ANITA WEBB AND WOODROW TRAYLOR AS BEST ATHLETES a. R;(i HARRIET WYCHE ANS AND SANDY AS BEST ALL-ROUND RUTH TIPTON AND JACK BORTZ BRAINIEST KIT JOHNSON AND K.B.AAADDREY BEST ATHLETES r M mtrnrnmm 1 n in nr o©oo0oo FIRST SHOWING oooo 0 0 © o o o o n M o E 3 M o O00OO0000STARRI NfTOQoooO ' Ooo ANN WAGNER HERBERT CLARKE NG AS CONNIE TRAYLOR AND PAUL WILLIAMS BIGGEST FLIRTS PAT HARRIS BOBBY HOWERTON CRAZIES Do M issiLE Staff Editur-in-Chief Business Managers Circulation Manager Art Editor Photographic Edi tor Faculty Af D scr.s— Literary Business Circulation Photograph Harriet Wyche Anne Robertson Burton Alexander Anita Lunsford Kit Johnson Mary Woodrum Jones . .. Mr. H. A. Miller, Jr. .. Mr. J. W. Sutherland Mr. A. W. Lloyd Mr. Edmond Congdon First Row Kit Jolinson Mary Woodrimi Jones Burton Alexander Harriet Wyche Anne Rolrertson Anita Lunsh)rd Fourth Row Jeanette Ford Nancy Gailey Barbara Spaiglit Jane Cone Lynne Scliclllrerg Lon Lesley Bryant Pope Betty Hinton Jean Kitchen Phyllis Rafnell Janet Congdon Second Row -Mastin Kitchen Tommy Russell Catherine Blair Clarissa Mayfield Barbara Winfield Mary Talmage Ann Wagner John Willis Norman Wong Fifth Row Peggy Baker Parker Cunningham Bobby Lee Sylvia Osmnndson Carol Fowlkes Than Penington Carolyn Rollison Jack Harvey Bobby Oslin Third Row Rnth Tipton Beverly Rosenbanm Marlene Braver Pat Harris Janet Bntler Margaret Hunter Ann Lawrence Jimmy Bust Sixth Row Mr. H. A. Miller, Jr. Mr. J. M ' . Sutherland Mr. A. Wh Lloyd Mr. Ed. Congdon Faculty Principal Mr. R, B. Gill Assistant Prmcipal Mr. H. A. Miller, jr. Clerk — . Doris Curlin Clerk Betty Hartley Librarian Mrs. Gladys Spencer First Row Second Roio Mary Bailey Mildred Evans Margaret Carter Helen Brooks Doris Ciirlin Mary T. Perkins Laura Meredith Ellen Moyer Cora Blackmore Helen Scarborough Frances Morgan Georgia West Third Row Fourth Row Fifth Row Frances Browning Margiieritte Jennings Gladys Wilkinson Frances Evans Janie Lee Reynolds Pauline Robertson Gladys Spencer Shirley Willcox Helen Cover James Sutherland Russell B. Gill Frank Haynes Edward Swope James Micklem Morris Murphy H. S. Holmes Ralph Stronach Addinell Lloyd Edward Wilson D. Pinckney Powers Burton F. Alexander H. Augustus Miller, Jr. Edward B. Smoot Edmond Congdon Senior Committee Ad viser Mr. H. A. Miller, Jr. Left to Right Ann Wagner Jumho Seward Bilh’ Chambers Mr. ' H. A. Miller, Jr. Sandy Evans Jerry Moyer Betty Hinton President Adviser .. Student Council Kit Johnson Miss Ellen Moyer “S”, Statiit}g at Bottom Carol Lavenstein Beverly Rosenbaum Janice Wine Richard Counts Kit Johnson Bobby Duncan Sandy Evans Nancy Fowler Bill Feazel Landon Smith Betsy Goodman Norma Jean Collins Bobby Laney Dabney Short “C”, Clockwise Irving Lewis Arie Fenderson Arliclc Brockwell Jill Hess Dawna Dow Skitchy Rudy Montie Swope Tucker Ramsey Jack Harvey Stanley Kamm Joe Blankenship Monitors Club Prcsidoit - Read McGehee Vice-President Tom Berry Secrciary , Pat Harris Adviser Mr. H. S. Holmes Left to Right jumbo Seward Fletdier VVriglit Barlrara Winfield Alfred Knight Bill Hobeck Lon Lesley Raymond Birdsong Bobby Corter Anne Robertson James Snead Harriet Wyche Woodie Traylor Mike Wilkerson Betty Hinton Than Penington Bill Shiner Mary Woodrinn Jones Sandy E ’ans Bill Feazel Pat Harris Paul Williams James Whelan Read McGehee Billy Ritchie Tommy Marek Tom Berry Jack Harvey Jack Bortz Mary Gleason Nelson Ramsey George Dempsey Bookie Pugh Bobby Hatchett Otis iMoreman Ann Norris Herbert Glarke Glaho Ramsey Janet Butler Terry Gollett Kenneth Ellis Barbara Goodman Jimmy Smith Marcin Boswell Gayle Peoples Upper Center Tucker Ramsey Mr. Holmes Leslie Bowman The Band Director Majorettes Connie Traylor Joyce Daniel Pat Tudor Kay Dunnivant D’Este Poole Fhites Betsy Bruner Carole Ann Torrence Kay Scoggin Binnie Mollock Clarinets Jack Bortz Janet Petty Edward Gerry Carolyn Horne Fred Clements Joan Walker Elva Jane MAnne Cazel! Kirkland Margaret Fields Louise Tipton Myrtle Martin Jimmy Britt Barbara Baldwin Marylyn Sessums Norma Collins James Snead Mr. llalph Stroiiach Drum Major Donald Lockett Color Guard Donald Ellington Whitney Harwell Dabney Short Cliftord Kalb Franklin Jefferson Saxophones Gerald Nobles Joyce Jones Ernest Pannill Barbara Stanton Kenneth Ellis Virginia Tench Ira Lee Andrews T rumpets Charles Hawkins Lee Litchfield Robert Mayer Donald Phelps Sterling Burton Charles Poole Howard Bedford Walter Crutchfield Tommy Marek Dorothy Tinney Claiborne Nemecek Claude Springfield Bobby Biley Horns Janice Wine Shelby Harrison Joyce Simmons Herman M’ilkins Trombones William Hobeck David Murdock Ronald Simon Nancy Blankenship Edward Branch Baritones Bobby Mizelle Spencer Perkins Basses Bill Shiner Tom Anderson Ralph Rowlett Jimmy Traylor Drums Bobby W ' alker James Tinney Marshall Hughes Charles Barnes James Seay James Bust Glenn Browder James Tench Barrett Bryant Bell Lyra Pat Murdock New Mcmiljers • not in picture Lois Ann Parrish Bernard Bortz Billy Hartzman Peg Moore Marshall Blick Bonnie Hammers Glee Club President .... Tommy Marek Seer et an .... joaime Bortz Business Manag,er Skitchy Rudy Librarian .... Barbara Goodman Lil rarian .... Sylvia Osmundson Direetor Miss Dorothy Wainwright First Row Second Row Tiiird Row Fourth Roiv “Skitchy” Rudy Sylvia Osmundson Joanne Bortz Barbara Goodman Tommy Marek Dorothy Wainwrissht Beverly Rosenbaum Peggy Craven Catherine Blair Claudette Spencer Betty Paige Harte Mildred Traylor Ella Mae Dohr Jane Wade Lynne Schellloerg Clarissa Mayfield LaVerna Smith Betty Sue Starr Jane White Shirley Hardy Joan Lemon Teresa Barreto Ruth Tipton Pattie Patram Catherine Paxton Mary Talmage Elinor Dorsk Delores Lyons Mary Allen Petrie Betty Stanton Kit Johnson Betty Jean Britt Anne Robertson Beverly McDowell Nancy Gailey Pat Kvasnicka Phyllis Ilirshhorn Mastin Kitchen Fifth Row Betty Byrd Daniel Randolph Hinkle Jack Evans Sherman Luhman Thomas Russell Gilbert Henshaw Otis Moreman John King David Young John Willis Sixth Row Edward Webb Edward Burton George Dempsey Howard Minetree James Ozmar Bert CuiTin Raymond Pamplin Glenn Myrick Arlick Brockwell Marvin Boswell Bobby Howerton Seventh Row Paul Williams Bruce Moore Woodv Traylor K. B. Maddrey Sock and Buskin Society President — Frances Bailey Vice-President Kitta Mayfield Secretarij - Marv Allen Petrie Treasurer David McCants Adviser Mr. Ed. Wilson First Row Second Roiv Mary Allen Petrie Caroline Morris Frances Bailey Betty Sue Starr Kitta Mayfield Joan Lubman David McCants Charlotte Wall Delores Puckett Phyllis Miles Third Row Fourth Row Fifth Row Beverly Gibbs Bobbv Chandler Edward Blacker Vivian Williams Billy Story Fletcher Wright Marilyn Ende Montie Swope Donald Struniinger Elinor Dorsk Douglas Temple Jim Adler Sharon Clark Carol Lavenstein Bobbv Laney Frances Perdue Gerald Nobles Mr. Wilson COCKADETTE StAEE Eclitor-in-Chief Vivian Williams Advisers Mr. J. W. Sutherland Mr. Ed Congdon First Row Ma.stin Kitchen ' i ’ian Williams Eugene Tlioinpson Second Row I larriet A ' C■he Donald Ellington James Snead Jo ce Long Page Tipton Bill Scott Catlierine Blair Barbara Stanton Bobb ' Howerton Carolyn Rollison Dawna Dow Sidney Sutherland Third Row Margaret Hunter Br ant Pope LaVema Smith Beverly Rosenl:)anm Bett ' jean Britt Gayle Swanson Frances Bailey Mary M ' oodrum Jones Tucker Ramsey Juanita Puryear Fourth Row Cora Mhllis Kitta Mayfield Nancy Gill Fdizabeth Bowen Anita Webb Katie Pa.xton Douglas James Marvin Hogue Lawrence Griffin Fift]} Row Than Penington Peggy Baker Betty Stanton Martha Lee W ' illiams Barbara Spaight Nancy Gailey John Haines Jack Harvey Jimmie Rust Bobby Walker Sixth Roiv Mr. Gongdon Garol Lavenstein David McGants Donna McElwain Hugh Moore Otis Moreman La Verne Hartle Mr. Sutherland Adviser Distributive Education Club Mr. Finney Second Row Billy Ritc liie Robert Hoyle Rose Jackson William Watkins First Row Betty Lou Estes Douglas Vaughan Henry Cates Clarence Joyner Shirley Moore Third Row Glen Myrick George Toth David Murdock Franklin Wynn Fourth Row Mr. Finney Rali h Berger Donald Andrews Eugene Thompscm Future Homemakers oe America President Emily Greever Vice-President Betty Lou Addison Secretary Mary Ann West Treasurer Caroline Morris Reporter Vivian Williams Chaplain Peggy Lou Wilburn Adviser Miss Helen Page Scarborough Members: Shelby Adcock Betty Lou Addison Peggy Baker Betty Baldwin Leta Barker Barbara Blankenship Patricia Bonner Wanda Bowman Shirley Branzelle Marlene Braver Judith Bridgman Hope Bulay Nancy Collins Janet Congdon Dian Cummins Betty Byrd Daniel Charlotte Davis Kaye Davis Betty Dennis Nancy Dobson Kay Dunivant Anne Evans Jean Edwards Joyce Elmore Lola Faison Becky Flye Jeanette Ford Sylvia Gardner Arie Fenderson Rosemary Gordon Emily Greever Sue Griffith Faye Hall Minnie Harrup Betty Paige Harte Rose M. Hogwood Pat Hughes Barbara Jones Jo Bolling Jones Shirley Jones Leilani Johnson Pat Kvasnicka Frances Laine Barbara Leete Carolyn Little Elma Mackey Nancy Mallory Winnie Mayton Beverly McDowell Phyllis Miles Sue Moody Carolyn Moon Mildred Moore Carolyn Morris Betty Morrissette Peggy Odgers Alease Palmore Joan Parcells Catherine Paxton Frances Perdue Judith Powell Shirley Price Carolyn Pritchett Donna Pritchett Delores Puckett Phyllis Rafnell Betty Ratcliffe Arline Riley Jean Simmons Joyce Simmons Charlotte Slate Betty Smith Claudette Spencer Jean Staples Dot Tinney Yvonne Voshall Charlotte Wall Lucille Watson Anne West Mary Ann West Ann Wheeler Jane White Jean Worley Peggy Wilburn Jean Wiliams Vivian Williams Peggy Brockwell Commercial Club President Charlotte Davis Secretary Wanda Bowman Treasurer Carol Fowlkes Reporter Dorothy Wawner Adviser Miss Mildred Evans First Row Second Row Third Row Dorothy Wawner Alease Pahnore Jane Wade Charlotte Davis Barbara Wall Grace Outlaw Wanda Bowman Jean Williams Joan Lemon Carol Fowlkes Charlotte Slate Joyce Sherrill Betty Wightman Delores Puckett Jo Bolling Jones Ph ' llis Miles Janette Brantley Cora Willis Fourth Row Rose Marie Hogwood Betty Keys • Levy Ann Tanner Betty Sanford Norma Jean Collins Nancy Mallory Frances Stone Claudette Spencer Fifth Row Betty Sue Baldwin Barbara Baldwin Margaret Powell Shirley Jones Betty Dennis Ann Evans Betty Smith Miss Mildred Evans Betty Jane Carol Le Cercle Franc ais President Viee-President Sec retanj-Treasn re r Adviser Bill Scott Catherine Blair Both Tipton Mrs. Pauline Robertson Clockwise— from bottom Norman Wong Nell Roper Sue Moody Nancy Galley Jean Bosher Shirley Tyner Edwin Blacker Marlene Braver Skippy Richards Kitta Mayfield Carol Lavenstein Ruth Tipton Bill Scott Center Mrs. Pauline Robertson Spanish Club Adviser Miss Gladys Wilkinson Second Row Stanley Kamm Connie Traylor Parker Cunningham Bobby Lee First Row Lucille Watson Sue Browder Carolyn Rollinson Page Tipton Third Row Anita W ' ebb Raymond Pamplin Ella Mae Dohr Fourth Roto George K ' asnicka Sherman Lubman Square Circle Fall Term President Vice-President Secrctan -T reasiirer Bry ant Pope Mary Woodrum Jones Barbara Goodman Spring Term President Vice-President Secretary-Treasurer Adviser Barbara Winfield Ann Lawrence .. Than Penington Mrs. Helen Cover First Row Mary Woodrum Jones Bryant Pope Barbara Goodman Second Row Kay Scoggin “Dottie” Gill Third Row Barbara Winfield Harriet Wyche Betsy Hargrave Anne Robertson Fourth Row Irving Lewis Mary Talmage Janet Butler Skipwith Richards Fifth Row Mrs. Helen Gover Margaret Hunter Phyllis Tatum Lou Leslie Lynne Schellberg “Scottie” Steele O. G. Club Fall Term President Vice-President Secretarij Treasurer Adviser Ann Wagner ... Wendy Wilkerson Pat Vaiden Nancy Harville Mrs. Shirley Willcox Spring Term President Ann Wagner Vice-President Barbara Jones Secretory Nancy Harville Treasurer Joyce Gates First Row Second Row Third Row Nancy Harville Betty Paige Harte Mrs. Shirley Willcox Ann Wagner Pat Kvasnicka Faye Davis “Wendy” Wilkerson Barbara Jones Sue Moody Pat Vaiden Betty Sullivan Joyce Jones Dawna Dow Joyce Gates Delores Landon Betty Lou Cole Joanne Bortz Patty Patram (kx)BER Pep Club Fall Term President Vice-President Secretary-Treasurer Adviser Bookie Pugli Betty Hinton Pat Harris Mrs. Margneritte Jennings Spring Term President Vice-President Secretary-Treasurer Pat Harris Jill Hess Yolanda Saladino Second Row Betsy Bruner Betty Jean Britt Fret Roper Nell Roper Barbara Richardson Anita Lunsford First Row Betty Hinton Bookie Pugh Pat Harris Third Row Jean Tench Hope Bulay Kitta Mayfield Jill Hess Susan Elliot Joan Wright Fourth Row Nancy Gill Betty Stanton Kit Johnson Carol Lavenstein Betty flarvey Yolanda Saladino Cockade Hi-Y Fall Term President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Sidney Sutherland Sandy Evans Dan Moore Alfred Knight Spring Term President Sandy E ans Vice-President Arlick Brockwell Secretary Randolph Elinkle Treasurer Alfred Knight Adviser Mr. “Randy” Mallory First Row Alfred Knight Sidney Sutherland Sandy Evans Dan Moore Second Row Mr. Mallory Jack Harvey John G. Francis Bobby Corter Burton Ale.xander Jimmy Rust Landon Smith Bobby Hutto John King Third Row Jack Bortz Jack E ans Read McGehee Herbert Glarke Bobb - Hatchett Tucker Ramsey Fletcher MTight Terr - Gollett Tomm ’ Berry President Vice-President Secret an Treasurer Adviser Crater Hi-Y Fall Term Bill Feazel Billy Shiner Kenneth Ellis Billy Chambers Dr. Davis Spring Term President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer ... Dabney Short John McDonald ... Kenneth Ellis .... David Young Second Row Howard Sherman Billy Hoheck Tommy Magness John KicDonald Bill Grossman Montie Swope Dabney Short First Row Kenneth Ellis Billy Shiner Bill Feazel Billy Chambers “Doc” Davis Third Row Henry McGill Otis Moreman Fred Swearingen Hugh Moore Fourth Row Richard Eley Jumbo Seward David Young Ira Lee Andrews Jackie Rackley Nelson Ramsey K. Warner Tri-Hi-Y Fall Term President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Chaplain Adviser Janice Wine Ruth Tipton .. Betty Love Keys Donna McElwain Sylvia Osmunclson Mrs. Eileen Knaus Sprinti Term President Janice Wine Vice-President Sylvia Osmunclson Secretary Ruth Tipton Treasurer Donna McElwain Chaplain Janet Congclon Sargeant-at-Arms Betty Love Keys First Row Second Row Third Row Ruth Tipton Delores Puckett Frances Bailey Sylvia Osmundson Charlotte Wall Jane Cone Donna McElwain Barbara Richardson Frances McGee Janice Wine Annette Bailey Dolores Landon Betty Love Keys Connie Traylor Pat Burton Mrs. Eileen Knaus Nancy Mallory Jean Kitchen Phyllis Rafneli Janet Congdon Nancy Wamsley Nancy Gailey Lola Faison Shelby Harrison T-Albright Tri-Hi-Y Fall Term President Ann Wagner Vice-President Nancy Harville Secretary “Bookie” Pngh Treasurer Joyce Long Chaplain Pat Vaiden S))rin Term President Barbara Goodman Vice-President Nancy Harville Secretary “Bookie” Pngh Treasurer Joyce Daniel Chaplain Poggv Wilburn First Row Joyce Long “Bookie” Pugli Ann Wagner Nancy Harville Pat Vaiden Second Row Third Row Fourth Row Carol Price Margaret Hunter Barbara M ' infield Betty Lou Cole Leilani Johnson Ann Ozmar Faye Davis “ Wmdy” Wilkerson Shirley Brooks Sue Moody Mary Talinage Betty Harvey Sharon Clark Peggy Lou Wilburn Joyce Daniel Betty Lou Ramsey Kay Dunnivant Gayle Peoples Barbara Goodman Pence Tri-Hi-Y Fall Term President Betty Hinton Vice-President Mary VVoodruin Jones Secretary Nell Roper Treasurer - Janet Bntler Chaplain Skippy Richards Spring, Term President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Chaplain Second Row Kay Scoggin Gayle Swanson Pat Harris Marlene Braver Yvonne Vosliall Betty Stanton Joan M ' right Betty Hinton Janet Butler Betty Stanton Susan Elliot Virginia Meade Mann First Row Skippy Richards Janet Butler Betty Hinton Mary Woodruin Jones Nell Roper Third Row Virginia Meade Mann Nancy Blankenship Anne Robertson Phyllis Tatum Betty Bowser Betsy Hargrave Fourth Row Nancy Gill Barbara Stanton Betty Ratnell “Scottie” Steele Ir ’ing Lewis Dottie Gill Susan Elliott Hiiiniif Key Club Fall Term President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Adviser Jerry Moyer .. Bobby Duncan . Donald Lockett Arlick Brockwell Mr. Jack Temple Spring Term President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Donald Lockett Bobby Duncan Bill Feazel .. Kenneth Ellis Second Row Fletcher Wriglit Read McGehee Bobby Oslin Jack Bortz David Young Ira Lee Andrews Bobby Laney First Row Bobby Duncan Arlick Brockwell Jerry Moyer Donald Lockett Mr. Jack Temple Third Row Sandy Evans Kenneth Ellis Sidney Sutherland Jack Evans Russell Early “Skitchy” Rudy Nick Ruffin Fourth Row Landon Smith Howard Bedford John G. Francis Bill Feazel Tommy Marek Jimmy Rust Norman Wong “Ham” Evans Jack Harvey Library Staff President Bill Scott Secretary David McCants Reporter Frances Bailey Facidtij Adviser Mrs. Gladys Spencer First Row Second Row Third Row Betty Jean Britt Frances Bailey Shirley Moore Vivian Williams Jacqueline Kirkland Skippy Richards Jane Cone Doris Stark Phyllis Whitmore Pat Vaiden Page Tipton Carolyn Moon Frances Stone David McCants Charlotte Slate Jeanette McMullan Bill Scott Christine Scott Shirley Stevens Minnie Harrup Caroline Little Joyce Daniel Parker Cunningham Nancy Procise Mrs. Spencer 1 i I Projection Crew Adviser Mr. H. S. Holmes First Row Second Row Third Row Gerald Nollies Marshall Hughes Billy Shiner Sandy E ans Jinnny Rust Mr. H. S. Holmes Lawrence Lee LaVerne Hartle David Bass BilR- Hoheck Those Not in Picture Tommy Berry Gilbert Martin M ' oodrow Traylor LaVan Price Varsity Cheerleaders Head Cheer Leader Betty Hinton Assistant Head Cheer Leader Charlotte Pugh Adviser Miss Mary Bailey First Row Betty Hinton Charlotte Pugh Second Rotv Barbara Richardson Janet Butler Mary Woodrum Jones Lynne Schellberg Harriet Wyche Nell Roper Fret Roper T Idl ' d Row Bobby Howerton Bill Scott Tucker Ramsey Fletcher Wright Burton Alexander J. V. Cheerleaders Head Cheer Leader Nancy Fowler Adviser Miss Mary Bailey Left to Right Dottie Gill Jill Hess Betty Bowser Nancy Fowler Susan Elliot Betsy Hargrave Miss Mary Bailey Football Squad Co-Captains Woody Traylor, K. B. Maddrey Manager Terry Collett Coaches Mr. Roland C. Day, Mr, Randolph Mallory Mr. Frank Teass, Mr. Casper Kidd First Roiv Winston Lcath Ed Burton “Sandy” Evans “Skitciiy” Rudy Woody Traylor K. B. Maddrey Skee Bowman Jerry Moyer “Fox” Ramsey Read McGehee David Young Second Row “Claybo” Ramsey Nick Ruffin Robert Powell Kenny Dickinson Irving Sanford Joe Watson Bobby Duncan Lloyd Pugh Billy Engels George Wilkinson Roland Bowles Third Row Gharles Wray Barry Spero Remmie Rowlett Jack Evans Fred Swearingen Stanley Kamm Arlick Brockwell Donald Frenier John Francis Fred Gill Fourth Row Tommy Burnett Sherman Lubman Maynard Sanford Jim Adler Herb Glarke Henry McGill Tom Berry Randolph Hinkle Basketball Sqeiad Co-Captains .. Jimmy Smith, Clarence Dodson Coach Mr. Robert Kilbourne First Roic Second Row Third Row Skitcliy Rnd - Sands’ E ans Jolin Stuckey Herbert Clarke Bobby Hatchett Landon Smith Curt Adkins Tucker Ramses ' .lolm G. Francis Clarence Dodson Bobbs ' Duncan George Dempses’ Jiinins ' Smitb Fox Ramsey Terry Collett Co-Captains Coach - - First Row Bernard Saxon Nicky Belcher limniv Ogburn Wally Underhill Henry Cates Douglas Vaughan Baseball Team K. B. Maddrey, Clarence Dodson Mr. Randolph Mallory Second Row “Buck” Massey Prince Fuller “Buck” Rogers Jimmy Smith K. B. Maddrey Eugene Thompson Third Row Mastin Kitchen Clarence Dodson Douglas Vaughan Bobby Hatchett Bobby Duncan Fred Swearingen Coach Randy Mallors ' Hockey Squad Co-Captains Anita Webb, Kit Johnson Manap,ers Barbara Stanton, Betty Addison Coach Miss Ann VanLandingham First Pune June Walker Virginia Slade Catherine Blair Joan Wright Lola Faison Scottie Steele Second Row Miss VanLandingham Juanita Puryear Katie Paxton Nancy Gill Betty Harvey Gayle Swanson Elizabeth Bowen Girls’ Basketball Team Co-Captains Anita Webb, Juanita Puryear Coach Miss Ann VanLandinghain First Row Second Row Third Row Delores Puckett Shirley Tyner Barbara Baldwin Catherine Paxton Sylvia Gardner Dawna Dow Anita Webb Betty Addison Barbara Jones Juanita Puryear Shelby Harrison Betty Beryl Harve ' Elizabeth Bowen Judy Powell Nancy Gill Betty Bowser June Walker Kay Sheffield Miss VanLandinghain KAop ' Sard Ysiiod KX ' Oioixiixu) Js Slow ? Aliss lock J?jn hm£ ic, G a smw,£ tei ai dlu-h I ' ostbfl.il s- Ca aiwns Xi3iU i.j nu AA ? 5lu[ogrQpfis “Utrigtnta IfautiM” PROLOGUE • • • By Harriet Wyche O. VIRGINIA, Captain John Smith said, “Heaven and earth never agreed better to frame a place for man’s habitation.” Here in Virginia, our own great nation was born on May 13, 1607. Here is a land of history and tradi- tion, of unsurpassed beauty, of famous old homes, and of fertile fields. Some of the students in our school who have vis- ited throughout “The Old Dominion,” have written on the sights of beauty which they saw. We shall travel from the golden sands and blue ocean to valleys, to the “Mountain Empire,” through mountain passes, and on a “highway in the sky.” We shall visit the historic scenes where the first colonial settlers struggled for survival. Four beautiful homes of great Virginians beckon to us to admire their beau- tiful architecture and spacious grounds. Snowy- white fields of cotton and green fields of tobacco and com line the country roads. We shall behold the magnificent beauty and the unequaled wonders of Mother Nature. Masterpieces of stone produce awe-inspiring and spec- tacular sights. Now let us begin our trip through the picturesque mountains and scenic lowlands, through our dear state, “Virginia the Beautiful.” The Missile page five Nature’s Wonderlancl The most spectacular natural wonders of the world are found in “The Old Dominion.” A rock bridge hewn by a little stream, beautiful underground “rooms” and tall chimneys can be seen. A lake on a mountain and beautiful Fairystone Park are fascinating and unequaled creations of Nature. These lovely spots grace Virginia with unsurpassed beauty. I Natural Bridge hij Mary Skipwith Richards Indian legend tells us that long before the English reached the shores of Virginia, Indian tribes roamed the plains, the val- leys, and the hills. Once the Shawnees, noted for their cruelty, joined forces with the Powhatans, another warlike tribe, and fell upon the Monocans, a more friendly nation. The Monocans, who had suffered a famine that year, were weakened, and many of their braves fell in battle. After a long struggle, they retreated, but were pursued relentlessly. In a strange forest they came upon a high, rocky chasm. The stream running far below at the bottom of the chasm was like a tiny silver ribbon. No one could jump the hundred-foot chasm. No one could descend one sheer- cliff, and ascend the other. The Mono- cans fell upon the ground and cried to the Great Spirit to spare them from the ap- proaching enemy. One of the braves went to the edge of the abyss and found that the Great Spirit had built a great natural bridge across the chasm. Heartened by “The Bridge of God,” the Monocans passed over, and turned to defend it successfully against the enemy. As delightfully as the story is told in the Indian legend, let us look to the true facts about the formation of this magnificent arch for the real miracle. Think of a tiny stream, beating relentlessly for century after century, assisted somewhat by wind, rain, and sand, which finally produced this massive span. Natural Bridge, in Rockbridge County, Virginia, is one of the seven natural wonders of the world. It is the only real natural bridge in the world, as it is the only one that works for a living. Over it a busy highway runs. As a young man, George Washington surveyed the bridge. Visitors are always eager to find his interesting surveyor’s marks. Thomas Jefferson once owned “the rock” as a grant from the King. He kept a cabin there for visitors, and sent many interesting shrubs from France to adorn the nearby countryside. The Missile page six I visited the bridge one August evening. With a large group of other visitors, I walked down a steep, winding pathway to the valley. There, looking up, one really comes upon the splendor and grandeur of the spectacle. Towering 215 feet above the stream below, the bridge has a span of ninety feet, and is from fifty to one hundred and fifty feet wide. In summer evenings “the rock” is il- luminated by floodlights which bathe it alternately in soft and brilliant lights, while, from a concealed amplifier on the slope, the valley sings with beautiful organ music and the story of Creation. The visitor is filled with awe as he hears the words of the Scriptures and listens to the beautiful strains of such music as Grieg’s “Morning” and Wagner’s “Evening Star.” Natural Bridge is truly a monument to the artistry, skill, and patience of Mother Nature. II Mountain Lalee by Janet Butler IVlouNTAiN LAKE, about 1,500 fcct abovc sea level, is located in Giles County, Vir- ginia. The lovely lake, situated half-way up a mountain, is a favorite summer re- sort of many Virginians as well as resi- dents of neighboring states. My first impression of Mountain Lake was that of a foreign country, maybe Switzerland or Sweden. The big hotel with the lofty peak of “Bald KnolA’ rising in the misty background first caught my eye. During my vacation, one day was spent hiking to the top of this mountain where five states are visible. Then my gaze wandered over the beautiful grounds spread out below me. Rustic log cabins in a wooded area line the shores of the two-mile, fresh water mountain lake for which the resort is named. Though I enjoyed my trip up the moun- tain, the next day I found out that moun- tain climbing and I just don’t get along to- gether. I was so sore that I decided it would be better for me to spend the day lounging in the hotel. I glanced through several scrapbooks depicting the history of the Lake. As early as I860, there was a recreation center on this site. Since the farmers in the surrounding area used to salt their cattle in the lake, it was known as the “salt pond.” After I recovered from my soreness, I had very little unoccupied time. Swim- ming in the icy water, horseback riding and hiking over beautiful woodland trails filled every hour. As if my day activities weren’t enough, I spent many gay nights in the hotel. After an elaborate dinner, the spacious recreation room is opened. There I learned to play shuffleboard and ping pong. Before I could realize it, my vacation was over. As I was leaving Mountain Lake, I paused to take one final glance at the mountains and water. The lake, surrounded by many tall and graceful trees, reflected the gold and rosy glow of the setting sun. To me, this scene showed nature at its height of beauty! The Missile page seven III Vir ginia s Natural Cliimneys by Frances Bailey SING like seven ancient castle spires toward primitive skies, the “Natural Chim- neys” of Vii ' ginia stand as monuments to the awfulness and wonder of the God of Nature. To the archaeologist the “chimneys” are weathered limestone towers formed by the lapping waves of an ocean billions of years ago, and the erosion of a small stream. To the seeker of beauty, however, they could be medieval castles covered with Virginia creepers as ivy and with scrubby cedars for silken flags fluttering on the crests. In 1834 George Cook published possi- bly the first description of the “Chimneys” in a southern magazine in which he gave them names. In a playful mood, he named one of them “Hymeneal Altar” because the shady grove in its rear seemed a per- fect place to “mantle maiden blushes.” The tallest he called the “Tower of Babel”, but probably “Leaning Tower of Pisa” is more appropriate because it slants exactly thirteen and a half feet off the perpen- dicular. This figure is identically the same as the inclination of the Pisan tower, which sways on its base. The Virginia tower, however, maintains its position. The towers possess an interesting his- tory. Many written accounts of their un- usual beauty have been published and many great men have passed beneath their majestic heights. Because of the more impressive rock formations found elsewhere in the United States, Virginia s “Natural Chimneys” are not so well known as they should be. However, since the latter part of the nine- teenth century they have continually grown in popularity until today the many roads that lead to them are well used and crowded with tourists as well as persons who merely enjoy the beauty of nature unharmed by man’s prying fingers. Every year in August, the “Chimneys” offer an incomparable setting for one of the nation’s oldest jousting tournaments. This colorful event has been an annual affair for over one hundred years, and the resemblance of the “Chimneys” to medi- eval castles adds the perfect atmosphere. Suggesting the ruined battlements of some prehistoric war, these towers rise out of the fertile plain of the North River in the Shenandoah Valley, a living monu- ment to the Lord of Nature. IV Tlie Luray Caverns by Martha Lee Williams The beautiful Luray Caverns of Vir- ginia are located a few miles off the Sky- line Drive. When I arrived at the Caverns a guide was appointed to show us around. I could hardly restrain my anxiety to start the tour through the caverns. We entered a spacious hall where sou- venirs and pamphlets were sold and from there entered a small hallway leading to- ward the caverns. Then I realized, at last, we were to begin our long-awaited ex- cursion through the “underground rooms.” The Missile page eight One place that interested me very much was the Giant’s Hall. Glittering stalactites formed beautiful columns of rich browns, yellows, and reds. Standing next to the awe-inspiring formations, I felt very tiny. Winding through the wide corridors, our party soon came to the most beauti- ful formation I saw. This was Titania’s Veil, a very large and lovely masterpiece of snow-white stone in the outline of a woman’s veil. The gorgeous white color surrounded by shades of rich salmon was a perfect example of nature’s handiwork. Another impressive and lovely “room” was the Ball Room. The room was very large and the ceiling was covered with different sized stalactites shaped almost like icicles. It was certainly as beautiful as any ball room I had ever seen. Other places of interest that I saw were the Fountain of Youth, hollow columns which gave out bell-like notes, the Swiss Gottage Way, and the Double Golumn. At the end of the tour our guide stop- ped to relate some of the history of Luray Gaverns. As we left the underground fairyland of stalactites and stalagmites, I realized I had fulfilled my life-long desire to visit the beautiful and famous Luray Gaverns. It was difficult to believe that all the formations had been made by na- ture alone. As we walked out of the building we could hear the sweet ringing of many bells. This was the Singing Tower of Luray lo- cated only a few hundred feet away. It was a carillon consisting of forty-seven imported bells. As I listened to the music my gaze wandered over the beautiful peaks of the Blue Ridge mountains in the distance. The beautiful sound of the bells provided a perfect ending to my tour of the Luray Caverns. V Fairy stone Parle by Janet Butler Located about fifty-five miles northwest of Danville, Virginia is the very beau- tiful Fairy stone State Park. Since I lived for quite a while in Danville, my friends and I made frequent trips to Fairystone Park. Perhaps you may be puzzled over the strange name of the park. There is an interesting legend connected with its name, which like the legend of the dog- wood, is associated with the crucifixion of Christ. It is told that at the time when Christ was crucified, the fairies who lived in this mountainous region were so grieved that they cried for many days. When their tears hit the ground, they turned into tiny stones, shaped like crosses. At the park the tiny stones are now sold in the form of jewelry and are supposed to bring good luck to the owner. At Fairystone Park there is a beautiful fresh water lake. I have often taken ad- vantage of its excellent facilities for swim- ming, boating and fishing. Like most state parks, it furnishes picturesque picnic grounds that are patronized by families, church groups and clubs. I have spent many enjoyable days in the quaint little cottages which are set back in the shady woods a short distance from the peaceful lake. I believe that the true beauty of nature can be enjoyed only when one lives in close contact with it. My delightful vacations spent at the beautiful and scenic Fairystone State Park were certainly experiences I shall never forget. The Mis page nine Spring Songs by Clarissa Mayfield I Awakening The sleeping forest stirs and wakes. Shakes old leaves from her hair. {She’d left them there when she slept last fall. Much too tired to care. For summers dancing had lasted long— Till winter was almost there.) The last of sleep is washed away By a light rain, fresh and clean. She scatters flowers in her hair And chooses a dress of green. Then in the clear and sparkling brook She admires the lovely scene. She smiles and lets the sun burst in To brighten everything. Sits down upon the hill to wait And bids the birds to sing. Then, at last, along the road. Comes striding her lover. Spring. II Rememkered Spring When yellow flowers bloom each year And the air is suddenly softly singing, I remember a spring in a far-off land Where through wide-flung windows there was winging A lightly-fingered melody. And cathedral bells were gently ringing. I wonder if I could return there now. Cross the seas in an instant’s flight. And climb my hill to look down on the river That fades into blue as it drifts from sight. Would I find the moon still caught in the waters. And trembling blossoms pale in the night? Would the streets still echo with people out walking. Glad to be free from the winter’s cold. And young girls in white dresses coming from churches. Passing the corner where lilacs are sold? Must each spring bring this same sad longing? Oh, I shall go back someday when I’m old! The Missile page eleven Beauty’s Daug kt ers A ROYAL ROAD threads from the playgrounds and seashore of Vir- ginia Beach, through the beautiful Shenandoah Valley, to the lofty peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Virginia Beach with its roaring blue ocean and golden expanses of sand and dunes, and nearby Cape Henry present beauty, history and an excellent vacation resort. What could be more beautiful than a trip through the Shenan- doah Valley, a fairyland of color and natural beauty? Perhaps you may enjoy winding through the majestic Blue Ridge Mountains or through Goshen Pass, decked with rhododendron, dogwood, and laurel. From the seashore, to the valley, to the mountains, the beauty of Virginia is at its glorious height. I Beautiful Daugkter of tke Stars by Barbara Goodman 0 F ALL THE TRIPS my family and I have taken— and they are quite a few— I found no place that intrigued me so much as my tour through the historic and beauti- ful Shenandoah Valley. Since my home is in the Tidewater sec- tion of Virginia, the beauty and loftiness of the mountains first attracted me. When we first entered the valley, the sun was just rising above the peaks, and as I look- ed across the mountains, there seemed to be endless ranges fading into the misty distance. As I followed the winding highways, 1 noticed the fertile wheat fields had rip- ened to a golden brown. This was in contrast with the blue-green pastures where hundreds of sheep and cattle were grazing. The Indians once called this fertile region “Beautiful Daughter Of The Stars”. The beauty and traditions of Virginia’s famous Shenandoah Valley have inspired many song-writers and poets to center their themes around this scenic, natural playground. The parks and natural wonders never cease to atti ' act tourists to the “Old Do- minion”. I was entranced by many of nature’s underground wonderlands such as Luray and Grand Caverns. The odd formations of these are just incredible. The unique formation of Natural Bridge held me spellbound. The rich shades of gold and red clay were revealed as the rays of the sun shone on the bridge. Since it is unequaled in beauty and nature. Natural Bridge has been selected as one of the seven natural wonders of the world. The Missile page twelve Traveling along the Blue Ridge Park- way, we soon entered the famous Shen- andoah National Park. As I rode along the highway, magnificently shaped trees seemed to form mysterious barriers on either side of me. The sunlight pene- trating the forest growth set each leaf aglow with golden lights. In the spring, in addition to the enchanted forest growth, there is a profusion of mountain laurel, dogwood, azalea, rhododendron, and oth- er flowering shrubs and plants. This color display of unsurpassed beauty painted in my mind a picture never to be effaced. In my opinion, the valley is at its height of beauty in the springtime when every hill is dotted with a maze of pink and white fruit blossoms. The air is filled with the fragrance of the apple blossoms, and the trees wave their lacy branches toward the blue sky. We soon entered Winchester, the lead- ing city of the apple industry. This his- toric city attracts many people to its annual Apple Blossom Festival. Roanoke, the “star city of the south,” is located near the southern end of the valley. Its huge, man-made star on top of Mill Mountain can be seen from many miles up the valley. As we left Roanoke, I looked back once more to see the “star of the valley”, which seemed to enlighten and recall to my mind all of the beauties and wonders and pleasant times I experienced during my trip through the Shenandoah Valley. II The Fah ulous Blue Ridge Mountains by John Willis Rvery year, thousands of travellers come to visit the Old Dominion to see the first permanent English settlement in America, the early Colonial capital, or to revel in the grandeur of the magnificent mansion at Monticello. Of course, every- one likes to drive along the Skyline Drive, and to attempt to capture permanently the grace and beauty of the majestic Blue Ridge mountains. The best place to start is at the beginning, and so, if possible, you should do as I did and start at Front Royal, Virginia. On the first section of the parkway, we were either going through, or looking down on, the Shen- andoah National Park, one of the prettiest parks in this section of the country. The first big town we came to was Waynesboro. There we stopped to refuel the car and refresh ourselves. It was ten in the morning, and although it was July, sweaters were the fashion. Up in this part of the country, it does not begin to get warm until mid-day, but in the afternoon, it is warm enough to go swimming. That is, for the rugged individual who can sur- vive the icy mountain lakes. But by late afternoon, it begins to turn chilly again, and the cold sets in for the night. After Waynesboro, the next important place on the trip is a state fish hatchery near Monticello. There little mountain lakes afford very good fishing, for they seem to be well stocked. The fishermen have to wade out on treacherous rocks in the freezing waters, and have to fight not only the fish, but the swirling water and slippery rocks. Although the rugged mountaineer fisherman made it look fun and simple, I still prefer the boat rides on the James river and tightline fishing. From the parkway, you can get an ex- cellent view of the city of Roanoke. This was where we left the convenience of the parkway and struck out for home. On the way back, however, we hit one of the The Missile page thirteen most interesting spots of the whole tour. It impressed me so that I took mental notes and did some reference work when I got back to the camp. The spot I am telling about is a section of the mountain range between Bedford and Lynchburg. Sometimes called the Grandstand of the Blue Ridge, they are officially known as the Peaks of Otter. This is real Indian country. Arrowheads have been found there which are authen- tically recognized as the oldest on this continent. More virgin timber is there than anywhere else in the Old Dominion. From there you can look to the south- western part of the state and see an enor- mous mountain towering far above any- thing else in sight. According to the map, this is Mount Rogers, and it is 5,719 feet tall. Looking to the north, we saw Apple Orchard Mountain, and since the mountain climbing had excited my ap- petite, I would like to have been over there, if the name is any indication of the mountain. The Peaks of Otter are composed of two ascents: Flat Top, which is about four thousand feet above sea level, and Sharp Top, which is slightly less than one hundred and fifty feet lower. The peaks are very graceful and inviting, and are covered with trees unlike some of the mountain ranges of the west. There is a passageway between the two peaks on which Indians, chiefly Cherokees, once lived, and since the place looks romantic and offers adventure, the collector of In- dian culture and arrowheads probably would have a field day there. I feared however, since I had read and heard so many of the natives’ legends, that if I found an Indian arrow, there would be an Indian on the other end, so I spent the time wearing a blister on my heels trying to see everything about this enchanting place. There seems to be a romance about the mountains. An egg-shaped boulder, twenty-five or thirty feet high used to be delicately bal- anced on the crest of Sharp Top. With one hand, a man could rock it back and forth, but no matter how hard he labored, he could not push it from its base. This phenomenon seemed to challenge youth to a contest. About 1820, a crowd of young men determined to send the boul- der crashing down the mountain. On July 4, they gathered on the peak and set to work. They tried first a lever, but the boulder barely budged, so great was its weight. They tried dynamite, but it was equally a failure. Finally they applied wedges, and after much persuasion, the great oval dipped eastward, and plunged down the mountain. With a great thud, it embed- ded itself in a spur of the peak. In 1852, the people of Bedford County determined to make a suitable contribu- tion to the Washington Monument, then under construction in the nation’s capital. They blasted a fragment of the boulder and sent it to be dressed in Lynchburg. Today, it can be seen on the west wall of the Washington Monument, greeting tour- ists at the twelfth landing on the stairway. On it is this inscription: “From Otter’s Summit, Virginia’s loftiest peak. To crown a monument To Virginia’s noblest son.” I understand that there is some legend connected with the name of the moun- tain. More than likely it is named for the Cherokee word, Ottari, meaning moun- tain, or it could be connected with the Otter River, and named for the funny Legend about the memorial stone borrowed from the Autumn, 1951, issue of Virginia Cav- alcade; an article entitled, “The Peaks of Otter: Grandstand of the Blue Ridge” by W. M. E. R.” The Missile page fourteen brown animals which are found in great numbers in the region of the peaks. If you ever have the opportunity, see the sun rise from one of the mountains. You seem to recollect all of the old paint- ings you’ve ever seen about sunrises. And the glorious sunset also is an unforgetable experience. It lasts for an hour and grows more sensational eaeh minute, and before you can fully wake up, darkness is upon you, and you start thinking of all the things you’ve seen and heard that day. And the harder you think, the more real they be- come. And on such a day in those fabu- lous mountains, you lose track of time and trouble, and at the close of the day, you can seem to hear the wind singing, “The End of a Perfect Day” through the pine trees. Ill Little Swit2;erl and by Mary Skipwith Richards C3ne warm August afternoon, I went with some members of my family to visit friends who had a summer home on Goshen Pass. As it happened, we drove the entire length of the pass and found the entrance to our friend’s place only on our return. Although there are many sum- mer camps and homes alo ng the pass, none ean be seen from the highway, and the entrances go in at an angle and wind about in sueh a manner that even they are not noticeable. Except for the excel- lent highway and the one memorial mark- er, the pass is as natural as it was when it was the trail of the elk, bear, and red men who went across the mountain hunt- ing food. We entered the pass twelve miles from Lexington. It is a gap four miles long cut through the mountains by the Maury River, and flanked on both sides by tow- ering walls of green, rising thousands of feet into the sky. In spring and early summer these green walls are brilliantly and lavishly splashed with rhododendron and mountain laurel. Shadows fall aeross the highway, sometimes in solid sheets of shade, and sometimes in the most delicate lacelike patterns. One time, as we were driving along admiring every foot of the way, I looked ahead and saw another sheer cliff of green rising right up in front of us. I thought surely that here we must turn back, but just as I noticed that my uncle had no intention of stopping, I saw the bend in the road. All along the highway one hears, but seldom sees, the Maury River. Sometimes it winds close to the highway, sometimes far away. It gurgles in spots where it passes over small boulders, and roars fu- riously as it caseades over huge ones. The sound of the river is always present. At one spot along the pass is a roughly hewn granite shaft. At its base is a huge old anchor, with a mighty length of chain twined around it, and marking off the small enclosure where the shaft stands. Affixed to the shaft is a bronze tablet, with a bas-relief of Maury’s head within a cir- cle. This is a simple and suitable memor- ial, the work of sculptor Guiseppi Moxetti, to Commodore Matthew Fontaine Maury, “The Pathfinder of the Seas.” Maury so loved the pass that, on his deathbed, he requested that his body be kept in Lexington until the rhododendron bloomed, and that it then be borne through Goshen Pass, and on to its final resting place in Hollywood Cemetery, Richmond. Maury’s death oceurred on February 1, 1873. Funeral serviees were held for The Missile page fifteen him in Lexington, and with the corps of cadets of the Virginia Military Institute, where he had taught many years, as an honor guard, his remains were placed in a vault in the Lexington Cemetery to await the journey to Richmond. When the time came, the h earse, once more ac- companied by cadets, professors, and friends, carried the remains of the great Virginian through his beloved and beau- tiful pass. Goshen Pass was once known as Dun- lap’s Gap, and later as Strickler’s Pass. Both names were from local families. Prior to the coming of the railroads, it was the stagecoach thoroughfare connecting Lexington with the west. The pass is considered by many the loveliest spot in Virginia. In the early spring thousands of visitors drive through it, and thousands return for a repetition of the thrill. It has frequently been called “Little Switzerland.” Goshen Pass is certainly one of Virginia’s most gloriously magnificent scenic wonders. IV Playground o f tke World by Jill Hesse Orystal, clear, calm azure waters, gold- en sands reflecting the brilliance of the sun, porpoises jumping playfully from wave to wave — all these could bring thoughts of but one place to my mind, and that is Viiginia Beach, one of the na- tion’s playgrounds. Where else is any more beauty than a spot which has a com- bination of land, water, and sky? No- where, I believe. Aside from beauty, the Beach offers re- laxation. It can make you forget a busy week at school or office. The cool waters are soothing and refreshing, unless you step on a crab. This happens frequently and although funny later, it is not quite so humorous at the time it occurs. I think the Beach is one of the few places where people seem, with one ac- cord, willing to cast aside all their trou- bles, relax, and have fun. I also believe no one who ever went to the Beach look- ing for a good time could come home and truthfully say he didn’t enjoy himself. The view from the tremendously lo ng and famous boardwalk is a spectacle in itself. Standing on the boardwalk, I loved to look down to see the brightly colored and Oliver Rudy umbrellas and bathing suits. Watching the people swim was entertaining as I saw a small boy take his first stroke in the ocean; and almost tragic as I saw a man calling for help and a life-guard giving him the strong arm he needed for sup- port. For the ocean is as deadly as it is beautiful. A storm brewing in the Northeast means trouble. Lasting for days, this storm turns the ocean into a swirling, engulfing death which can strike at any time; however the sea after a storm seemed to me clearer, calmer, and bluer than before, for the ocean was meant to be beautiful and use- ful and not destructive. Just north of Virginia Beach is Gape Henry, a spot of great significance, for here on the twenty-sixth of April in the year 1607 three weather-beaten ships dropped anchor, Virginia was claimed for the King of England, and the cape was named for the Prince of Wales, who was later to give Virginia her rich-name “The Old Dominion.” Raising the flag of Eng- land on this territory concluded a five months’ journey which began in Decem- ber, 1606. The Missile page sixteen From this point the “Sarah Constant,” the “Goodspeed” and the “Discovery” took the colonists up the James River to the site of Jamestown, which was the first permanent settlement in the New World. Nearly two hundred years passed, and nothing was done to commemorate the history of this place or to guide the in- creasing number of ships which passed in and out of Chesapeake Bay. Ship- wrecks multiplied and colonists began to light a bonfire on stormy nights, but they didn’t give the needed aid. In 1720 Governor Spotswood urged that a lighthouse be built. Succeeding gover- nors made like pleas, but no action was taken. A ray of hope broke through in 1774 when stone was bought from a Rappa- hannock quarry to build a tower. This movement, however, was halted by the Revolution. The lighthouse was finally built in 1791. While there, I was very much impressed by the size of the tower, which is ninety feet in height and is situated on a sand dune, also ninety feet high. I will always remember those sand dunes, miniature mountains, offset by an ocean-blue background. Another lighthouse was built in 1881. Then in 1935, a stone cross was erected on the site of the actual landing. I think those two towers have a special meaning to me. They mean the linking of the Old World with the New, and they show the progress of this land since that early pe- riod in American History. Coming back to the Beach, I saw a ma- jestic sight. Out on the misty horizon was a mighty aircraft carrier, showing forth all the power and brilliance which make it one of the finest ships in the world. I saw many boats of all kinds, but this one especially caught my eye. That is how I remember the Beach. All the calmness of the ocean, the blue of the sky, the gold of the sand and all the excitement that goes with it. A play- ground of the world, a wonderland of beauty, this is Virginia Beach. owers by Harriet Wyche From clouds of gray the lightning streaks; The thunder claps and. rocks the sky. From the sea to plains, to mountain peaks. The misty rain falls down from on high. It bathes the leaves of elm and holly And softly seeps into the ground; Plays with the grass and rose in its folly And scarcely seems to make a sound. Fulfilling duties and cares on earth. Each little drop of rain, it seems. Perhaps to a little seed gives birth Or fills the flowing mountain streams. Still falling, falling in silver sheets. It softly bathes the fern and flowers; Each plant awakens and joyfully greets The gently falling April showers. The Missile page seventeen Tke City at Twiligkt by Juanita Pur year I hate to see the evening crowd of cars; The trucks and taxis, autos, busses and bikes That jam the avenues from curb to curb. And illuminate the twilight with brazen beams From headlights which pierce the purple shadows of dusk And blind the weary home-bound women and men. It pains my brain to hear the honking horns And squealing brakes that blast the silent night. It stings my nostrils and sickens me to breathe The nauseating smell of burning gas And the stench of rubber sliding across cement. It inakes me long for untrodden trails and roads. For quiet hills and open fields that are free From fear of impending danger or sudden death. Again I want to feel the clean cool air Caress my smoke-dried cheeks and smarting eyes; To inhale the odor of honeysuckle shrubs Or the fragrant, refreshing aroma of rain-soaked grass. Nigkt Breeze by Connie Traylor The breeze, a playful kitten, fled Across the sky of night. The stars they winked, as she passed by While trees glowed in the light. The moon smiled down to watch it all And chuckled at the sight. Across the lake on furry paws Rippling its calmness still. Then up within the forest black To flee beyond the hill. And then to run the grassy field; Bending at her will. But soon she tires of playful jest. And. with one final leap She clears the mountain summit high. And takes the valley deep. As with a warm, contented purr. She nestles down to sleep. The Missile page nineteen Tke Good Eartk “Carry me back to old Virginia, There’s where the cotton and the com and ’tatoes grow—.” Imagine the old plantation “darkies” working in the open fields of snowy-white cotton on the vast green fields of tobacco and corn. Chanting their old spirituals, they worked day in and day out for their master. Today, though the former plantation life has disappeared, Vir- ginia is proud of its agriculture and the abundance yielded from “The Good Earth.” Tke Good Eartn by Bill Scott The blaring horn of an expensive au- tomobile announced the arrival of Mom’s oldest brother, Henry. He had spent the years since his last visit growing more prosperous on his dairy farm in Wisconsin. Uncle Hank hadn’t seen me since I was seven, so I went through the Youtine of being mistaken for my oldest brother. This brought the usual laughs. After all the welcomes and excitement Uncle Hank contrived to talk to me alone. “Jumper,” he said, calling me by a child- hood nickname, “tell me about this state of yoms.” A bit taken back, I hesitantly started to tell him which cities housed the larger industrial plants. At this he good-naturedly laughed. “No, no,” he chuckled, “I mean the farm- ing.” Well, this would be easier. I began to recite. “Farming here is as varied as that of any of the forty-eight states. The climate and terrain make Virginia ideally suited for a wide range of products. She ranks high in production of corn, tobacco, pea- nuts. ...” Here Uncle Hank broke in again. “I can find out about production statistics anytime. Tell me about the crops in the field.” “Well,” I started anew, “suppose we start with corn. Farmers of every state are familiar with corn, and what could be more indicative of progress, health, and beauty than a waving, rustling field of corn on a sunny day, or the crackling sound of growing corn on a hot night? “Or peanuts. Picture the long, parallel rows of green with a tractor methodically The Missile page twenty cleaning the brown earth between. Pic- ture, too, the evenly spaeed brown shocks, like miniature haystacks, where the pea- nuts stand in prepaiation for threshing time. “King Cotton himself nods his bushy white head sleepily over the rieh earth of some of our regions. The darkies chanting in the field as they picked the cotton have largely been replaced by the huge and ponderous picking machine. “Then there’s the tobacco, green and sticky in the field, yellow and fine tex- tured in the barn. The aromas from the curing barn make it easy to imagine why the Indians chose this delightful poison as their symbol of peace.” “What about the cattle?” interposed Unele Hank, his still youthful eyes be- traying his wish for a more familiar subject. Taking the defensive, I answered: “We don’t rank with Wisconsin or some of the other states yet in that department, but dairying and beef raising are our fast- est growing branches of agriculture. You are probably familiar with the immaculate, highly-productive Holstein and the small- er Guernsey and Jersey. “Personally, though, I prefer the beef breeds. The rugged, square frame and lordly bearing of a white-faced Hereford or woolly blaek Angus hold no hint of the doeility of the dairy breeds. “I like to picture a sloping, white-fenced pasture dotted here and there with these sturdy animals. “Hogs, too, can be pretty on occasion. It seems strange to me that seores of tall, white-banded Berkshires in a corn field have not inspired poets as have compar- able scenes. “This picture is rendered more appeal- ing if one anticipates a few Smithfield hams, the very mention of which tanta- lizes appetites the world over. “In some parts of the state, mostly out where Kentucky’s blue grass laps over into Virginia, we grow some mighty fine horses, too.” Here I stopped again and looked in- quiringly at Uncle Hank. He seemed not quite satisfied with my answers. “Haven’t you forgotten something, Jumper?” he grinned. “Remember, to a man from Wisconsin this is almost a jungle.” Trees! I hadn’t thought of them as agrieultural products before, but I saw his point now. “Yes, Uncle Hank, I guess a stand of tall, straight pines singing in the wind is as inspiring as anything an artist ever looked at; stands of oak, too, with their seasonal ehange of dress. “Speaking of trees reminds me of our orchards. Mostly apple orchards, they lie over in the Shenandoah Valley. There’s as fine a sight as you could hope to gaze on. Neat rows of symmetrical trees, their green dotted with red when the fruit is ripe. In the spring when the trees bloom, their beauty is even more enhanced by the intoxicating perfume of the blossoms, like-” Uncle Hank here smiled appreciatively at my inability to express myself. “What about the farmer himself. Jump- er?” he inquired. “Well, Uncle Hank, I suppose the Vir- ginia farmer is about like any other Ameri- can farmer. He’s strong, physically and spiritually; his nearness to the workings of God gives him deep respect and love for the Creator who so directly influences his life. He will live long, for he leads the best life on earth. Beyond that, you can only say that he is another human being.” “You two come and get washed up for supper,” interrupted Mom. “It won’t stay hot all night.” The Missile page twenty-one Tke Spring by Phyllis Hirshhorn Every year in the month of May, We all may see what happened that day When God created the sea, the sky. The trees, the earth, where men live and die. For Spring must be His Season of Love Which He gave to show from His throne above. The rippling brook awakes from its sleep; It begins once more to run and leap; The clouds shed their gray and dress in their white. As the sun again shines with a radiance bright. Thus God shows me in this beautiful scene What the Day of Creation must have been. For Creation to me seems just like this. As if God had blessed every spot with His kiss; Each flower, each bush, each budding tree Brings this one thought always to me: As God created the Heaven and Earth, Spring is the tale of this wonderful birth. NigLt Mist by Jack Harvey When the last red ribbons of sunlight fade And the blanket of night o’er land is laid. The shadowy mist in her silvery veil Descends on the hollow, hill, and dale. It touches each leaf with its sparkling dew. And soothes and cools their burning ache; It hangs in stillness o’er twinkling stream. And paints the night as a silver dream. It touches each leaf with its sparkling dew. While the moon on the mist adds a tender hue; The mist on the land forms a gentle, soft haze. And encloses the night in a Heaven-like maze. The Missile page twenty-three Tke Cradle of America C3n may 13, 1607, three ships landed at Jame stown, Virginia. This was the first permanent English settlement in Ameriea. Here the history and heroism of Captain John Smith, Pocahontas, and the hardy colonial settlers have woven themselves into unforgetable legends and stories. Jamestown remained the capital of Virginia until the State House burned. The capital was then moved to Williamsburg which con- tinued as a center of government and colonial culture for eighty years. Today Williamsburg has been restored to its former grandeur. Now let us visit Jamestown and Williamsburg, truly “The Cradle of America.” 1 Old J ames Towne by Barbara Winfield K.IDING across the two miles from Scot- land Wharf to Jamestown Island, I watch- ed as our ferry disturbed the natural love- liness of the sunbeams dancing bn the water. As my eyes followed the graceful course of the river into the distance, the color of the water blended beautifully into the magnificent azure blue of the sky. Before me the Island loomed closer and closer, and the sun seemed to pour un- limited radiance on old “James Towne”, the cradle of our English civilization. Ap- proaching the dock, I recalled stories about the landing of the Sarah Constant, the Goodspeed, and the Discovery, the old sailing vessels on which the first settlers came to the New World. I began my tour of the island at the lofty white Jamestown National Monu- ment on which is carved the wise counsel given the colonists for prospering and achieving success for their country. They were told “to serve and fear God, the Giver of all Goodness.” I entered the handsome ivy-covered iron gates which led to the memorial grounds and first passed the delicately molded statute of Princess Pocahontas. Nearby is the striking bronze figure of Captain John Smith, the fearless leader of early Virginia. Around these famous per- sonalities many stories have been woven into history and legend. Following a much-trodden pathway to the right, I then gazed upon the beautiful and historic Jamestown Church tower. This stately and magnificent structure is partially covered with glossy ivy which adds much to the grandeur of the old church. The original hand-made bricks, which still remain, have faded into ex- quisite colors of pink, blue, and orange. The Missile page twenty-four Surrounding the Memorial Church, re- stored in 1907, is the ancient graveyard where lie buried many of the early settlers. Perhaps the most interesting graves are those of the Reverend James Blair and his wife, Sarah Harrison, which, although at one time side by side, have been separated by a grotesque old sycamore tree. Anxious to see more of the grounds, I left the old church and followed a path lined by many old trees. I saw one tree that really caught my fancy. It was an ivy tree. Evidently ivy once started grow- ing on the trunk of a tree and now has completely covered it. It even has branches of ivy extending from it, and I’m still wondering how ivy could grow into branches, but I guess that is all part of nature. The pathway wound around huge breastworks built during the Civil War, and then I came upon the founda- tions of several buildings built during co- lonial times that have been recently excavated. All of these beautiful sites are part of the wonderful history of James- town Island. Too soon my interesting and impres- sive tour was completed, and I realized that I must leave. As I left the Island, I looked back and saw the striking monu- ment which seemed to stand for all the perils and haidships endured by the first settlers at Jamestown Island. II ' Tkat tke Future May Learn from tke Past ' ' by Barbara Stanton ILLIAMSBURG IS FUN.” At thcSC warm and alive buildings in Williamsburg you are greeted by hostesses in Colonial dress in tiue Southern style. In the craft shops you can watch the bootmaker at the cobbler’s bench; the cabinetmaker at the lathe wheel; the printer at the press; and the blacksmith at the forge, just as you would have found them working during the eighteenth century. The apothecary will offer you a pinch of snuff, the gaoler will allow you to put your head in the enlarged holes in the pillory. In all of Williamsburg there is not one sign that says do not touch or do not go BEYOND THE ROPE Or KEEP OFF THE GRASS. When the capital of the colony was re- moved from Jamestown in 1699, the city was laid out and named Williamsburg in honor of William III. It continued to be the capital for 80 years, and during that time was the social and political, religious, and educational center of Virginia. An area about one mile long and a half mile wide has been fully restored to its appearance in the eighteenth century. This restoration was the dream of the late Rev. Dr. W. A. R. Goodwin, and was made a reality by Mr. John D. Rockefeller, Jr. at a cost of more than thirty million dollars. From 1699 to 1780, Williamsburg was ranked as a colonial capital with Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Charleston. Most of the tours of Williamsburg start at the little Court House. It is noticeable for its curious jutting porch, which has no visible means of support. Here on exhibit one may find relics that were found during the restoration and photographs of the restoration during various stages. The Capitol is one of the two major works of the construction, the other be- ing the Governor’s Palace. Upon entering the Capitol, the visitor is greeted by a hostess in her costume of 1748 or thereabouts. The hoops of her skirts are so large that one wonders how she makes it through the doors, until you The Missile page twenty-five see how deftly she hoists the hoops, port and starboard, to make the entrance. The building was originally completed in 1705, burned in 1747, and reconstructed 4 years later. The second building also burned. The Capitol of 1705 has been rebuilt on the foundations of the original structure. It has been furnished in ac- cordance with ancient records of the Vir- ginia Colony. This beautiful red brick building is built like the letter H. It has round, rectangulai ' , dormer, and arched windows. There has been much talk about prison reform in this country, but the chances are that you have no idea how inhumane the early prisons were until you’ve visited the Williamsburg Gaol. Even with can- dlelight, the cells are so dark that you can hardly see them. The people were fed by slits in the walls, and heavy chains are fastened to the floors. The prisoners were allowed to exercise in a narrow passage- way with no roof for a few minutes daily. The gaolers had their quarters right in the prison. There are a parlor and dining room on the first floor and a bedroom on the second. Moreover, at least one of the gaolers had children. This was indeed a dangerous job for any man. Minor offenders were publicly ridiculed in the Gaol courtyard. Their heads were locked in the pillory and their legs in the stocks. If the present edge of the board on which the victim sat is authentic, then the stocks must have been a form of torture. Raleigh Tavern was a center of social and political life before the Revolution. George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Patrick Henry were only a few of the patriots who helped make history in this tavern. It was in the Apollo Room that students of the Gollege of William and Mary are said to have founded Phi Beta Kappa Society in 1776. Raleigh Tavern is by far the most im- portant tavern in Williamsburg today. This old tavern is furnished with fine old I8th century pieces. No meals are served there today, but this was once the most fashionable place in the colonial town. (George Washington did not sleep here. The tavern was so noisy, he stayed at Mrs. Gampbell’s across the street— so he wrote in his diary. ) “Symbol of the dignity and power of the crown, the Governor’s Palace reigns in Georgian splendor at the head of the Palace een. With its many outbuild- ings, elegant formal gardens, a canal, and bowling green, all smTounded by a hand- some brick wall, this seems more like a plantation than a town house.” During the battle of Yorktown, the Pal- ace was used as a hospital and the 156 soldiers who died here were buried in the formal garden. Their graves, without markers, were discovered when the resto- ration began. What was left of the outbuildings were used for a century as private homes, and these disappeared during the occupation of the northern army in the Givil War. When the raikoad came, it laid its tracks right across the site, and then a factory reared its ugly head at the north end of the garden. To make the desecration complete, a particularly hideous school- house was built on a part of the old palace foundations, facing the Green. The Palace is so lavish it almost takes your breath away. The more one looks at this piece of restoration work, the more we are, as the hymn puts it, “lost in won- der, love, and praise.” It contains beau- tiful 18th-century pieces from all over the world, especially from England. Rich black walnut panels the main entrance hall and then continues up the wide cir- cular stairway, giving an impression of solidity, strength, and elegance. The downstairs rooms, including the dining room, balkoom, and supper room, are ex- tremely formal, having been designed pri- marily for entertaining. Here the governor gave fabulous parties for hun eds of guests at a time. Upstairs the governor relaxed with his family and close friends. Here you will see his luxurious bedroom and the private parlor where he lounged in a chair with The Missile page twenty-six a velvet footstool, smoked his pipe, read, and drank punch which he seasoned to his taste with spices from an olivewood chest on the table. The wall covering in his parlor is hand-tooled leather from Spain. There are guest bedrooms on this floor, too. The third floor contains additional bedrooms but is not open to the public. Within, each room is a treasure cham- ber of the past. It is impossible to call attention to any special items out of the thousands there. The Palace is a piece of restoration work that has never been attempted before in this country. To appreciate what meets the eye at every glance would mean many visits and the presence of a guide who had shared in the work. The Governor s Pal- ace is the crowning achievement of the Williamsburg Restoration. All the rooms in the exhibition build- ings are gay with flowers except in winter. Only those kinds of flowers grown in the 18th-century Williamsburg are used, in containers popular during the period. Tucked away in a courtyard behind the guardhouse are the service quarters, a bustling village of homey white clap- board-and-brick houses with broad brick chimneys that are barely visible from the gardens. There are a kitchen, scullery, laundry, wellhead, smokehouse, and salt- house. A maid in costume makes bay- berry candles in the scullery, and the cook moves about in her kitchen in long skirts, apron, and white ruffled cap. She some- times sits in a shoo-fly chair; a foot oper- ated treadle swings the overhead moplike contraption that shoos flies away. Conveniently opening onto the kitchen courtyard are the wine cellars. These cellars are in the original foundations and are dark, with a musty smell of old wine stored in ancient kegs. Nearly all of the original foundations were found when the excavations began. The lines of the walls, steps, pond area and drain pipes showed clearly in the earth. The Palace Gardens are as formal as a “curtsy” and reflect the elegance in which the governors lived. As in all Williamsburg gardens the em- phasis is on design, rather than planting material. The central section of the gar- den is laid out carefully with neatly clip- ped hedges forming diamonds, squares, circles, and rectan es. Standing guard over this section are the “twelve apostles”, twelve huge box trees. To the west of this section are the holly maze and terraced gardens down to the canal. The Wren Building on the campus of William and Mary still has some parts of the original walls. This is the oldest aca- demic building in English America. Virginia’s Liberty Bell still rings in the tower of Bruton Parish Ghurch, on the west side of the Palace Green. This is one of the most historic churches in America. The exterior and interior have been completely restored. Its aisles are stone-flagged and its old benches are ma- hogany painted white. Names on the high white pews are in memory of the planters and statesmen who worshipped there when this was the official court church of the colony. The gallery of the church was reserved for William and Mary students, who were locked in for each service and the key turned over to the sexton. You can still see student names carved in the handrail. The costumes that the hostesses wear are not graceful, but this particular cos- tume was selected to avoid the elaborate headdressing which went with later styles. A hostess has seven dresses; three percale or muslin for use in the summer; three woolen ones for use in winter, and a taf- feta or brocade dress for evening wear. Each hostess has buckled shoes, caps, and capes, and each costume is designed to suit the individual’s build and coloring. When visiting this colonial town that has been reconstructed, you can sense a new understanding of our American heritage. You feel a deep sense of kinship with the people who lived so long ago. Yes, “Williamsburg is fun.” The Missile page twenty-seven Metapkors by Frances Bailey I A Tree In spring a trees a woman, young and fai r. Awakened from her slumber by the sun. The bee, her lover, finds the wonderous sweetness Of the fragrant blossoms in her hair. As time flows by, the summer with its power Finds her alone. Her lover now is gone. Yet bravely still she primps, although the foe. Dread winter, advances with each new-born hour. But in the fall her weary fingers slow. Her radiance faded by the rush of time. With shudders as the autumn chill she knows. Her beauty she surrenders to the foe. Winter, laughing gayly o ' er his prize. Surrounds her with his dreaded cloak of gray. She helplessly in supplication stands And lifts her old gnarled fingers to the skies. II On Little Tilings Laughs are chubby little girls. With sparkling eyes and golden curls. Who can the darkest grouch beguile. And turn his frown into a smile; Who never did a stranger find. Nor was to any beauty blind. When she leaves, all worries go. And lingers still a rosy glow. A naughty little boys a frown. Who turns the household up-side-down. Who kicks the cat and pulls his tail. And causes little girls to wail. Whom no one loves but mother dear. And all the neighboring gardeners fear. And all the world in dire despair Walks off, and leaves him frowning there. The Missile page twenty-nine Four Beautiful Homes The spirits of four great men live in their beautiful Virginia homes. The outstanding arehiteetme of these mansions and their elegant beauty and eharm have inspired architects all over the world. On the banks of the James River, Westover, the home of Colonel William Byrd, II, founder of Richmond, is situated. Spacious lawns look beyond the gardens to the river. Overlooking the Potomac River are Mount Vernon, home of George Washington and Stratford, home of General Robert E. Lee. Last, but certainly not least, is Monticello. Unlike the river homes, Thomas Jefferson built his beloved home on a beautiful mountain. Words are inadequate to describe these beautiful and famous estates, reflecting the elegance of their early days. I Mount Vernon by Elizabeth Bowen O NE of the most beautiful as well as famous American shrines is Mount Ver- non, the home of George and Martha Washington. It is situated on a bluff overlooking the winding Potomac River. Standing on the spacious lawn at Mount Vernon, I looked down at the Potomac below me. The view of the winding river was very lovely. There is a tradition on the Potomac River concerning Mount Vernon. Ad- miral Sir George Cockburn, commanding naval officer of the raid on the city of Washington in 1812, unintentionally start- ed this tradition. After the raid he was sailing down the Potomac River and pass- ed Mount Vernon where Washington had died a few years earlier. He ordered that the ship’s bell be tolled as he passed there. Whether it was in defiance or admiration of our first president, no one ever knew. Since then boats traveling on the Potomac toll their bells as they pass Mount Vernon. To me one of the most impressive things about this plantation home is the outstand- ing white high-columned portico which extends the length of the house. Wash- ington always liked to have chairs on the veranda where he entertained his guests. I could understand why he entertained there, because the view of the river from the veranda is very pretty. Tlirough the years the original furni- ture of Mount Vernon has been restored. All the furnishings of Washington’s bed- chamber are originals. The beautiful an- tique furniture in the dining-room was especially lovely. I could almost imagine The Missile page thirty the elegant ladies and gentlemen, dressed in their elaborate clothing, eating at the table. Of course, I mustn’t forget the old slaves, so anxious to please their master and mistress as they patiently served the food. Leaving the house, I strolled through a beautifully landscaped area of groves, lawns, and formal gardens. One path led down through a grove of trees to the river’s edge. The flower garden and kitchen garden are placed to the left of the bowl- ing green. The kitchen garden contains vegetables known to have been in Wash- ington’s original garden. The flower gar- den is noted for its tall and beautiful boxwood hedges. There are also many varieties of eighteenth century flowers. This beautiful country mansion repre- sents to me all the old, but never-to-be- forgotten, charm and beauty of Colonial Days. II Monticello by Harriet Wyche Beautiful monticello is located on a gracefully rising mountain overlooking Charlottesville, Virginia. Thomas Jeffer- son, architect as well as statesman, de- signed and built his lovely home. At the time I visited this beautiful man- sion there had been a recent shower. As we drove up the mountain to Monticello, the trees and foliage around us seemed to glisten with rain drops. I could well understand why Jefferson chose to build his home on this mountain. I was first impressed with the architec- ture of Monticello. It seemed that Jef- ferson’s personality was portrayed in the grandeur of his home. The beauty of the rose bricks was emphasized by the white woodwork. The lofty entrance portico was supported by graceful white columns, which are so typical of Jefferson’s archi- tecture. As I entered the spacious entrance hall at Monticello, the first thing I noticed was a strange looking clock. Jefferson loved to design various devices and furnishings which I saw throughout the house. The elaborate clock I was speaking of indi- cated not only the hours but the days of the week. The dining-room was very lovely. I have never seen such a gorgeous mantel- piece as the one in this room. There are beautiful Wedgewood designs on it. Jef- ferson had so designed the mantelpiece that in little panels on the sides wine bot- tles rise from the cellar on one side and descend empty on the other. One of the prettiest bedrooms I saw was “Madison’s room.” The bed was set in a little alcove. The alcove bed was one of Jefferson’s space-saving ideas. The colors of the room were pale yellows and creams, and a marble fireplace was at one end. Furniture throughout the house shows Jefferson’s ingenuity and originality. May- be it’s just because I’m lazy, but the in- vention I was most interested in was a device in which he could work and re- cline. The seat of the chair and the top of the table revolved conveniently. The spacious grounds at Monticello are also very lovely. Beautiful mountain shrubbery and plants surround the house. On either side of the mansion two tall trees rise and seem to stand like sentinels on guard. The Missile page thirty-one The beautiful and stately yet simple charm of Monticello is unequalled any- where. As I looked at the peaceful home, it seemed that Monticello stood aloof from the cares of the world. Here on the moun- tain the house overlooks beautiful rolling lowlands. Thomas Jefferson, so proud of his home, once said, “All my wishes end where I hope my days will end, at Mon- ticello.” Ill Stratford On Tke Potomac by Elizabeth Bowen Stratford was built about 1730 by Thomas Lee and stands on the banks of the Potomac River. One is impressed with the unusual and interesting shape of this beautiful brick home. It is H-shaped which makes all rooms accessible to one great hall. This spacious and beautiful hall is one of the largest paneled rooms in Virginia. An exquisite chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and heavy draperies hang from the top of the windows to the floor. I was greatly interested in the sunny “Mother’s Room” where Robert E. Lee, the famous Civil War general, was born. The room itself is very dainty and pretty. There was a tiny little cradle at the side of the big bed which rocked Lee as a baby. This bedchamber was very sunny due to huge windows which reached al- most from the floor to the ceiling. I particularly enjoyed visiting the kitchen. There is a huge brick fireplace large enough to roast an ox. This is typical of kitchen fireplaces of that period. Pots, pans, and other kitchen utensils help to present a perfect picture. I could almost imagine the old “darkies ’’ dressed in bright colored clothes as they prepared the meals. The first floor is raised fifteen feet off the ground. This gives the effect of a one-story house. The minor rooms are on the ground floor with the major rooms on the first floor. The grounds at Stratford have been carefully restored, and a lovely boxwood garden is at the back of the house. A huge brick barn and the stables have also been restored and are in use. Stratford on the Potomac is an excellent example of colonial estates and represents rural life at its best in early Virginia. IV Westover On Tke Tames by Betty THE SUN rises across the James River, it smiles on one of the most beautiful colonial mansions, Westover. I approach- ed the house, a fine example of Georgian architect, by the garden side. A walk- way leads up to the door through two Stanton great gates of handsomely wrought iron. Atop the main entrance posts are the “Birds” with outstretched wings which symbolize the owners. On the beautiful gate is the monogram of William Byrd who built this lovely home during the The Missile page thirty-two early eighteenth century. This ornamen- ted gate is unique among the colonial homes of Virginia. It is said that William Byrd once wrote to a friend in London, “In a year or two I intend to set about building a very good house.” I’m sure that I and everyone else agree that Westover is indeed a “very good house,” to say the least. I was greatly impressed with the many shady old tulip poplars growing on the spacious lawn. Beautiful boxwood was growing down to the river’s edge. This handsome estate has one of the most beautiful doorways in America with interesting three-sided stone steps leading to the door. Above the door is the pine- apple which signifies hospitality. To me, Westover is exquisite in detail. It has many decorative trimmings and many beautiful carvings in the interior. The house is furnished in many rare pieces of heirloom furniture of the fifteenth cen- tury. I shall never forget this elegant old James River estate. This home of old brick and partly covered with ivy is a masterpiece of architecture in the Old Dominion. ICit rar . ' li .1 ■Yl ' - ) W S }. ■ ■( ■• sTk:- ' ■ ■. 4 ■ ' J ,■ ‘ Jt • ' ' • i :J ;♦ .,;V ,r ■ • ' ‘4 The Missile page thirty-five Blind Date by Nell Roper Breakfast is ready, Mary! Please hurry or you will miss the bus.” “Right away, Mother!” Mary Morgan didn’t get up at first. She just lay there in her bed dreaming about the long school day that was to follow. Her mother called once more, “Mary, the bus isn’t going to wait for you this morning, so you’d better get down here right away!” She quickly put on her blue plaid dress, her socks, and flat-heeled tan shoes. Dur- ing the time she was dressing, her only thought was of how monotonous it was going to be to sit in school on such a beau- tiful morning. Finally Mary reached school and was on her way to algebra class when she ran into Joyce Fields. Joyce was a very at- tractive girl, and she certainly did have her share of dates. M ary must have been deep in thought, for she did not feel Joyce tugging at her blouse. “Hey! Mary! Snap out of it. You must have really slept hard last night!” Mary looked up from her books and found Joyce nervously tapping her on the shoulder. “Mary, I was wondering if you would do me a favor? ” “Oh, uh-h-h-sure, Joyce! What is it?” “Well, I’ll tell you; I have a cousin who has been in town for several days, and I was wondering if you might like to go out with him tonight. You see, he has met several nice boys, but I haven’t as yet introduced him to any attractive girls. What do you say?” Mary was so excited that she could hardly open her mouth. “Oh yes, Joyce! I’d love to! ” “Well, good, Mary! We’ll pick you up about seven-thirty if that’s all right.” “Certai nly, Joyce! That will be fine!” The school day finally came to an end, and Mary could hardly wait to get home to tell her mother what had happened at school. After Mary had revealed the news to her mother, she immediately went next door to confide in Fred Allen, her life- long friend. Fred and Mary had always thrashed their problems out together, and they seemed to understand each other perfectly. Mary came bursting into the Allens’ liv- ing room and found Fred showing a friend of his a new rifle. Fred introduced his friend to Mary as Bill Kress and explained that they were examining his new gun. Mary excitedly began to tell Fred about her “blind date. ” The three of them got into deep conversation about their social lives, but more especially about what they expected of a date. Mary glanced at her watch, and, noticing that the time had The Missile page thirty-six quickly slipped away, she excused her- self and went home to dress. It was almost time for her date to ar- rive, and she began to get “butterflies” in her stomach. A million questions be- gan to pop into her mind. What was he going to be like? How old was he? She wished that he would be only half as con- siderate as Fred or Bill. The time finally arrived for her date to pick her up, and she found herself ner- vously stroking her long black hair. All of a sudden her heart stood still. The doorbell rang, and she could hear familiar voices in the hall. Mary quickly gath- ered her coat and purse and started down the steps. Without hesitating she quickly entered the living room, for she knew that if she paused before going in, she might lose all the confidence that she had in her- self. When Mary went into the parlor, Joyce quickly got to her feet and said, “Mary, I would like for you to meet my cousin. Bill Kress. Bill, this is Mary Morgan.” The two teenagers were so surprised that they burst into gales of laughter and quickly left the room! Joyce slowly turned to Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, who were seated in the living room, and remarked with amazement and curiosity, “Did I say something wrong?” True Love by Anne Robertson Loves not always cheerful, And love’s not always gay. But it leaves in the heart A wonderful glow That will there forever stay. Love can make you tearful. And love can make you blue. But there is no joy That can compare To the joy in love that’s true. True love is like sweet music. Music that’s always new. For when you’re in love You’ve a song in your heait That keeps trilling the whole day through. The Missile page thirty-seven An Enligktening Experience hij Betty Hinton Let’s ride on the subway! That perfectly harmless suggestion met with my approval immediately. What could be more exciting than a ride on the subway for the first time in the big city? My expectations of excitement were certainly fulfilled—if you want to call al- most being crushed to death in a half crazy mob of seat-seekers exciting. What they were in such a hurry for I’ll never know since all the seats were taken and had been from early morning it seemed. Why anyone could possibly want to hurry just to be one of hundreds standing in a stuffy aisle being jostled and pushed to death is a mystery to me. Nevertheless, push they did. Mothers with darling, squalling babies made no impression at all upon the thoroughly in- different men who happened to have the good fortune to obtain seats. Rudeness seemed to be a quality in mass production in this underground world of brightness, noise, and loneliness. Even after losing a shoe and regaining it with some difficulty, chasing my hat, which a perfectly darling little boy had become quite attached to, dropping num- erous packages which were instantly de- stroyed beyond repair and feeling as though I had been through an obstacle course, I was still thrilled over my first experience on the subway. It was such a beautiful day—at least it had been until I left civilization— that I felt nothing but friendliness for all of the human race. I forg ave the sweet child who had quite openly stolen my hat and attributed it to the fact that it did rather resemble a piece of pie with a scoop of ice cream on top. He really was a charm- ing boy— such calculating little blue eyes —and I could easily buy another hat. Yes, I had a smile for everyone. Maybe that was why the lady standing next to me, who had been thinking my feet were the floor, asked me to hold her baby while she combed her hair and put her hat back on. I could have told her it was useless and probably against the rules to look neat on the subway, but I’ve never been one to discourage self-improvement and the baby was really precious, so I took it glad- ly. Using my most motherly tone, which is anything but motherly, I ti ' ied to quiet the baby who for some reason had be- gun to wail as soon as she looked up into my loving face. “Don’t pay no attention to ’er, dearie, said Mother. “She cries all the time.” “Yes, I’m sure she’s a dear, ” I replied sweetly, upon which the little monster bit my finger. “I see she has quite a few teeth,” I said. “Oh, yes,” replied Mother. “She’s al- ways chewing on anything handy.” I knew I had to straighten things out with this kid. She wasn’t a dog and I was certainly not a bone! Mother had finish- ed her beautifications and decided to take Baby so I let bygones be bygones. At last I saw a seat across the aisle, and after quite a bit of maneuvering I grate- fully sat down with a long sigh of relief. Now I could really begin enjoying my ride. “Times Squaie,” yelled the conductor . My destination! Let’s face it— you can’t win on a subway. Just give me a car, bus, or— best of all— my own two feet! The Missile page thirty-eight Musings by Mary Woodrum Jones I Infidelity I cried last night. I bowed my head and wept. For faith destroyed and pride annoyed. For vanished fun and things undone, I cried before I slept. 1 had a friend. 1 thought her true and fine. ’Til jealous thought that sprang from naught Caused, her to tear and little care That the heart she tore was mine. This I have learned In reasons harsh, cold light: Friends do not use nor, yet, abuse. So when I cried, then something died. I will not cry tonight. II Life 7 know not whence the cloud appeared That sunny April’s day. But suddenly it threatened me And I turned the hometvard way. The lightning flashed. The thunder rolled. ’Twas an awesome, grim display. I cringed in fright beneath an elm. Head bowed J could not see. Then all at once its fury spent. The storm had ceased to be. The sun came out And above my head A bluebird sang to me. And so it is with life, I thought. We go our tranquil way; Then suddenly the way is blocked And we bow our heads to pray. Then faith dispels The clouds of fear And happiness fills the day. Ill Fligkt’s End Soaring in the heavens On an autumn’s day. Birds a-wing, I saw them Flying on their way. Steadfast in their purpose. Following the sun. Knowing they would find refuge With their journey done. Breathlessly I watched them; Then my heart took wing Soaring upward, onward. Like the birds that sing. Knowing if I trust Him, Who is the sparrow’s friend, I, too, will land in safety When I reach flight’s end. The Missile page thirty-nine Tke Power of tke Rocks by La Verna Smith Billowing white clouds passed grace- fully under a pale blue sky, and bright summer sunlight showered a warm glow over the entire Atlantic. “Here we are!” Marilyn cried. “Hurry up and park, Daddy!” little Susie commanded. Marilyn’s eyes were gazing thoughtfully at the wide blue Atlantic whose boundar- ies seemed to stretch endlessly. Bluish waves were rolling rhythmically on to the shore with almost an air of expectancy. “Here’s your crutch, Marilyn,” Mr. Banks remarked, helping his teen-age daughter out of the car. “Oh, thanks.” But Marilyn’s thoughts were now centered upon that pile of rocks clustered together not far from the board- walk. She had spied them as soon as they had approached the beach. At first she had thought of them only as a black pile of useless, jagged rocks sitting alone at the edge of the Atlantic. But now, they seemed to create a chilling and threaten- ing atmosphere -- a contrast to the sur- rounding tranquillity about her. Waves that rolled slowly on the shore seemed to dash against them almost ferociously, and somehow every time Marilyn looked at them she had a strange feeling of unex- plainable anxiety. Scarcely had the family settled them- selves on the soft yellow sand when eight- year-old Susie begged, “Mother, may I go in the water? Please. Everybody’s out there!” “Well, all right, but just for a few min- utes.” Sure, everybody’s out there! Susie’s words had stuck in Marilyn’s mind, and she thought, “Everybody but me! And oh, that water looks so good. Just look at that girl swimming toward those rocks. Her legs get her places! Mine only hold me back! For two years now all I do is sit. Every place I go, I sit! Susie was in the car when we had that accident, and just look at her out there. She’s as free as a bird!” Marilyn’s thoughts were interrupted when Susie came running gayly up to her. She was dripping wet and her bare feet running through the smooth sand made a squeaky noise. “Sit down, Susie,” Mrs. Bank commanded. “It’s about time we had something to eat.” “I’m not very hungry,” Marilyn replied. “You’re crazy!” Susie informed her. “I’m starved! Hurry, let’s eat. I want to finish so I can play on the rocks with the other kids.” “Yes, those rocks are entirely different from everything else around here,” Mari- lyn thought. The pointed and jagged uneven edges seemed to stand out master- fully. To Marilyn’s vivid imagination these sharp edges formed various shapes: first a ship, then a tree, next a child’s smil- ing face, and then a child crying. The Missile page forty Disturbed, Marilyn was relieved to hear the gay voice of her little sister saying, “Come on, bury me in the sand, Marilyn.” Automatically Marilyn followed her sis- ter’s request. Picking up a handful of the soft sand, hot from the pounding sun, she gazed at the waves rolling serenely on the shore and wondered how those ugly rocks could have ever gotten there. Susie heard her sister, who did not real- ize she was speaking out loud, say, “But v hy should those rocks scare me? Look at everybody playing on them. I must be crazy!” “You sure are crazy!” Susie exploded. “Gosh, those rocks are fun. I’m gonna go play on them.” Observing the gaiety about her, Mari- lyn tried to watch a little boy bury himself in the sand. However, the child failed to hold her interest, and she found herself watching restlessly the children on the rocks. With a sudden chill Marilyn noticed that the sun had gone in, and that the blue sky was being replaced by ugly dark clouds. The air about her held a disturb- ingly cold chill, and people who moments before were carefree and relaxed were hastily gathering their belongings. No longer were the waves rolling gently on the sand, but now roared onto the beach threateningly. Bathers were running out of the chilling water. “I wish Susie would hurry,” Mrs. Banks remarked as she started toward the car with their belongings. “Stay here, Marilyn. I’ll be right back to help you.” Remembering Susie’s interest in those menacing rocks, Marilyn turned her eyes toward them. Is that someone out there? Marilyn wondered as she began working her way out of her wheelchair. Although the threatening waters dashed against the rocks heartlessly, still they retained their powerful and masterful appearance, and they seemed to Marilyn to be totally un- aware of the turmoil about them. Curiosity getting the best of her, Mari- lyn grabbed her crutches and walked slowly to the edge of the water. Now she could feel the first drops of rain and hear thunder roaring. She was now only about five feet away from the boardwalk and no more than ten from the rocks. Sud- denly, she heard someone screaming. There was someone out there! It was SUSIE! ! Forgetting the two years she had de- pended on others and resigning herself to helpfulness, Marilyn, unaware of what she was doing, dropped her crutches and began working her way toward the rocks. Upon seeing her sister clinging to the edge of the rocks, Marilyn automatically began moving her arms, and then her legs be- hind her. She was startled to feel them kicking at first slowly and then gradually faster. Reaching the slippery rocks, she found Susie, afraid to jump, clinging desperately on to the jagged rocks. Marilyn grabbed the frightened child off the rocks into the chilling, unsettled water. She was thank- ful that Susie could swim, and that once in the water she managed to do so. Moving with the angry current this time, Marilyn, amazed at the strength she felt in her legs, began working her way toward shore. Reaching land, she fell exhausted into her father’s arms. Neither her experience on the rocks nor the rain pounding against the car win- dows seemed to dampen Susie’s spirits. Her main concern seemed to be the trip home. However, she suddenly exploded, “Hey, Marilyn. I thought you couldn’t swim any more!” Without waiting for or expecting any answer she went on, “You’re right about those rocks. They’re no good!” Aloud Marilyn remarked, “Yes, Susie. Those rocks gave you a good scare!” To herself she added, “and they gave me back the strength I’d lost, or at least I thought I’d lost!” And no longer did the vision of those bleak, lonely rocks at the edge of the At- lantic frighten her, for now just the thought of them seemed to give her added strength. The Missile page forty-one Sour Notes Akead hy Joyce Long A-BOUt the first of JANUARY, my dear beloved musie teaeher appeared at my lesson with a smiling face. I discovered the cause of her exuberance when she handed me four copies of classical piano selections. She told me I had a real treat in store; I would be allowed to choose my own music for the June recital. It turned out to be more of a treatment than a treat. She played through the numbers so that I might decide on the one I liked best. I sat there deeply contemplating this se- rious matter. As luck would have it, I decided on the piece with the trills ( which sounded more like drills— the electric ones ) and all the runs (which turned out to be the general reaction to my performance). As the dreaded month of June drew nearer, a major problem arose. What in the world should I wear to stun my au- dience? From the way I flew around town trying on evening gowns, one might have gotten the impression that I was to play in Carnegie Hall. I made two mis- takes when I finally decided on a full- length white strapless gown. I also did a very foolish thing when I chose my first pail ' of high heels. As time was running out, I refused to look at the calendar. I didn’t know my piece very well, so I had to practice harder and harder. If only I hadn’t picked the one piece with the trills and runs! I thought of everything. Maybe an atom bomb would be dropped, maybe an excursion from Mars would very suddenly appear, and I even considered breaking my arm. After all, you must consider that this was my first formal recital. As old Father Time would have it, the seventh of June arrived. I think I ate supper that night, but ac- tually I can’t remember . I took my bath, and then the time came to put on the beau- tiful “fairy queen” gown. I slipped it over my head, but that “fairy” gown wouldn’t even zip. With great horror, I imagined that I had gained a few pounds since the purchase of the dress. It was with great relief that I discovered that the zipper was caught in the fabric. I tried to walk in my beautiful new shoes, but this being my first attempt with high heels. I’m sure any resemblance between me and a duck was purely coincidental. When we arrived, my fellow sufferers and I were hurried to a small room on one side of the church. The door was closed tightly. I thought of trying to escape, but my teacher was standing guard in front of the door. It seems that she knew her pupils very well. The advanced pupils were the last to play in the recital. This gave the younger children a chance to get their punishment over first. Of course, I fell just about in the middle of the group. I had one blessed hour before The Moment. Oh, the thoughts that passed through my mind in that one sweet hour. As the moment drew nearer and nearer, I could feel myself tightening inside as if some hidden little evil spirit were pull- ing a drawstring that was attached to my nerves. As I started to walk down the “Aisle of Eternity”, I glanced around me. I saw my mother’s anxious face, drawn as in a great fear. I saw cold, heartless, piercing eyes and thousands and thousands of peo- ple. I tried to walk gracefully, but my high heels kept getting tangled up with my long evening gown. I managed some- way to stumble to the end of the aisle and then I saw it. There stood the piano, leering at me like a big black monster that had risen up out of the sea. Calming myself and hid- ing my fear, I sat down on part of that horrible monster. At once a sort of cold numbness over- took me and I couldn’t move my fingers. The Missile page jorty-two Fighting with all my strength, I managed to get my hands on the piano. When I started playing my beloved “O Sole Mio”, everything else in the world was forgotten. I was in a completely diflFerent existence. When I finished, the applause of the very small audience rang out. As I turned to walk gracefully down the aisle, I saw smiling faces, but none so bright as my mother’s. She was actually beaming. Walking back into the little room where my friends were, I kept thinking about the marvelous gift of music. Music makes people gay and happy, music can create an atmosphere, music can calm a person, and music even causes tears. Yes, it was a wonderful world of music I thought as I sat back to enjoy the rest of the recital and to laugh at the tense, drawn, pale faces of those pupils who had not yet played. Faitk . . . . by Juanita Puryear Lonely weeping willow tree, Do not weep any more for me. Do not wave your leaves good-bye; Do not ever sob or sigh. Lonely weeping willow tree. Let your sadness forever flee. For surely winter soon will go And life will return to you, I know. Lonely weeping willow tree. Do not weep any more for me. Life I too cannot retain. Yet I know that I shall live again. by Jerry Moyar Who will spread me with his pen To form a thought for him? For I but take a slight command To please his every whim. Who? It matters not to me. Though 1, an obedient slave. Whose symbols once a nation shook. Can please both king and knave. He to make his lasting fame Or scribe the work of day Has but to use me as I am And put me where he may. The Missile page forty-three Stormy Weatk er by Thomas Russell The crowd hushed as the gray-haired man stepped to the tee. He gazed down the bright sunlit fairway and prepared to hit his little white ball. He plaeed it on a small bit of wood, which he rammed into the ground. He took one last quick look down the fairway, and then he be- gan to swing at the ball. His swing was a beautiful thing to watch. The club flowed smoothly to the top of the back- swing, and then, with seemingly little effort, descended and hit the bail with a sharp smack. The ball sailed down the fairway as if it had been shot from a rifle. Its flight was straight and true and caused the gallery to clap with vigor. The man’s name was John Rogers. He was about fifty years old and was a bit heavy set. He was a successful insurance broker who had always loved golf. His first job was as a junior caddie at a golf course. John had played the game now for almost forty years. This was the state amateur champion- ship, and it had reached the final round. John was fac ing a man fifteen years his junior. This was the first time John had been in the finals, even though this was his eighth state amateur tournament. In six of them he had been eliminated in the first round, and once in the second. John thought to himself that he had never seen a more nearly perfect day for golf. The sun beamed down out of a cloudless sky, and there was just enough breeze to cool things off. The dew from the night before sparkled in the bright sunhght on the wavy green grass. The birds sang in the trees tnat lined the fair- ways. Insects darted gayly about, seem- ingly without a care in the world. All the pre-tournament tenseness left John’s body as he sucked in deep breaths of the wonderful air. This kind of day seemed to affect him deeply. The care- free spirit of the insects crept into his body, and he began to whistle a song. The caliber of his play now was better than it had been in any other part of the tournament. His shots were truer and his drives longer. He appeared unbeat- able on the first nine holes. Everything he tried seemed to work. The gallery were greatly surprised. They had expected to see the younger man win with ease. As the players started the second nine holes, a cloud appeared and blotted out the sun. The birds stopped singing, and the insects took on a new tone. They seemed to be running from some peril. John saw the shadow of the cloud com- ing towards him. It appeared to him to be a eloak which would wipe out his good luck. He looked around, trying to find someplace to hide from the shadow. “What’s the matter, Mr. Rogers? ” asked his caddie. “Nothing,” he replied hastily. “I was just wondering where that cloud came from.” “I saw it just a few moments ago,” re- plied the caddie. “It’s your shot, Mr. Rog- ers. Better be careful. There’s a little bit of wind coming up.” The Missile page forty-four “Do you think I can reach the green with a six iron?” he asked the boy, even though he had already deeided to use it. “I believe you can,” said the boy as he gave John the six iron. John addressed the ball, and then at- tempted to hit it. Just as he was swing- ing, the shadow of the cloud went across him. He pulled the club up just slightly, but this gave the ball an improper loft, and it sailed over the green and into a sand bunker. “Darn that cloud,” he muttered under his breath. The relaxed feeling left his body, and his nerves beeame tense. The enjoyment of the morning was gone, and he did not look forward to the next shot. He blasted out of the trap, but just a little weakly. The ball hit the green and sat on the very edge. John’s putt was too strong, and his second one stopped on the ed e of the cup. This was the first hole he d lost, but he felt there would be others. There were. His game now was medi- ocre. His only thought was to hold out through the eighteenth hole. He eonsid- ered it lucky to make par, now. After the seventeenth hole, John and his opponent were all even. There was a short walk through the woods between the sev- enteenth green and the eighteenth tee. John noticed the trees as he walked. He saw how the wind which had risen bent them over. He also saw how they con- stantly fought to right themselves. He said to himself, “Why can’t I be like the trees, and fight back?” The tenseness once more left his mus- eles, but this time determination replaced it. He stepped onto the tee and hit the ball perfectly. His second shot was on the green within twenty feet of the cup. His opponent was also on, but slightly farther away. The opponent’s first putt was within two inches of the cup and was concedable. John knew that he would not be able to keep this newly found inspired feeling for one hole more, so he determined that he must sink the putt. He sighted along the smooth green, took his aim, and hit the ball. It rolled straight for the cup but gradually slowed down and came to a rest on the very lip of the hole. Just as the gallery was starting to let out a cry, the wind picked up and moved the ball just far enough to fall into the cup. John, amid the shouts of the mob around him knew that foul weather as well as fair could sometimes be your friend. Query . . . hij Phyllis Hirshhorn What is the wind saying to me. As it whirrs and whizzes through bush and tree? Many’s the roar I’ve heard at my door. When a storm comes up and it starts to pour; Yet at times it is sweet and gently swaying. But how can I tell what it is saying? The Missile page forty-five A Bargain by Harriet Wyche H ave you ever been with your mother to a hat sale? I once had that unlucky experience, but I vowed it would never happen again. Mother didn’t need a hat, but in her eyes, a bargain is nothing to be laughed at. Early one hot summer morning as I was beginning to give my dolls their breakfast, my mother’s sweet voice sum- moned me to her. As soon as she caught sight of five year old me, her sweet voice changed to I won’t say what. I was covered with mud from my bare feet to my straight brown hair. You see, this was my baking day, and my inconsiderate mother had disturbed me while baking mud cakes for my dolls’ breakfasts. Need- less to say, I was jerked to the bathroom, washed, and dressed in a sissy old dress. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it had pink bows on it. Of all colors, they were pink! My favorite color was red and nothing but red. I even had to put on shoes— black, shiny patent leather ones that hurt my little toes and squeaked when I walk- ed. I knew better than to complain since my mother and I weren’t hitting it off right this morning. Now were we ready to go down town? Oh my, no! Mother had to run all over the house three times, lost the car keys twice, and give the brainless maid in- structions. I could hear her fussing all the time about the bargains she was los- ing. All that time I sat in a big chair with my favorite dolly, Mary Ann. She was my favorite because she wore a beautiful red dress. At last we were on the way to the sale. We ran through red lights and stop signs. After all, bargains are nothing to be laugh- ed at. Everything went all right ’til we en- tered the department store. Mother had even bought a lollipop for me. We must have been quite a sight streaking through the store. My short fat legs were almost spinning, and in the confusion, poor Mary Ann had a lollipop stuck in her “real” hair. Of course, my mother must beat Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Smith to the sale so she could have first choice of the bargains. Up the elevator, up some steps, down a hall, and around the corner was our des- tination— no, we had to take another ele- vator. Anyway we got there, mother, me, and Mary Ann. Whom should my mother first see but Mrs. Smith! If you could have seen her face, you would’ve died— such an expres- sion of disappointment and misery as I’ve never seen before. Mrs. Smith had beaten her to the sale! I knew mother was blam- ing it all on me, so I decided to make an exit. It was impossible since my little hand was clasped tightly in my mother’s. Mother, pretending not to see poor Mrs. Smith, went straight to work, and I mean work, trying to get to the hat counter. After elbowing her way to the counter through women eight or ten deep, she soon forgot her little daughter, and Mary Ann and I were left to amuse ourselves. We didn’t have to go far to find our amuse- ment. The women, half-crazed over their desire to get a bargain, put on quite a show with my mother the star of the per- formance. The first act went like this: Mother, having fought her way to the counter, began fumbling through the hats trying to find one to suit her. Ah,‘ she found one! It was a grotesque little creation consist- ing of nothing more than a pink feather, not red, and a pink ribbon stretched around a piece of net. I disliked it im- mediately because it wasn’t red. It looked like the mischief on Mother, and she knew it but wouldn’t admit it. After all it was a bargain! The Missile page forty-six The next hat was even worse. It re- sembled something Napoleon might have worn. It was tri-cornered and had cords criss-crossing all over it. While Mother was prancing, rather pushing, in front of the mirror, another woman decided she liked it and grabbed it from her. Yes indeed, she grabbed it right off her head. Then talk about a cat fight— whew! Mother grabbed it back, and before long the hat was no longer tri-cornered but “multi-comered.” Nevertheless it was a bargain. After trying on fifty or more different bonnets of all colors, shapes, and descrip- tions, my Mother emerged from the throng of women. With perspiration drip- ping from her face, she held up her bar- gain. It was red! I liked it! Youlk by Catherine Goodwyn The teen-age years are but a frisky colt. Too young to shed the mare’s restraining lead. Yet urged by growth of heart and limb to bolt. And jump the pasture gate, perchance to feed In farther fields green as a shamrock leaf. The mare is patient with her young. She knows His rebel heart beats faster, bold hoofs pound An eager thunder with each wind that blows; That he will follow every sight and sound Until his years are numbered three or four. And so she gives the proud young colt his way Secure within the knowledge of her kind That he will soon discover shamrocks stay Upon familiar ground; return to find No latch has ever held the pasture gate. The Missile page forty-seven Tke Antique by Ann Lawrence It IS SUMMER in Gaylesville, a small town in the South. The door of Mr. Carter’s shop stands open, and any passer-by can see within the cabinet-maker hard at work. The floor is almost completely cov- ered with wood shavings, and most of the space is taken up with broken-down chairs, tables, desks and other pieces of old furniture. Towards the back is Mr. Carter perched on a high stool at his work counter. His hands show many hours of hard work, and his shoulders are rounded from his usual position of sitting on the stool and bending over his work. He stands about five feet seven inches and is rather old looking for sixty. His hair is quite gray, and his forehead is wrinkled. No doubt he should wear an apron because the smudges of dirt on his faded and worn pants show that he wipes his hands on his legs all during the day. On his face generally there is a pleas- ant smile which tells you that he loves the feel, the smell, and the looks of old wood. His greatest joy is making beau- tiful again these reminders of the past. Today is different. The expression on his face is a disturbed one and his thoughts are buzzing like the flies at his screen door. He says to himself, “If I just had some way to get my hands on three or four hundred dollars, how wonderful it would be to take my nephew out of his wheel- chair and give him his freedom. But with the few dollars his mother and I can save, it will be many a long day before Bobby can have his operation.” His thoughts are interrupted, for, “Cood morning, Mr. Carter,” calls Mrs. Temple as she walks briskly into his work shop. She is a well-dressed woman of almost forty-five. “Cood-morning to you. Ma’am,” is the reply. “Be with you in just one moment. Certainly is a lovely day, isn’t it?” “I should say it is. Now please don’t hurry on my account.” She thinks to herself, “I surely don’t mind waiting a few minutes for him after his kindness towards me all these years. And Heaven knows. I’ve never before seen such skill with wood in one man.” Leaving his work behind and coming to the front, the old cabinet-maker in- quires, “What can I do for you today, Mrs. Temple?” “Oh, I found the loveliest old desk in walnut for Mary’s room, and I want you to do it over, possibly before she gets home for Christmas.” “You can be sure I’ll have it done by then, and how is Mary getting along in college?” “She tells us that she loves it, Mr. Car- ter, but we miss her terribly at home.” “I know you do. By the way, if you’re not in a hurry, I want to show you a tea table I bought on my last buying trip.” “Why, certainly.” The Missile page forty-eight Leading the way through desks, chairs, and tables, Mr. Carter explains, “I got it rather cheap. It’s beautiful mahogany, and I know very old, but I believe it may be even more valuable than I first thought.” Seeing it before Mr. Carter ever laid his hand on the small table Mrs. Temple exclaims, “It’s perfectly lovely! You may be right about its value. I’m almost posi- tive I’ve seen a picture of that very table in one of my antique magazines. I shall look for that magazine the minute I get home.” Greatly excited, Mrs. Temple leaves the shop, for she loves antiques and is fond of Mr. Carter. On the way home she thinks, “I didn’t want to get his hopes up, but I just know I’ve seen a picture of that very table.” Reaching home she immediately goes to the attie in search of the magazine. Thirty minutes later, and a little dusty, she cries, “I’ve got it!” There before her is the picture of the little table, and writ- ten beneath it is the following: Wanted: Information on the where- abouts of this table, historically valuable to the Restoration of Williamsburg. Ap- proximate value $1,350.00. Today has been a busy one for Mrs. Temple, but she can’t wait until tomor- row to tell Mr. Carter the good news. Waving the magazine for all it is worth she hurries into the shop to find Mr. Car- ter sweeping the place before closing. “I knew it,” she exclaims as she pushes the magazine open to the picture in front of him. “Why, it says here it’s worth thirteen hundred and fifty dollars.” A pleasant smile comes over the old gentleman’s face as he pictures his nephew walking again, and his beautiful table dis- played for everyone to see. “It’s truly a dream come true, ” he says with deep con- tentment. Tke Watckman by Janet Butler The moon is the watchman of the night Who silently treads the milky way, Stvinging his lantern, spreading light O’er all who pass the dark hours away In sleep awaiting the break of day. On calmer nights when the sky is clear. The twinkling stars this brilliance share. Each light can be seen from far and near. But a glimpse of this host becomes so rare When a storm invades the still night air. Slowly the moon creeps out of sight To search a cloud with critical eyes. And finding no evil or lurking fright. He continues walking through the skies. As dawn comes up and darkness flies. The Missile page forty-nine On Self-Entertainment by Jack Bortz Since people either associate with other people, or they don’t, entertainment nat- urally falls into two classes: mass enter- tainment and self-entertainment. Of mass entertainment I can hardly say more than that which has been said in the numerous volumes that have been written on that subject. Therefore, I shall endeavor to entertainment myself, and possibly you also, by saying a few words on self-enter- tainment. Self-entertainment is at best a pastime that is indulged in by introverts who are seeking to avert themselves, by diverted ambiverts with inverted tastes, or by con- verted extroverts with nothing else to do. A most common form of self-entertain- ment may be described as follows : the en- tertainer (for so we shall call our solo ensemble) assumes a recumbent position at full length, crosses his feet, folds his arms behind his head, and sinks into a state of complete oblivion. At times our entertainer is so engrossed in his abstrac- tion that he begins to purr, often quite loudly. At last he arises, feeling better for hav- ing so constructively entertained himself. If I may take a moment, let me insert a word from the wise. Never attempt pre- maturely to arouse the entertainer from his diversion, or he will become full of he and passion, and he may flip the prover- bial lid. Many a talented soul might take up digital manipulation ( sometimes known as thumb twiddling). Since there are many variations of the original pattern of thumb over thumb and since many intricacies may be introduced by adding more fin- gers, the entertainer may spend many en- joyable hours at such an interesting art. This is, however, not just an idle pas- time, for in more than one instance it has blossomed into full time employment. One dear friend of mine developed such an acute sense of rhythm at digital manipu- lation that he won a scholarship to one of the nation’s leading musical conserva- tories. Self-entertainment may manifest itself in this form: the entertainer may engage in and carry on a lengthy conversation with possibly the most astute admirer he has, which is himself. Always fully un- derstanding what he has to say, and al- ways having a ready reply, this conver- sation soon assumes amazing proportions. From such a dialogue one may readily learn many things, thus further increas- ing the entertainer’s opinion of the one with whom he has been conversing. May I humbly suggest that you do not entertain yourself excessively in such a manner, for not all lunatics are happy, and happiness is a desired end in most entertainment. The Missile page fifty Poems by Bill Scott How Do Tkey Know? When I was very small, I loved the birds; And I do still. I find in those gay minstrels A source of deep, abiding joy. To me Each bit of song is food for tranquil thought. When just a tiny tot, I used to like To talk of my friends to older, wiser people. Who smiled when one so little tried to speak. Onee an aunt, who thought to stump me, asked: “How do the birds know how to find their way home When snow has covered their nesting place all winter?” The smile on her face gave way to an open-mouthed stare When I said with not a pause, “God shows them how.” Much was made of this statement; I never knew why. To me it is an axiom needing no proof By other than my faith. My early life Convinced me that God does not give birds some organ With which to find their way. He rather shows Each little one the tree that bears his nest. The one from which he made the faltering flight When first his wing to him gave faith to fly. I hope ril ever believe God shows them how. The Making of a Man When does a boy become a man? What is the age .sublime? At twelve, eighteen, or twenty-one Or graduation time? It takes more than a passing day For the making of a man; It is a very intricate growth That many years may span. When first a little one goes to school He’s nearer to his goal. The years develop the talents that clear The way to his future role. When first he ignores a chance to cheat He’s learning to carry his pack; When first he gives away his ring; The first time he gets it back. When first he keeps his wits about him In midst of fright and strife; That day he takes the one he loves In partnership for life. A process of many changes made. Following one by one. It’s just a thing that keeps on growing Until life’s day is done. The Missile page fifty-one A Ckristmas Story by Maby Skipwith Richards The good old Christmas saint was great- ly troubled. He had made use of his magic power to make himself invisible in order to pay a pre-Christmas visit to those parts of the globe to which his arrival on Christmas Eve night is such a gala occa- sion. His trip this season was to check the deserving and the undeserving in his little black book, to find out what toys and adornments were in highest favor, and to feel the atmosphere of the Yuletide. The reason for the distress in the heart of the usually jolly Saint Nicholas was the selfishness he sensed in the hearts of the people and the commercialism that had penetrated into the season of love, peace, and goodwill. The people seemed tense and under strain. Mrs. Brown was in a state because she didn’t know the price Mrs. White expected to pay for her present, and it was always so embarrass- ing if one gave much more or less than she received. The children wanted every- thing under the sun, and not one of them thought of doing anything for another’s happiness. There was plenty of the hustle and bus- tle of preparation, but there was no real joy in it. The stores were noisy and crowd- ed, with the din of Christmas music am- plified over the noise of the shoppers. The tunes followed one another with such sameness of interpretation that one could scarcely tell where “Frosty, the Snowman” ended and “Silent Night” began. With a heavy heart, the good saint started north, wondering how he could help the people of the earth to understand the true meaning of Christmas. As he passed over the outskirts of the capital city of a great nation, where the crowds were larger, more bustling and more hur- ried than ever, he looked down and saw, just outside the metropolis, a quiet mon- astery. In the arched portico a solitary friar, in the brown habit of the Francis- can Order, walked in quiet meditation in the dusk. The man’s serenity made Saint Nicholas feel the need of a visit with the good monk, so the Christmas saint joined the Franciscan friar in his twilight stroll. “Perhaps you can help me. Friar,” said Santa. “I am greatly disturbed about the people I have seen. They are planning to celebrate Christmas, but I am certain that their plans are not right. They seem to have lost the true spirit of the season.” “Many centuries ago, ” the friar replied, “in 1223, to be exact, our good patron. Saint Francis of Assisi, was troubled with the same fears about the people of his Italian village, Creccio. Their Christmas celebrations were noisy and worldly. There was much singing, but the songs were not holy songs.” “I have heard many stories of the kind- ness and humility of the founder of your order,” murmured Saint Nicholas. “How did he help his people find the true joy of Christmas? ” “He and his friars built a crude crib in the courtyard of their tiny monastery. The Missile page fifty-two They fashioned an ox and ass of some materials they had at hand; then they placed a blue cloak over the shoulders of a peasant woman. They draped a scarf about her head, and asked her to kneel by the crib, in which they laid a bambino. Then the villagers were invited to come and worship at the scene of Bethlehem.” “Did the people respond?” asked Santa. “‘Yes, they came and sang the joyful songs of the coming of the Christ Child. They loved the little celebration, and re- turned the next year, and the next.” Saint Nicholas thanked the friar for his story and continued on his journey to the land of the midnight sun. Once home, Santa turned his shops into beehives of activity. Millions of tiny fig- ures were fashioned of clay, porcelain and cardboard. Little stables and mangers were built. Paint was skillfully applied, and, finally, complete little sets were as- sembled and boxed, ready for trips on Christmas Eve. On Christmas morning each little child found, with his other gifts, a little surprise box under his tree. How eagerly his tiny fingers opened the packages and set up the miniature figures! The children loved them, just as the people of Greccio had loved the creche Saint Francis had ar- ranged for them. Saint Nicho las returned on Christmas night to see how his gifts had been re- ceived. He blessed the good friar and his patron. Saint Francis, when he saw, in many homes, parents telling their little ones the wonderful story of the Christ- mas as they sat quietly before the creche. Tke Expl orer by Ronald Simon See the fiery flare of rockets Heading for Fluto, Moon, or Mars. I have been there long before you, I, the explorer of the stars. See the airplanes silvery wings As they fly to faraway lands. I have been there long before you. My name is carved in Egypt’s sands. See the submarine descending Through the ocean ever lower. I have been there long before you, I have walked the oceans floor. Go up, go down, go East or West 1 have been there to mar your joy. And still increase your frantic zeal To see one place, before Kilroy. The Missile page fifty-three Tke Essayist by Ann Wagner There is, so they say, some genius in all of us. However, when there is a class for which you must write an essay at one time or another, this genius seems to es- cape you. You hope and pray that the essay will not have to be written, and as you find your hopes answered for the mo- ment, your numbness leaves you. Since all good things must come to an end, the dreaded sentence finally arrives. The essay must be in by Friday. How- ever, there’s plenty of time, and a subject will pop into your head any day. There’s no hurry at all, so the days roll by, care- free and untroubled. Then, all of a sudden it’s Thursday night, and as you sit down to do your home-work, you remember your essay for the next day. The numbness returns, and you sit there contemplating the situation. After spending two hours feeling sorry for yourself, you decide to buckle down to work. First you must get all of your needed supplies together: a stack of paper, a dozen pencils, a pen, and some ink. At last, ready for work, you start to sit down, but you’ve forgotten something, so up you jump. Half an hour later you return from the kitchen well supplied with sandwiches, milk, cookies, and fruit. After arranging all this on the table, you finally start to write, and between cookies you finally get a title. The stack of paper on the floor grows, the pencils break, and the food sup- ply is completely exhausted. So goes the night. After many tries, however, you seem to accomplish a rough copy of an essay. Now it is time to rest. It is now early morning, and your sixth ink copy is nearing completion. Oops! Well, you’ll make it next time. So you begin again. At long last the essay is ly- ing on the table and the essayist is ready for bed. The morning dawns bright and beau- tiful, for you have your essay. The walk to school seems more beautiful than you have ever seen it, and the school build- ing appears to be a royal palace of learn- ing, filled with jewels of knowledge. The usually dreaded class is antici- pated with pleasure, and as you walk into class you feel an unexplainable pleasure. After class, as you walk out of the door, a feeling of peace and contentment en- gulfs you, and you’re sitting on top of the world. Then, as you walk home from school, the good feeling slips away, and the old numbness returns, for there is another es- say due next Friday. The Missile page fifty-four Tkouglit and Fancy hij Ann Wagner 1 Tkouglits On Leaving PetersLurg HigL Sell ool Since first I softly knocked on learnings door. My mind, has journeyed far from childish things. No more think I of trivial thoughts of yore. And graduation sadder thoughts now brings. My high school years have quickly flown away. And I am left with memories of gold. As swiftly approaches my graduation day. My heart is filled with grief and joy untold. Soon I shall leave these hallowed halls to roam This earth where peace and joy are hard to find. Then weary Til return at last to home Recalling days that are so far behind. Although at times they brought me grief and strife, III find they were the best years of my life. II Morning The fleecy clouds go rolling by Under a bright blue morning sky. The brilliant sun appears in view To rob the flowers of their dew. And morning life begins anew. The playful breeze awakes the trees. And yawning flowers attract the bees. The morning mist moves softly on. Its silent sleep aroused by dawn. The crickets stop their nocturnal song. And the sleepy brooklet flows along. What peace serene when naught goes wrong. When Nature goes her secret way To start again the perfect day. AJiuprtt0mpnt0 ...and you can get it! Telephone work is interesting — and you don’t need experi- ence to get a good job after graduation! That’s one reason why so many girls head for the tele- phone company when they finish school. They know they’ll earn good money from the start, even while they’re trained, and get raises regularly. Your high school counselor can tell you more about the many different telephone j obs — or come in and see us when you finish school! The Chesapeake Potomac Telephone Company of Virginia 1830 1953 SanJin4 I| ' ®arnn Snllegf A standard liberal arts college for men with a national reputa- tion for the success of its gradu- ates. A member institution of the Southern Association of Colleges and Secondary Schools, of the Association of American Col- leges, and of the Southern Uni- versity Conference. On the ap- proved list of the Association of American Universities. Confers the degrees of Bache- lor of Arts and Bachelor of Science and provides carefully arranged pre-professional courses leading to medicine, law, engi- neering, and the ministry. Further information may be secured from DEAN WILLIAM ALEXANDER MABRY Ashland, Virginia IP IE W AC OIIIL COIRPOIRATIO DRUe COMPANY c irs i fi c tscf jD ox cPiatmac “Serving Southside Virginia For Over 90 Years” 130 SOUTH AVENUE PHONE 145 PETERSBURG’S PRESCRIPTION PHARMACY The most important thing in this store is something you never see. What is it? It’s your pharmacist’s professional knowledge and technical skill. It takes years of study in college and then he must pass the state board of examiners. He must have a knowledge of many sciences. Get better acquainted with us. Trade with us. We can be relied upon in all circumstances. SoutkiuU VeiDlDG KHII1( CO., Inc. Automatic Phonographs, Scales and Amusements Phonographs rented for private parties SLIGHTLY USED RECORDS - 25c each 308 N. Sycamore St. Phone 349 and 355 Petersburg, Virginia Walter J. Parrish CORPORATION ‘The Store of Nationally Preferred Paints” Phone 5990 13 South Sycamore Street DRINK riADl.MAIIC «■«. g. I. AT. Off. IN BOTTLES Petersburg Coca-Cola Bottling Works, Inc. Southside Virginians Most Complete Department Store 132 N. SYCAMORE ST. PHONE 3200 The Progress-Index , . . joins a proud community in wishing the students much success in their scholastic life and in their careers. We are proud to publish the “School Weekly News” for the students of P. H. S. Watch for it in THE PROGRESS-INDEX Southside Virginia’s Daily ISestvpaper HEARTY GOOD WISHES FOR SUCCESS! FROM 1fRSE[UirwrA¥IH ! “THE BANK WITH THE CHIME CLOCK” Member Federal Deposit Insurance Corp. THE HARLOW-HARDY CO., INC. Dealers in Furniture ‘‘ Everything for the Home’’ 17-19 W. Washington Street Phone 919 The OAK Sells Everything ’ 400 North Sycamore Street PHONE 2587 long way to fall before it gets down to the 1 i Your Electric Service is on the job 24 hours a day— day and night — making your daily living lots easier, healthier and more enjoyable; VIRGINIA ELECTRIC AND POWER COMPANY Our Policy . . . ... is to ofiFer the advertiser the most appropriate type display in com- plete harmony with the character of his business ... to produce a high quality printed piece, at a reasonable cost— ON TIME. Plummer Printing Company Incorporated “Printers of The Missile” 122 W. Tabb Street Phone 106 Radio Station W S S V 1340 ON YOUR DIAL Intufraitg of Strljmnnii Richmond College, Raymond B. Pinchbeck, Ph.D., Dean Westhampton College, Marguerite Roberts, Ph.D., Dean The T. C. Williams School of Law, William T. Muse, S.J.D., Dean Craduate School, B. C. Holtzclaw, Ph.D., Dean School of Business Administration, F. Byers Miller, Ph.D., Dean Summer School, Edward F. Overton, Ph.D., Dean Summer Session opens June 15; Winter Session September 14, 1953 George M. Modlin, President MARK E. HOLT Optometrist and Jeweler Petersburg, Virginia One of Petersburg’s Optometrists Since 1915 FLOWERS SCATTER SUNSHINE- Downtown Office— 32 E. Washington Street Hours: 3 to 9 p. m. Flowerphone 11 T. S. BECKWITH CO., Inc. 125 North Sycamore Street Stationers to Petersburg High School Students Since 1870 THE GLOBE DEPARTMENT STORE, Inc. EXCLUSIVE READY-TO-WEAR Curb Service . . . . RAINBOW DRIVE-IN Fried Chicken — Italian Spaghetti Homemade Ice Cream — Custard — Piazzi Pie BREAKFAST - LUNCH - DINNER PHONE 4091-M 3631 Boulevard Colonial Heights, Va. Petersburg High School 1953 Class Rings Manufactured by HERFF JONES COMPANY Furnished through Mark E. Holt, Jeweler Virginia Representative JAMES L. DECK 300 East Main Street Richmond 19, Virginia Compliments of POOLE’S ELLERSLIE DAIRY, Inc. “Your Choice for over Quarter Century ' PHONE 1868 413 PORTERVILLE STREET ENTs ' Furniture (Company INCORPORATED “Depend ARLE Furniture Since 1897” PHONE 412 Petersburg Virginia GET THE BEST, GET ICE CREAM SMITH’S Cigar Store STATIONERY AND PHOTOGRAPHIC SUPPLIES- Open Evenings Till 9 P. M. 15 North Sycamore Street Petersburg, Virginia CITIZEN’S NATIONAL BANK 2% Interest Paid on Savings Accounts up to $2500 iy 2 % Interest Paid on Savings Accounts from $2500 to $10,000 For the best in Prescriptions and Drugs . . . ROSE’S Rexall Drugs Telephone 39 PROMPT DELIVERY Sycamore and Washington Sts, Petersburg, Va. Compliments of Swift Creek Farms Restaurant and Motor Court COLONIAL HEIGHTS, VA. Ruth and Paul Klinger — oimers “Quality made us Famous” H A R R I S . B R E N A M AN Incorporated ATHLETIC SUPPLIES • SPORTING GOODS 2-4797 - DIAL - 2-4796 717 East Grace Street Richmond 19, Virginia CONGRATULATIONS and BEST WISHES to THE CLASS OF 1953 BROWN ir WILLIAMSON TOBACCO CORF. ASTER CHEVROLET SALES, Inc. yCHEVROLET Chevrolet — Cadillac SYCAMORE LUNCHEONETTE “Home of Southern Fried Chicken” PHONE 6060-J Mr. F. R. Fowlkes, owner Compliments of C. F. Lauterbach’s Sons JEWELERS and SILVERSMITHS 122 N. Sycamore St. Phone 529 Petersburg, Virginia Phone 74 Lawrence Corporation Paints, Wall Paper and Glass No. 9 North Sycamore Street Petersburg, Virginia Parks School of Dance Arts All Types of Dancing for All Ages Baton Twirling 141 N. Sycamore St. Phone 2104 Compliments of Fine Arts School of Petersburg Nash Williams Nash Sales and Service Phone 3815 257-263 E. Bank St. Petersburg, Virginia “You’ll Be Ahead With Nash” MOLLOCK’S “Better Men’s Wear” PHONE 825 139 N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. Powell-Cole Stationery Co., Inc. Engraving Wedding Invitations and Announcements Visiting Cards Books and Stationery 141 NORTH SYCAMORE ST. Phone 779-W Petersburg, Va. AUTO SERVICE FOR ALL MAKES Petersburg Motor Co. Since 1924 Metcalf’s Esso Station WALNUT HILL Phone 3125 or 9022-W Gray’s Pharmacy (Downtown Prices with Neighborhood Service) PHONE 3008 WE DELIVER L. W. T, Bulifant, Inc. Insurance of All Types INSURANCE CENTER 38 Franklin St. Medical Arts Bldg. FLOWER MART T elegraph Service 27 S. Sycamore Street Phone 1193 PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA BLUMENTH AL’ S Soda Cigars — Cigarettes NEWSPAPERS AND MAGAZINES Novelties Phone 961 lOlVa N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. PIANOS — New and Used CONN and BUESCHER BAND INSTRUMENTS Bristow’s Music Store 14 Franklin Street Smart Mens Wear PHONE 808 107 N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. Compliments of Sylvia Hat Shop The Monument Mobilgas Station Henry Bhigstock, Prop. S. Sycamore St. and Crater Road Phone 9100 and 3920 Cars called for and delivered DISHMAN’S 401 Boulevard COLONIAL HEIGHTS, VA. Standard-James Shoe Company “For Better Shoes” 124 NORTH SYCAMORE STREET Winfield Aldridge Insurance Agency Telephone 2639 Complete Insurance Sendee 25 Wythe Street Petersburg, Va. SEALTEST ICE CREAM DULANY FROZEN FOODS Shorty’s Home Delivery Phone 5784 Phone 5784 The FASHION Ladies’ Wearing Apparel Coats, Suits, Dresses, Sweaters, Skirts, Millinery, Hosiery, Lingerie Phone I194-J 312 N. Sycamore St. PETERSBURG, VA. Hess- Jeweler “The Best for Less” WATCHES AND DIAMONDS 208 N. Sycamore Street Phone 541 Petersburg, Va. BEN HILL, Florist INCORPORATED A P Bakery FLOWERS AND GIFTS 12 North Union Street W. W. PRITCHETT. Prop. Near Comer of Washington Street 35 South Sycamore Street Phone 5500 Petersburg, Va. Prince Robinson Compliments of THE BANK OF COLONIAL HEIGHTS MODEL LAUNDRY and Colonial Heights, Va. DRY CLEANING THE COMMUNITY BANK 123 Pickwick Avenue Member Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation Young-Harrison Co. CLOTHIERS and FURNISHERS 22 North Sycamore St. RCA - VICTOR - ZENITH TELEVISION AND RADIOS Carr’s Radio Shop Petersburg’s Pioneer Dealer Electrical Appliances Sales and Services 31 S. Sycamore Street Stevens Maclin The Record Shop 31 West Washington Street Largest Stock of Records in Southside Virginia Butterworth’s, Inc. Quality Furniture 415 Boulevard TELLEPHONE 1936 Colonial Heights Virginia Sp fO ' S “The Store of Fashion” CENTRAL PRINTING CO. “We Print Everything But Stamps and Money” PHONE 108 404 N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. “Insure in Sure Insurance” PHONE 123 Kirk’s Super Market G, C. Wilson Company Choice and Prime INCORPORATED STEER BEEF REAL ESTATE - INSURANCE 107 West Tabb Street Cor. Wythe and Jefferson Petersburg Virginia FURNITURE of DISTINCTION Hotpoint and Piulco Appliances Custom Kitchens Sales and Service LOVE-HUDGINS, INC. Tri-Motor Sales Co. 5-7 South Sycamore St. 113-119 W. Tabb St. Petersburg, Va. PHONE 291 Specialized Service on Compliments Auto Radios and TV’s Northrop’s Radiotelephone Service Co. Sporting Goods “Pickup and Delivery” 413 Wythe St. Petersburg, Va. NORFOLK, VIRGINIA Phone 339 — Day or Night S. L. West H. H. Williamson Blue Ribbon Super Market Compliments of G. M. and J. W. KVASNICKA Props. Leonard’s Hardware 26 Halifax St. Phone 3105 PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA Feazel and Swearingen, Inc. Compliments of REALTORS Builder’s Supply Co. 104 Pickwick Ave. Colonial Heights, Va. of Petersburg, Inc. Office Phone 7050 “Everything to Build With” The Newest in The Newest in Sportswear Haberdashery Compliments of Sollod’s Clothing Shop “Solid Built Clothes” FOR MEN AND BOYS Phone 728 Special Attention to Boys and Students 221 N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. NOLDE BREAD PETERSBURG’S NEWEST INDUSTRY Dodge — Plymouth — Dodge Trucks J. C. Penney Company Ted Curry Motors, Inc. incorporated SALES - Phone 368 - SERVICE 19-27 N. Union St. Petersburg, Va. where Southside Virginia Shops and Saves Powers’ News Store Magazines — Newspapers Candy — Cigars Phone 1485 242 N. Sycamore St. PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA Colonial Variety Store 5c — $5.00 Between Bank and Post Office 121 Pickwick Avenue COLONIAL HEIGHTS, VIRGINIA Compliments of 148 North Sycamore Street Auto - Fire - Life - Hospitalization Phone 1152 217 Union Trust Bldg. uiiLty Insure WISELY With the Wileys Master System Bakery PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA Phone 1857 Don Voshall’s Lieutenant Run Service 900 SOUTH SYCAMORE ST. PHONE 9267 TELEPHONE 4021 “The Old Reliable” Established 1887 Virginia Athletic Supply Company “Everything for the Sportsman” JOHN C. BOYLE Wythe at Sycamore Petersburg, Va. Petersburg Furniture Company, Inc. HOME FURNISHINGS “Your Credit Is Good” ‘ 100 N. Sycamore St. Phone 223 H. L. Blount, Bookkeeping Service, Incorporated 120-A E. Washington Street Petersburg, Virginia EAT TOM’S TOASTED PEANUTS Compliments of BLACKER’S Young Men’s Shop Young’s Department Store 127 Pickwick Avenue Phone 5741 COLONIAL HEIGHTS, VA. Compliments of SANDLER’S 113 N. SYCAMORE ST. C. F. SCOTT, Inc. Real Estate and Insurance 14 EAST TABB STREET The Rennicks Co., Inc. GENERAL CONTRACTORS 220-226 Madison Street PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA Telephone 1633 Clayton Oldsmohile, Inc. SALE - SERVICE Phone 4866 Dutch Garden R. S. TERRIE CO. Pit-Cooked Bar-B-Q INSURANGE 2046 S. Sycamore Street 9 W. Tabb Street Phone 120 PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA Petersburg, Virginia Wm. S. Haskins, Prop. John H. Cato, Jr. Wm. W. Cato Manager Asst. Manager Jordan Motors, Inc. Petersburg’s Most Distinctive Chrysler - Plymouth Dealers Furniture Store Fine Furniture — Pictures — Lamps 130-132-134-136 Bollingbrook St. Gifts — Draperies Phone 2600 Petersburg, Va. Phone 303 and 233 LUBM AN’ S Ladies’ — Men’s — Boys’ Wear 231-233 North Sycamore St. Phone 2638 Petersburg, Va. Compliments of JOHNSON CO. FUEL OILS TraE Service Battery Service Sycamore Service Station C. C. BUCHANAN, Prop. 15-17-19 South Sycamore St. LuamcATioN Washing Phone 6056 HOWERTON WILLOUGHBY Preston Howerton Willie Willoughby Opticians and Jewelers Eyeglasses - Watches - Diamonds Jewelry 7 N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. Here is hoping that you pass. But don’t pass by our office. Say it with REAL - ESTATE The - JOHNSON - Boys 11 W. Tabb St. Phone 3035 Compliments R. L. Arnold Pen Co., Inc. REMMIE L. ARNOLD, Pres. Ask for Arnold Pens Compliments of CAVALIER BUICK, Inc. ® An.ow 109 N. Market St. Compliments of Virginia Lens Company PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA JORDAN BROS. Fine Diamonds Gorham - Alvin International Silver HAMILTON - ELGIN - BULOVA GRUEN WATCHES 123y2 N. Sycamore Street COTTON WHELAN ESSO (£s STATION Washington and Adams Streets Phones 581-9026 Petersburg, Va. We Patronize You . . . . . . We Appreciate Yours Compliments of Walnut Hill Food Service R. A. CONDREY, Prop. Petersburg, Va. Phone 6300 Bentz Paint Wall Paper Corporation BRUSHES - GLASS - OILS Acme Quality Paints and Varnishes Phone 435 23 W. Washington St. s Gulf Service OIL - LUBRICATION - ACCESSORIES TIRES - TUBES “Road Service” 1924 S. Sycamore St. Phone 9233-J Compliments of SQUARE DEAL FRUIT STORE KRESGE’S FIVE AND TEN CENT STORE 112 N. Sycamore St. J. R. GARLICK CERTIFIED WATCHMAKER All Work Guaranteed 22 N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. Compliments of Medical Arts Pharmacy Roper Building Supply Corporation MILLWORK - ALL KINDS “We Supply the Building” Phone 6900 Compliments of Franklin Street Barber Shop W. P. Hallaway T. E. Williams Lewis Sykes B. O. Stone Compliments of Capehart-Parker Pontiac Company Compliments of Parham’s Dance Insulation Co. 1 11 j Texaco Blown Rock Wool Insulation Service Metal Weatherstripping 1901 Sycamore St. 25 Wythe St. Phone 5566 PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA Gas — Oil — Wash Polish — Lub. Compliments of « Sanitary Barber Shop JOE PATRAM, Owner RCA General Electric T elevision Appliances Compliments of Southside Appliance Co. 15 E. Washington St. Phone 662 KITCHEN’S STUDIO Quality Portraits Fine Baby Pictures Commercial Photographs Specializing in Glamour Portraits Phone 2813 121-A N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Virginia Compliments of Dancy’s Barber Shop D. D. ADKINS, Inc. I Nationally Known Brands i of Shoes for 75 Years in Petersburg, Virginia i i I TUDOR’S, Incorporated 2 LOCATIONS 108 N. Sycamore St. — Phone 400 383 36 S. Sycamore St. — Phone 1435 FREE DELIVERY SERVICE Petersburg, Colonial Heights Ettrick Whelan Brigstock’s Service Center C. R. (Sam) Whelan, Prop. Tires - Tubes - Batteries 221 W. Washington St. Phone 3971 BLACKWELL SMITH DRUG COMPANY ' ‘ ' Prescription Specialists ’ Corner Washington and South Streets Telephone 575 Petersburg, — Virginia GOOD GAS SERVICE MAKES WARM FRIENDS CONGRATULATIONS, GRADUATES! Although now, you are graduates, you can do a great service for the rest of us, if you never cease to be students — looking for opportunities and ways to cherish the American system of free enterprise and to im- prove the American way of life. You can be thankful for free schools in a country where you are free to worship and work and think and talk as you please. This is your heritage from the people who built America. THE FUTURE is pretty largely in your hands — you must be vigilant and active to combat the evils of socialism, government domination of private industry, and all the “isms” that destroy de mocracy. We de- pend upon you to do a good job. GOOD LUCK! The Petersburg and Hopewell Gas Company Francis K. Godwin, President GOOD GAS SERVICE MAKES WARM FRIENDS iX.KW, Ifl?- ■■ ' M W t ) i .1 if 4 k I ' 1 I t p ' ' i; ■ir ■t ' ' ■ !, ,;: ' ■■ fl ft ■i I