Petersburg High School - Missile Yearbook (Petersburg, VA)

Text from Pages 1 - 162 of the 1954 volume:

5 r Lr r I 1 I PETERSBURG PUBLIC LIB 3001 00 063 646 5 Res Rm Petersburg High 050 School. M691 The Missile. (1954) c. 1 Petersburg Public Library Petersburg, VA 23803-4257 1 1 , k. 5 r : (� I Ke i a. c. ' I A S !•■ , 1 .,. ' ..I SONGS OF THE SOUTH )f r 1 ♦ k j u Jl ii 1 l JS : I i 1 V __ m ❖ IL m m t? Wt if! ) ¥ I ■ •S ' ; Petersburg High School We, the Senior Class of Nineteen Hundred and Fifty-Four, dedicate this issue to Mr. H. Augustus Miller, Jr. in appreciation of his untiring service to the students and to The Missile of Petersburg High School. THE MISSILE PETERSBURG HIGH SCHOOL VOL. XXXXII — No. 1 Petersburg, Virginia M A Y - 1 9 5 4 TABLE OF SONGS OF THE SOUTH” Prologue . Nell Roper 3 Folk B.vllads MODERN BALLADS .... Eddie Blacker 5 Casey Jones .... Betty Harvey 5 Chain Gang Ballads Alfred Knight 8 Mountain Ballads Randolph Hinkle 9 The Cowboy’s Dream Alfred Knight 10 The Old Chisholm Trail Nancii Gailey 11 The Wreck of Old 97 Buzz Notvlin 11 TRADITIONAL BALLADS , Eddie Blacker 13 Young Beichan Barbara Maufield 13 The Wife of Usher’s Well Randolph Hinkle 14 Barbara Allen Margaret Hunter 15 Negro Spiriitjals Work Songs ..... Ira Lee Andrews 17 Languid Songs Betty Harvey 18 Immortality of Negro Spirituals Carol Lavenstein 19 Songs of the Civil War Dixie . Marlene Braver 21 l.orena . Buzz Nowlin 24 Virginian Marseillaise Nancy Gailet 25 Maryland, Mv Maryland Judith Schultz 26 The Bonnie Blue Flag Margaret Hunter 27 Dixieland Jazz Origin of Jazz .... . Sherry Rose 29 Birth of the Blues Russell Earh 31 Masters of Jazz .... . Maynard Moore 32 The Best of Dixieland . Sherry Rose 33 LITERARY SECTION Making It The Hard Way . Nell Roper 37 Surprise Attack .... Bee Roberson 39 TV OR Not TV . David McCants 43 One Against the Sea Carol Lavenstein 45 On the Trail of the Birds Margaret Hunter 47 The Revelation .... Russell Early 49 Meditations to St. Cecelia . John Willis 53 America, Land of Dreams . Ira Andrews 55 To Be A Twin Pret Roper 59 Leisure Time . Nanct Wamsh 61 Why Salesgirls Get Grey Beverley Rosenbaum 63 M I S S I L Editorial Staff: Editor-in-Chief, Nell Roper; Associate Edi- tors, Ira Lee Andrews, Marlene Beverley Braver, Janies Rus- sell Early, Nancy Hathaway Galley, Betty Ber ’l Harvey, Randolph Bentley Hinkle, Margaret Lupton Hunter, Alfred Henderson Knight, Garol Woemer Lavenstein, Barbara Ann Mayfield, Maynard Ernest Moore, Percy Gonway Nowlin, Sherry Bryan Rose, Judith Schultz. Business Staff; Business Manager, Ann Frances Lawrence; Assistants, Edwin Stanley Blacker, Jane Louise Cone, Judith Hope Ford, Nancy Hathawa} ' Gailey, Dorothy Leonard Gill, Elizabeth Madison Hargrave, Lillian Irving Lewis, Maynard Ernest Moore, Bobbie Fernanzia Peroe, Ann Claiborne Pope, William Graham Roberson, Kay Whitehurst Scoggin, Bar- bara Dawn Spaight, Louise Scott Steele, Joan Nlaureene Wright. CONTENTS POE M S Trees Margaret Hunter 7 The Atom I Richard Cummins 12 H W alter Grutchfield 12 Love at First Sight . . . . Betty Stanton 19 Soaring High . LaVerne Smith 23 Our Choice Ann Lawrence 24 N ight Jane Cone 26 A Storm Ann Lawrence 30 For Freedom’s Noble Cause Richard Cummins 32 Sweet Youth . Nell Roper 34 I. A Memory H. My First Big Date In Memoriam .... Mary Woodrum Jones, ’53 38 Escape George Kvasnicka 41 I. Escape from the City II. The Majesty of the Skv Dedication to a Teacher . Joe Watson 42 The Breeze Sidneii Sutherland 42 Conquest Ann Wheeler 46 On My Mind Joanne Bortz 46 Rain . Lou Lesley 48 Victory Dabney Short 48 Via Dolorosa I. Release From Fear Alfred Knight 51 H. Nocturna Pericula W illiam Grossman n 51 Call to Play Dorothy Anderson 52 This Modern Music . . . . Walter Grutchfield 52 Nature’s Pace Pret Roper 54 Where Do You Wander? . Ann Wheeler 54 Peace by the Sea . Henry McGill 58 The Season Beverley Rosenbaum 58 My Kind of Life . Oliver Rudy 60 Treasure Hunt Skippy Richards 60 The Ageless Vendor . . . . Sidney Suthehrland 62 Good-Bye . Oliver Rudy 62 o e c A D E R T I S E M E N T S E STAFF Circulation Staff: Circtdation Manager, Nancy Leigh Mal- lory; Assistants, Virginia Meade Mann, John Wesley Rack- ley, Margaret Louise Hesse. Art Staff: Art Editor, Emily Reynolds Greever; Artists, William Grossmann, John Fairbanks Haines, James Ogburn Hart, Douglas Wayne James, Beverley May Jones, Adeline Anne Lange, William Branch Storey. Photographic Staff; Editor, Janet Diane Congdon; Assist- ants, Jean Ellen Kitchen, Claudette Alene Spencer, Doug- las Wayne James; Staff Photographer, Mastin Leroy Kitchen. Faculty Advisers: Editorial, Mr. Martin F. Andrews (Ad- viser), Mr. H. Augustus Miller, Jr. ( Honorarc’ Adviser); Business, Mr. James W. Sutherland; Art, Miss Iar ' Bailey, Mrs. Shirley Willcox; Circulation, Mr. A. Lloyd; Pho- tography, Mr. E. B. Congdon. Issued Annually in May by the Stiidents of Petersburg High School, Petersburg, Va. Subscription Hates: $1.00 a copy; 75c advance subscription. Upward By Skippy Richards The young birds perched upon a bough For their first solo flight Some shy, some bold, some jet-propelled. Some graceful, sure, and light. Some buds upon another bough Looked up into the sun. And burst in full and fragrant bloo7n Before the day was done. The eager and ambitious youths. The class of fifty-four. With just one tender, backward glance. Pass through the open door. cJ-fiqn cnooL PHS 1954 Oliver Duane Kiidy Xancy Hathaway Gailey Edwin Stanley Blacker Sue Bollinf Moody Norman Wonii Vera Mae Trout Marlene Beverley Braver David Arnold McCants Joan Marie Beach Thomas Wood Jordan Katherine Louise Lesley Barr ' Walter Long Sidney Everette S itherland, 111 Shirley Mae Tyner William Grosstnann. Jr. Barbara Ann Richardson Wilber Leon Staples Bettie Jean Tucker Susie Mack Laftoon William Curtis Adkins Shirley Ann Holland James Alton Garlick Martha Lee Moody Marvin Fulton Hogue David Bruce Young Joanne Elinor Bortz Gilbert Teny Collett Patricia Annette Kvasnicka Randolph Bentley Hinkle Teresa Clyde Barreto I I l ()l)ert Eugene Massey ell Binford Roper Edward Gill Wehb, Jr. Virjjiiiia Prrtlow Roper Arliek Liinvood Rrockwell, Jr. Mar ' Jean Tench Sylvia Anne Osniiindson Robert Louis Duncan, Jr, Elizabeth Pastoriiis Rniner Harvey Ronald Kirkland Jo Anne Halloway Elbert Lloyd Pugli, Jr. Albert Hugh Cheely I aye Marie Davis Jessie Abase Palmore lb)land Lee Bowles Sylvia Anne Gardner James Leslie Talbott Patricia Ann Patrajn Daniel Magee Birdsong Beverly Ann McDowell Richard Edward Bowman Gatherine Francis Pa.xton Nelson Eugene Lo e John Wesby Rackley, HI Nancy Leigh Malloiy Donald Earl Moore Ann Frances Lawrence Howard Rucker Slierman Anne Christian Curtice PHS 1954 Jan BIanken l ip Elizalietli Willis Stanton James Lynn Perrow O ' Giacly Dolores Landon Lewis Pncker Hainse ’ Margaret Lupton Hunter Martha Lee Williams Alvin Eure Poole, Jr. Janet Marie Petty Charles Wesley Wray Shell y Jean Johnson Henton Bryant Mitchell Irving Lawrence Sanford, Jr. Tharon Sue Griffith Sherry Bryan Hose Etta Irene Walker Harvey Jones Baxter Elizabeth Lowr ’ Bowen Joyce Ann Robertson Robert Claiborne Cohi) LaVerna Anne Smith George Carroll Wilkinson, Jr. Millie Ruth Maglovsky Joseph Lyle Watson George Milton Kvasnicka. Jr. Nancy Claire Wamsley John Theophilus Holloway, Jr. Betty Lu Estes William Linwood Pittman Betty Ann Ashley 1954 PHS Kenneth Alvin Blick Shirley Ann C irry James Franklin Hatch Helen Lunette Harlow Harry Lee Welrster Rose Cornelia Jackson Elsie Louise Brownlee Robert Tracy Corter Betty Lou Addison Robert Horton Hatchett Dorothy Dale Anderson Bernard Lewis Saxon Paul McKinley Grumpier, Jr. Phyllis Virjiinia Miles Gerald Emmett Hamson Virginia Margaret Slade Dee Laverne Beville Patricia Dian Cummings Shelby Lee Butler Alfred Henderson Knight, HI Phyllis Anne Tatum Lester David Pecht, Jr. Betty Ann Dennis William Marshall Hughes Maynard Campbell Sandford Patricia Allyue Vaiden Barry Melvin Spero Jean Esther Williams Dabney Ex pes Short, Jr. Claudette Alcne Spencer PHS 1954 Bert Clarke Currin Shirley Anne Traylor Donald Leigh Butler Jane Louise Cone Jolin Herbert Dobriek Charlotte Roberta Slate Beverly Cornia Gibbs Junius LaVan Price, Jr. Dolores Mae Puckett John Janies Willis Mar ' Ann West Henry Peabody McGill. Jr. Barrett Randall Bryant Barbara Dawn Spaigbt Richard Lynn Cummins Simone Klinger Raymond Earl Doss Mildred p]stelle Stell Alta Aim Wheeler Gregory Malcolm Underwood Nancy Campbell Gill Lewis Franklin Jolly Joyce Eileen Jones William Delma Hobeck Mary Skipwith Richards Morris Turner Horne, Jr. Doris Elizabeth Stark Walter Rollins Grutehfield I 1954 PHS Donald Curtis Tipton Beverley Rosenbaum Landon Carter Smith Phyllis Mary Whitmore Mastin Leroy Kitchen Delores Lue Lyons Ruth Sue Browder Robert Charles Wa ' .ker Shirley Ann Brooks George Mason Dempsey Joyce Anita Gates Nancy Ann Fowler Bobby Lee Haraway Mary Frances McGee Alfred Franklin Wynn Josephine Marie Vaimhan William Jacob Engles Joyce Ethellynn Bailey Doris Mae McGilvary David Hydrick Bass Charlotte Virginia Davis Winston Epps Leath Mildred Louise Thomas Gerald Barrett Nobles Domenico Novelli Jennie Lou Bell William Douglas Temple Jo Ann McMurtrey Biggest Boy Flirt Bobby ilaraway Craziest Boy Bobby Walker Craziest Girl everly Rosenbaum Best All Aroyiid Boy Billy Engles Best Looking Boy Donnie Tipton Brainiest Boy Walter Crutchfield Pms Mfg Best All-Around Gin Joyce Bailey Best Looking Girl .Shirley Brooks Brainiest Girl Frances Magee Best AIl ' Aroynci Boy Tucker Ramsey Best All-Around Girl Joanne Bortz Best Looking Boy Arlick Brockwell presents Best Looking Girl Nell Roper Brainiest Boy Brainiest Girl Bobby Duncan Elizabeth Bowen Best Boy Athlete Skitchy Rudy Presc its Best Girl Athlete Joan Beach Biggest Boy Fliit Terry Collett Craziest Boy Barry Spero Biggest Girl, Flirt Margaret Hunter Craziest Girl Pat Kvasnicka M issiLE Staff Editor-ill-chief - Business Manager CircuUiiion Manager . Art Editor Photographic Editor Eaeidty Af? c iso rs— Later ary . .. Art Betsiness Circulation Photograph Nell l oper Ann Lawrence Nancy Mallory Emily Greever Janet Congdon Mrs. Shirley Willcox Mr. M. F. Andrews . ... Miss Mary Bailey Mr. J. W. Sutherland Mr. A. W Lloyd .. Mr. E. B. Congdon First Row Ann Lawrence Nancy Mallory Nell Roper Janet Clongclon Emily Greever Second Row Percy Nowlin Barbara Mayfield Nanc ' Gailey Marlene Braver Margaret Hunter Third Row Alfred Knight Carol Lavenstein Norman W ' ong Jeannette Ford Betty Harvey Fourth Row Ira Lee Andrews Janet Garriss Maynard Moore Virginia Mann Jill Hesse Jean Kitchen Fifth Row Bill Grossmann Sherry Rose Bussell Early Judith Schultz Joan Wright Si.vt i Row Randolph I hnkle Jack Bach ley Bee Roberson Billy Storey Scottie Steele Pret Roper Kay Scoggin Seventh Row Douglas James John Haines Janies Harte Eddie Blacker Jane Cone Adeline Lange Katherine Sherman Eighth Row Bobby Peroe Barbara Spaight Irving Lewis Betsy Hargrave Dottie Gill Ann Pope Ninth Row Mr. Edmond Congdon Miss Mary Bailey .Mr. A. A ' . Lloyd Mr. J. W. Sutherland Miss Shirley Willco.x Mr. M. F. Andrews Faculty Principal Russell B. Gill Assistant Principal H. Augustus Miller, Jr. Secretaries Arline Burnett, Doris Curlin Librarian Gladys Spencer First Row H. Augustus Miller, Jr. Russell B. Gill Second Row Mary Perkins Katherine Warner Shirley Willco.x Helen Brooks Mary Holloway Helen Jarratt Ellen Moyer Third Row Hayden Gwaltney Gladys Spencer Janie Lee Reynolds Frances Morgan Frances Browning Frances Evans Georgia West Margueritte Jennings Fourth Row Laura Meredith Pauline Robertson Doris Gurlin Arline Burnett Gladys Wilkinson Mary Gilmore Helen Gover Fifth Row Burton F. Ale.xander Edwin Betts, Jr. O. F. Haynes William Finney James W. Sutherland Martin Andrews Sixth Row Edward Smoot Howard Lum D. Pinckney Powers Morris Murphy A. W. Lloyd James Micklem Edmond B. Gongdon Senior Committee Advisor Mr. H. A. Miller, Jr. First Row Sidney Sutherland Arlick Brockwell Second Row Tucker Ramsey Douglas Temple Beverh ' Rosenbaum Nell Roper Nancy Fowler lack Evans Mr. H. A. .Miller, Jr. Student Council President Vice-President . Secretary Parliamentarian Advisor Jack Evans . Arlick Brockwell . Carol Lavenstein ... Tucker Ramsey Miss Ellen Moyer S—Ieft to right, bottom to top Tucker Ramsey Jack Evans Arlick Brockwell Buddy Leasure Ben Levy Landon Smith Don Tubb Bobby LaneN ' Bobby Duncan Marvin Boswell Hamilton Evans Walter Smith C— right to left, bottom to top Carol Lavenstein Beverly Rosenbaum Jill Hesse Ir ing Lewis Joyce Bailey Judy M ' arner Randolph Hinkle Mary Steger Jack Rackley John G. Francis Ann Claiborne Pope Nancy Parker Miss Moyer Monitors President Tucker Ramsey Vice-President Ann Norris Secretary Lon Lesley Advisor Mr. J. W. Sutherland “A ” left to ri ht Norman Wong Joe Blankenship Jack Evans Randolpli Hinkle Bolrhy Corter Joan Wriglit Landon Sinitli Oliver Rudy Sidney Sutlierland Fred Swearingen Phyllis Tatum Nell Roper Margaret Hunter ' irginia Mann Arlick Brockwell Maynard Moore Mar in Boswell Lou Lesley ' Pucker Ramsey Ann Norris Susan Elliott Kay Scoggin Scottie Steele Irving Lewis Dottie Gill Joanne Bortz Fret Roper Betty Harvey Katherine Sherman Ann Lawrence Hope Bulay Betty Jane Carrel Nancy Collins Barbara Leete Arie Fenderson Terry Collett Behind Tucker Ramsey Mr. J. W. Sutherland The Band Director Student Director .... Majorettes Joyce Simmons Arline Riley Kay Dimnivant Pat Tudor Hope Bui ay Patsy McGowan Flutes and Piccolos Betsy Bruner Carole Ann Torrence Lois Ann Parrish Sharon Slate Clarinets Bernard Bortz Edward Gerry Janet Petty Elva Jane Wynne Bill Hartzman Myrtle Martin Mary Sue Holland Cazell Kirkland Joan Walker Dabney Short Marly n Sessums Barbara Phillipps Wayne Tucker James Britt French Horns Hennan Wilkins Joyce Simmons Robert Grossmann Trombones David Murdock Nancy Blankenship Edward Branch Major Sheffield Douglas Perkinson Drum Major Gerald Nobles Oboes Fred Clements Frank Jefferson Saxophones Joyce Jones Ernest Pannill Charlotte Bryant ira Lee Andrews Virginia Tench Trumpets and Cornets Walter Grutchfield Lee Litchfield Howard Redford Charles Poole Thomas Marek Claiborne Nemecek Joe Oxendine Bobby Riley Bill Clements Ronald Elder Claude Springfield Mr. Ralph Stronach Bobby Walker Baritones Sidney Sutherland Brooks Parham Conway Cheely Basses Tom Anderson Spencer Perkins Ralph Rowlett James Traylor Tijmpani Marshall Hughes Drums Charles Barnes James Seay James Tinney James Tench Glenn Browder Jerry Radclitfe James Pittman Bell Lyra Fred Clements Glee Club President - Arlick Brockwell Vice-President David Young Business ' Manager Beverly Bosenbaum Librarians Sylvia Osinundson, Edward Burton Advisor Miss Dorothy Wainwright First Row Fourth Row Seventh Row Miss M’ainw viglit Joanne Bortz Ed Webb I ' atsy W’iikiiison Jean Kitchen Marvin Boswell Edward Burton Prances Stone Fred Swearingen David Young Carolyn Pritchett Randolph Hinkle Arlick Brockwc ' ll Cora W ' illis William Storey S Kia Osinundson Martha W ' illiams Edwin Blacker Beverly Bosenbaum Dotty Gill David iMcCai-ts Second Row Ann Pope Bobby Colib Betsy Hargrave Ben Levy Dorothy Danner Itetty Dar.iel Fifth Row John Haines Barlrara Harrison Jean W ' illianis Eighth Row Itetsy Goodman Charlotte Slate Jim Adler Mary Ann M ost Beverly McDow’cll Harry Webster Joan Bareelles Barbara Leete Bobby M ' ebster Eileen Dorsk Marilyn Ende Donald Struiningcr Molly McDonald Irving Lewis Dan Moore Scotty Steel Katy Paxton Joe Blankenship Joan M’riglit Carol Lavenstein Bea Bobertson Third Row Betty Bickham Russel Earl ' Jo Jones Sixth Row Ninth Row Teresa Barreto Janet Congclon Pete WTight Simone Klinger Jane Cone Jack Evans Betty Stanton Claudette Spencer Pat Porter Jeanette Brantley Marlene Braxer Tucker Ramsey Maxine Davis Virginia Mann Howard Sherman Ann Wdieeler Nancy Cailey Bobby Hutto Joan Mdiite Betty Harvey Dax ' id Morin Batt ' Patram Pat Bonner Edw ' ard Dawson Peggy M ' ilhurne John W ' illis Dramatics Club President Beverly Rosenbaum Vice-President David McCants Secretary Phyllis Miles Treasurer Dolores Puckett Advisor Mr. Edwin M. Betts, Jr. First Row Simone Klinger Marilyn Endc Davici McCants Beverly Rosenbaum Phyllis Miles Dolores Puckett Linda Remeny Lola Faison Second Row Carol Lavenstein Jim Adler Jimmy Cluillender Beverly Gibbs Bobby Lee Donald Struminger Edwin M. Betts, Jr, BilR- Storey Edwin Blacker Sue Griffith Gharlotte Wall Joyce Simmons COCKADETTE StAFF Advisors Mrs. Shirley Willcox Miss Ellen Moyer Mr. Edmond Congdon First Row Sliern’ Rose Jolin Haines BeverR ' Rosenliauin Carol L avenstein Si(lne ' Sutlierland Fourth Row Cliarlotte Slate Shirley Tyner Claudette Spencer Marlene Braver Katherine Paxton Janet Garris Daxid McCants Third Roiv Peggy Trent Lois Parrish Kaye Kiglry Anne Gatling Joan Wright Jim Adler Fifth Row Nancy Gill Peggy Wilburn Jeanette Ford Bill Horton Eddie BlacTer Second Row Barbara Blankenship Joan Parcells Betty Sue James Norma Collins Betty Harvey Hugh Moore F. H. A. Club President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Reporter Chaplain Advisor Betty Lou Addison Emily Greever Pat Bonner Mary Doris Smith Joan Parcells Nancy Dobson Mrs. Helen Jarratt First Row Joan Parcells Pat Bonner Emily Greever Betty Lou Addison Nancy Dobson Mary Doris Smitli Second Row Mrs. Jarratt Betty Byrd Daniels Emily Fuller Peggy Brockwell Charlotte Slate Lola Faison Jo Bolling Jones Alease Palmore Arie Fenderson Tlurd Row Betty Beasley Nancy Hall Joyce Adams Joyce Bridgman Carolyn Seay Ethel Royal Dot Tinney Mildred Moore Ann Wheeler Beverly McDowell Foitiiii Row Jean King Bettie Jones Betsy Bonner Carolyn Moon Betty Lou Sandford Peggy Baker Betty Gray Polly Cizler Charlotte Lester Mildred Comer Claudette Spencer Fifth Row Pat Hughes Fima Mackey Barbara Jones Frances Laine Donna Pritchett Jo Ann Sellars Clara Chandler Shirley Beasley Shelby Browder Mary Ann West Sixth Row Faye Hall Shelby Adcock Leta Barker Barbara Short Kay Rigby Judy Jacobs Phyllis Miles Dolores Puckett Shirley Tyner Seventh Row Rose Addison Carolyn Hess Betty Laney Patsy Temple Shirley Talbott Members not in picture Barbara Blankenship Emily Cook Charlotte Davis Ann Evans Sadie Johnson Barbara Leete Fima Mackey Ida McCarter Shirley Price Rosalie Smith Peggy Trent Carolyn Woodson Commercial Club President Viee-P resident Seeretnry Treasurer Reporter Advisor Charlotte Slate Frances Stone Claudette Spencer Alease Palmore Betty Dennis M iss Mary Gilmore First Roic Alease Palmore Frances Stone Charlotte Slate Claudette Spencer Betty Dennis Second Row Betty Jane Carrel Nancy Dobson Beverly McDowell Jean Williams Susie Lafoon Shirley Tyner Betty Lou Addison Barbiua Warner Jo Bolling Jones Third Row Miss Gilmore Melda Maclnt re Johnnie Mae Goins Shelby Butler Etta Walker Peggy Brockwell Nancy Mallory Mary Ann West Charlotte Davis Dolores Puckett Le Cercle Franc ais President V ice-President Seer eta rij-Treas urer Advisor Clockwise— from bottom Nancy Gailey Marlene Braver Norman Wong Nell Roper Eddie Blacker Arline Riley Carol Lavenstein Lola Faison Dorothy Anderson Sherry Rose Carol Torrence Jeannette Ford Jimmy Challender Emily Greever Barbara Mayfield Evelyn Wyatt Kay Dimnivant Donald Struminger Elizabeth Bowen Center Mrs. Pauline Robertson Nancy Gailey Elizabeth Bowen Marlene Braver Mrs. Panline Robertson Square Circle President Vice-President Seer eta rij-T r ensure r Advisor — Ann Lawrence -- Lou Lesley Irving Lewis Mrs. Helen Brooks First Row Dt)ttie Gill living Lewis Mrs. Helen Brooks Lou Lesley Ann Lawrence Second Row Mollie McDonald Scotty Steel Betsy Hargrave Betsy Goodman Laura Yates Third Row Gerry Andrews Ann Pope Fourth Row Kay Clark Kay Scoggin Bennie Mollock Margaret Hunter Betty Lou Ramsey F if til Row Mary Grossmann Mar ' Wright Ph llis Tatum Patsy McGowan Dottie Coulter Kathryn Sherman Mary Bowman Goober Pep Club Fresiclent Vice-President S ecreta rij-T reasurer Advisor - Jill Hesse Nancy Fowler - -- Jean Tench Miss Ann VanLandinghain First Row Nancy Fowler Jill Hesse Jean Tench Second Row Miss VanLandinghain Betty Stanton Martha Williams Nancy Parker Virginia Mann Pret Roper Nell Roper Peggy Capehart Joanne Halloway Third Roic Betty Harvey Barbara Mayfield Elizabeth Bowen Fourth Row Evelyn Wyatt Carol Lavenstein Hope Bnlay Arline Riley Beverly Rosenbaum Barbara Richardson Joan Wright Susan Elliot O. G. Club Prcsidoif Joanne Bortz y ice-Frcsidcnt Pat Vaiclen Secrcfanj Nancy Harville Treasurer Joyce Gates Advisor Miss Katherine Warner Fir. ' it Row Pat aidfn Xant ' ' IlaixilK’ joaiinc B ' irtz j() c ' C U.atrs Second Row Joyce Jones Patty Patrani Sue Moody Betty Lon Cole Dolores Landon Kay Powell Miss Wdirner Third Row Pat Kvasnieka Betty BnliJant SyK ' ia Osnnindson Pat Burton Elsie Brownlee Joyce Bobertson Betty Bickhain Fa e Da ’is Bett ' Jane Carrel Projection Crew First Row {left to right) Albert Cheely Gregory Underwood Members not in picture Robert Badgett Jimmy Tench Ralpli Rowlett Billy Clements Gerald Nobles Betsy Bruner Joan Beach Second Row Frank Wynn Nancy Gill Nonnan Wong Third Rote Hugh Moore Mr. Lum Rodney Reames Fourth Row Sherry Rose Joe Watson Billy Hobeck Speech Club Presideni Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Advisor Ira Lee Andrews Russell Early . David McCants .... Norman Jacobson Mr. Edwin Betts, Jr. First Row Norman Jacobson Russell Early Ira Lee Andrews David McCants Fourth Row Allred Knight Arliek Brockwell Eileen Dorsk Jimmy Cliallender Second Row Nancy Gill Jolm Haines Buckh ' Leasnre Fifth Row Carol Lavenstein Barbara Mayfield Donald Struminger Third Row Marihn Ende Dabne ' Sliort Sixth Row Mr. Betts Bill Horton Robert Badgett Eddie Blacker Cockade Hi-Y President Arlick Brockwell Vice-President John Francis Secretary Randolph Hinkle Treasurer Dan Moore Advisor Mr. Martin Andrews First Row Second Row Third Row Dan Moore Joe Blankenship Alfred Knight Arlick Brockwell Tommy Hinkle Robert Badgett John Francis Gregory Underwood Man. ' in Boswell Randolph Hinkle Bobby Corter Jim Adler Sidney Sutherland Jack Evans Bobby Hutto Mr. Andrews Oliver Rudy Crater Hi-Y President Viee-P resident Secretary Treasurer Chaplain Advisor Jack Rackley Dabney Short ... Bill Grossmann Bill Hobeck Tom Anderson Mr. Da ’id Lowry Clockwise from Bottom Jack Rackle ' Dabney Sliort Bill Grossmann Bill Hobeck Tom Anderson Howard Sherman Hugh Moore Fred Swearingen Bart Roper David Crittenden Alfred Krause Henry McGill Walter Eley Bobby Massey William Roberson Spencer Perkins Billy Story John Haines K-Warner Tri-Hi-Y President Sylvia Osmundson Vice-President - Carole Ann Torrence Secretary Nancy Mallory Treasurer Lola Faison Chaplain Janet Congdon Advisor Miss Katherine Warner First Row Second Row Third Row Fourth Row Lola Faison Judy Ford Jane Cone Sonja Williams Sylvia Osmundson Annette Bailey Ann Wheeler Miss Warner Carole Ann Torrence Dottie Coulter Nancy Dobson Frances Stone Nancy Mallory Nancy Gailey Janet Congdon Jean Kitchen President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Cdiaplain Advisor T- Albright Tri-Hi- Y Pattie Patram - — Peggy Lou Wilburn Pat Kvasnicka Betty Lou Ramsey Faye Davis Miss Doris Ramsey From the left bottom to top Joyce Robertson Evelyn Wyatt Elsie Brownlee Margaret Hunter Pat Bonner Beverly McDowell Jeanette Ford Nancy Talbott Sally Kay Powell Pat Vaiden Jeanette McMullan Ann Ozmore Joan Walker Leilani Johnson Sue Moody Betty Lou Cole Dolores Landon Jeanne Tench Barbara Richardson Center of “A” left to right Faye Davis Pat Kvasnicka Pattie Patram Peggy Lou Wilburn Betty Lou Ramsey President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Advisor Pence Tri-Hi-Y Nell Roper Betty Stanton Dottie Gill Susan Elliot Mrs. W. M. Lewis First Row Nell Roper Second Row Betty Stanton Dottie Gill Third Row Susan Elliot Betty Lou Traylor Marlene Braver Skippy Richards Fourth Row Scotty Steele Jill Hesse Martha Lee W ' illianis Barbara Short F ifth Row Betsy Hargrave Ann Pope Irving Lewis Phyllis Tatum Mrs. y. M. Lewis Sixth Row Molly McDonald Virginia Mann Kay Scoggin Yc ' onne Voshall Seventh Row Joan Pecht Betsy Goodman Sarah Jane Sheppard Janet Garrison Nancy Blankenship President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Chaplain . Advisor Cris W()od Tri-Hi-Y Claudette Spencer Alease Palmore Charlotte Slate Mary Ann West Cora Willis Mrs. Mildred Sadler First Row Mary Ann W ' est Charlotte Slate Claudette Spen cer Alea.se Palmore .Cora M ' illis Second Roio Shirley Campbell Ann Evans Barbara Warriner Jean Sheffield Betty Sadler Charlotte Davis Susie Laffoon Shirley Tyner Betty Lou Addison Charlotte Brv ' ant Key Club President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Advisor Bobby Duncan Ira Andrews - Russell Early Howard Redford Mr. Joe Halloway Seated Howard Redford Bobby Duncan Russell Early First Row Mr. Halloway Marvin Boswell Nick Ruffin Randolph Hinkle Fred Swearingen Jack Evans Landon Smith Hamilton Evans David McCants Second Row Marvin Hogue Ronald Kirkland Sidney Sutherland Arlick Brockwell Oliver Rudy Titird Row Norman Wong Louis Johnson Bernard Bortz Albert Cheely John Francis Ben Levy David Young Members not in the picture Ira Andrews Bobby Laney Library Staff President Bobby Matthews Vice-President David McCants Secretanj-Reporter Gregory Underwood Advisor . Mrs. Gladys Spencer First Row Second Row Third Row Jeanette McMullan Nancy Collins Elma Mackey Carole Price Susan Elliot Mrs. Spencer Shelhy Browder Martha Moody David McCants Carolyn Moon Nancy Gill Claiborne Neinecek Mildred Moore Marlene Braver Gregory Underwood Nancy Gailey Teresa Barreto Donald Moore Jane Cone Judy Powell Pat Jarvis Barbara Jones Ann Evans Varsity Cheerleaders Head Cheerleader Tucker Ramsey Advisor Miss Mary Bailey First Row Standing Miss Bailey Second Row Betsy Goodman Fret Roper Da ' id MeCants Betsy Hargrave Dan Moore Nancy Fowler Dottie Gill Tucker Ramsey Jill Hesse Donald Show Nell Roper Garthon Gurrin Barbara Richardson Marvin Boswell J. V. Cheerleaders Head Cdicer Leader Susan Elliot Advisor Miss Mary Bailey V from left to right Irving Lewis Scotty Steel Ann Pope Susan Elliot Mollie McDonald Laura Yates Dottie Coulter M id die of V Miss Mary Bailey Football Squad Co-Captains David Young, Winston Leatli Manager Howard Sherman Coaches Mr. Roland C. Day, Mr. Randolph Mallory Mr. Frank Teass, Mr. Edward Cavanangh First Row Winston Leath Roland Bowles Charles ' ray “Skitehy” Rudy Nick Ruffin Joe Watson Bobby Duncan Fred Swearingen Bilh’ Engles Edward Burton Robert Miles David Young Second Row Tommy Burnett David Morin Maynard Sandford John Francis Jack Evans Irving Sandford Joe Blankenship Arlick Brockwell Morris Ellis Douglas Vaughan Remmie Rowlett George Wilkinson Richard Bowman Third Row Tommy Kellam Jimmy Traylor Bobby Laney Lavan Price Hamilton Evans James O’Berry Pat Porter Donald Frenier Pete M ' right Deon Shea Randolpli Hinkle Donald Pond Elliot Elder Ronald Pond Basketball Team Co-Captains Curt Adkins, Oliver Rudy Managers Tommy Zix, Ben Levy Coach Mr. Bob Kilbourne First Row Second Row Third Row Bobby Duncan Jolin Francis Tommy Marek Tnckcr Ramsey Landon Smith Harvey Ba.xter Oliver Rudy Fred Swearingen Maynard Moore Curt Adkins Sidney Sutherland Terry Collett jay Patterson Jack Evans Bobby Hatchett - Bobby Duncan Fred Brockwell, Jimmy Stewart Mr. Randolph Mallory Captain Managers Coach First Row Bobby Hatchett Claiborne Leonard Wiley Underhill Bobby Duncan Donald Pond Fred Swearingen Bobby Leonard Baseball Team Second Row Ronald Pond Jimmie Talbott Marshall Hughes Harvey Baxter Merline O’Neil Butch Bedford Bobby Massey Third Roio Coach Randy Mallory Nick Ruffin Elliot Elder Frank Addison Edward Burton Pat Porter Ed Webb Hoc:kp]y Squad Co-Captains Joan Beach, Jean Parrish Manager Johnnie Mae Goins Coach Miss Ann VanLandingham First Row Jean Parrish Joan Beacli Second Row Miss VanLanclingliani Johnnie Mae Goins Katherine Paxton Elizabeth Bowen Nancy Gill Barbara Mayfield Barbara Leete Helen Harlow Becky Fly Annette Bailey June Walker Lola Faison Girls’ Basketball Team Co-Captain Joan Beach Co-Captain Elizabeth Bowen Co-Manager Lola Faison Co-Manager Dot Tinney Coach Miss Ann VanLanclingham First Row Kay Powell Betty Harvey Elizabeth Bowen Joan Beach Nancy Talbott Annette Bailey Second Row Sonja Williams Kaye Rigby Shelby Temple Joan Pecht Julia Hogwood Rose Addison Third Row Betty Gray Barbara Spaight Mary Sue Holland Barbara Inge Helen Harlow Fourth Row Lola Faison Barbara Mayfield Dot Tinney Miss VanLandingham nngB nf tl|? ' l f r. 1 ■ - I ' •• .t K. , I -Jr ' , V I ' . f s ' .•f- f ■■ ' •� ' ■: fU. PROLOGUE • • • By Nell Roper From the cotton fields of the deep south, past the Suwanee River beyond the “trail of the lonesome pine”, the American way of fiving has brought forth our immortal “Songs of the South.” We shall begin the interpretation of our theme with folk ballads. Since it was difficult for the pioneers to provide the bare necessities of fife for their families, as a consequence, stories of pathos and toil as well as those of pleasure were related in the form of song. Among the most appealing southern songs are the folk hymns of the Negro slaves. These hymns we call Negro Spirituals. From the days of slavery when Negroes first were converted to Christianity, they exhibited in their songs of refigion grief of exile from their na- tive country and comfort in their new faith. Having been placed on beautiful plantations throughout the south, they worked as slaves all day in the fields. While working in the heat of the sun, they would sing about their duties. In the cool of the evening, songs of pleasure and relaxation could often be heard into the night. The Civil War, like other great wars, produced its own songs to inspire the boys in grey as well as the people. We dare say that there are few of us who can refrain from patting a foot when the strains of “Dixie” fill the air. Now we come to Dixieland Jazz, considered by many the South’s most outstanding contribution to Modem American Music. There are those who think of jazz as current popular melodies. In reality, it is a distinctive type of syncopated music and quite different from “swing” and “boogie woogie.” Negroes drumming off-beat rhythmic patterns around a musical theme, created this unusual arrangement of music which has become increasingly popular throughout the twentieth century. Now that we have a brief conception as to the origin of southern songs, let’s venture into the world of music and explore the interest- ing stories and facts behind the great “Songs of the South.” The Missile page five Foil? Ballads F OLK BALLADS OF THE SOUTH are of the literary and musical world. They are divided into two main divisions, modern and traditional. Among the modern ballads, one may find many favorites such as “Casey Jones” and the “Old Chizzum Trail.” The great old traditional ballads of the south, such as “The Wife of Usher’s Well” and “Bonny Barbara Allen”, provide entertainment for old and young alike in as much as the stories behind these great ballads are extremely interesting! Modem Ballads By Eddie Blacker T he modern ballad is quite different from the traditional ballad in that it usu- ally has a known author, and it hardly ever is passed on by word of mouth. Rather it is passed on by some of the world’s latest inventions, such as the radio, record player, and television. In content, however, the modern ballad is essen- tially the same as the traditional ballad. It tells a story and it has the same meter as the traditional ballad. Some people might argue that the songs that we call ballads today are not ballads at all, since they violate one of the cardinal rules by not having an author. However, most people accept the songs that are introduced as ballads. Some of the songs that we hear so often, that we might never think are ballads are just that. One famous ballad of a couple of years ago is “Tennessee Waltz”. That song quickly made a fortune for the author, and it is still popular and will continue to be popular. The big hit today, Eddie Fisher’s “Oh My Papa”, is proof that the ballad is still popular with the people and that with a few new twists, the old form of ballads are still popular. Casey Jones By Betty Harvey “Come all you rounders, if you want to hear The story of a brave engineer. Casey Jones was the rounders name On a big eight-wheeler of a mighty fame.” Every southerner knows “Casey Jones”. It has been hummed on levees, in cotton fields and around railroad junctions for as long as most folks can remember. The Missile page six According to legend, Casey Jones, an engineer on the old cast-iron, pin and link trains, died a hero in a train wreck between Canton, Mississippi, and Memphis, Ten- nessee. He threw his train off the track in order to save the lives of the people on the passenger train coming ’round the bend. Until recently, when people have become interested, no one has ever been able to determine the origin of the “Casey Jones” ballad, and since, like most ballads and folk songs, it has no permanent author or copyright, it cannot be traced to its origin. In 1912, the mayor of Canton, Mississippi, wrote to someone publishing a ballad book, that Wallis Sanders was the author of the now popular ballad. When the publisher went to Canton to confirm the story, he found that the old darky, Sanders, was dead. However, his married daughter led them to Wallis’ closest friend in the round house, Cornelius Steen. Steen, retired after nearly forty years in the old round house at Canton, spun this yarn about the origin of “Casey Jones.” Many years ago he heard the song, “Jim- mie Jones” sung by a strolling street guitarist in Kansas City. He brought it back to the round house and “Wash” Sanders, who worked with him, liked it so much that he began to add verses on to it himself, and sat by the hour singing it while never repeat- ing the same stanza. A few years later Casey, who had a regular run between Can- ton and Memphis and a good friend of both Sanders and Steen, was killed in the now famous wreck. Sanders then made him the hero of his song and changed the name “Jimmie Jones” to “Casey Jones.” This is all that Steen could remember of it. “On a Sun day mornin it begins to rain, ’Round de curve spied a passenger train. On the pilot lay pd Casey Jones (Jimmie Jones) He’s a good oV porter, but he’s dead an gone.” On the other hand, Henry Trevelyan says this is the original Casey Jones he heard when he came to Canton to work on the Illinois Central. Here are two verses in which Casey is not made out to be the hero. “Casey Jones was a li’V behin. He thought prob’ly he could make up de time. Got up in his engine, an he walked about. Gave three loud whistles an’-a he pulled out. Right-hand side dey was a-wavin of flags. Wavin’ of flags to save Casey’s life, Casey Mowed te whistle an he never looked back. Never stopped a’ runnin ’til he jumped de track.” Still another story is told about the origin of “Casey Jones.” T. Lawrence Sie- bert and Edward Newton, walking the streets of New Orleans, heard a little colored boy singing some verses. They particularly liked the ditty and thought perhaps they could revise it and use it in their act in vaudeville. In 1909 when they found out that there was no known author, they wrote the song to their own liking and sang it around vaudeville. It was a catchy ditty and became popular fast, and it is their version that is the one most sung by people today. However, they cannot be credited with the original song. However you hear it, or from whom, “Casey Jones” is a stirring ballad with a catchy tune and since no one knows its origin, as no one knew what caused Casey’s The Missile page seven wreck, it will go along with Casey to his grave. But t he legend of the famous wreck has brought us a ballad that will live as long as there are railroad men and as long as there are those who’ll listen— Headaches and heartaches and all kinds of pain. They ain’t apart from a railroad train. Stories of brave men, noble and grand. Belong to the life of a railroad man.” Trees By Margaret Hunter Who could this prompt dressmaker be That never lets a season pass Without a new frock for each tree. Which is a nice and well dressed lass Who leads the parade for others to see? In summer the trees are bright and green With bird nests in their leafy hair. And stand so stately and serene. Lifting their limbs as if in prayer. Thanking one they have never seen. In fall the tree is like a clown Dressed in shades of red and yellow. Never allowing the world to frown Because he is a gay young fellow Bringing delight to every town. Winter sends snow to cover the trees. Making them caps of snow white lace. Also blankets to warm their knees. Whistling, the winds sing out in bass, Please give a glimpse of spring to these.” Then spring peeps o’er the veil of snow. Touching each tree with a magic kiss. Allowing the dormant buds to know They must awake from sleep to bliss Because they have such grace to show. The Missile page eight Ckain Gang Ballads By Alfred Knight T HE SUN was hot; broiling hot. Hot enough to fry an egg — or a man’s brains. Under this merciless sun, a group of some of the most wretched creatures in the world work- ed at exhausting labor for which they received neither pay nor praise. Such was the chain gang. Yet these men, who had so little to sing about, produced some of the South’s most rhythmical songs and ballads. They were not soft, melodious ballads, but the plain- tive, emotional ballads of men without hope. Many of these men died of sunstroke, bad food, or just plain weariness. Some of their ballads expressed the fear that they would die in the chain gang and their longing to be home. One o dese mornins an it wont be lon , You gonna call me an til be gone. Ninety-nine years so jumpin’ long To be here rollin’ an cain go home. Since most of these ballads originated in the fields, they have a strong rhythmical beat which is marked by the slash of the ax as it bites into a tree, or the smash of the hammer as it cracks a rock down the middle. O Lawd dat hammer Hammer ring. O Lawd dat hammer Hammer ring. Ringin’ like jedgement Hammer ring. Some of the ballads have an interesting story behind them. One tells of the es- cape of a prisoner, one Long John Green. The sheriff had just bought a pack of blood hounds and wanted to try them out. He selected Long John, a past master at jail- breaking to make trail. He gave the convict a short head start and then took out after him with the hounds. John crawled through a barrel to get the dogs off the scent and got away. The sheriff was removed from office a short time afterward. Next to despair, the dominant emotion of the convicts was bitterness. Bitterness at the terrible labor and worse food. At the cruel task master with his stinging whip and the black trusties, eager to earn a parole by shooting down convicts who attempt- ed to escape. But along with this bitterness, there was a streak of tragic humor which is reflected in many of their ballads. Ain but de one thing I done wrong, Ain but de one thing I done wrong, Ain but de one thing I done wrong. Stayed in Mississippi jus’ a day too long. It is fortunate that these men had their ballads, for if they had not been able to sing, they would have gone mad with despair. This is best expressed in their ovm words. When you think I’m laughin’ I’m laughing to keep from cryin. The Missile page nine Mountain Ballads By Randolph Hinkle From the time that the sturdy little bunch of Pilgrims landed on the shores of Ply- mouth Rock, and man began his long, hard journey over the hills and plains of Amer- ica, the history of the people and their struggles, and the legends of the American way has been brought forth in song, in one form or another. The first of these songs were the ballads, that were passed down from one generation to another. Most of the original ballads are forgotten now, except for the mountain people, who still hold on to this tradition. However, it seems that the definition of the ballad still holds true; that is, that it is a story that is sung, and passed down to the next generation. Within the last five years, many of the top tunes on the “Hit Parade” have been taken straight from the original mountain ballads. Only the rhythm, or the tempo of the ballad has been changed, usually. A good example of this would be “Down In the Valley” very popular only a cou- ple of years ago. It was also the favorite ballad of the early settlers in the Alleg- hany mountains. This is an example of a ballad that was taken almost exactly as it was first sung. The tune is almost exactly as it was first sung. The tune is almost ex- actly the same as it was, and two of the verses came almost without change. Another example would be “On Top of Old Smoky” taken from the ballad of “Polly Williams”, the story of a girl who falls in love with, and puts all her trust in a certain young man, only to be deserted by him when he sees something better. The tune is exactly the same, and the words are taken from the idea of the story. One of the most popular ballads of the early mountaineers was the story of the “Roving Gambler”. This is the story of a smart, good-looking gambler, who goes to Washington to see if he can do any business. While there, he meets a young girl, and they fall in love. She tells her mother that she is going with him, and her mother cries, to think that her daughter would leave her to go off and marry a gambling man. The daughter is stubborn, however, and she tells her mother she won’t marry a farmer, because he’s always wet, and has to stay in the rain, and besides, the gamb- ling man has a cane made out of gold. Then, she says, she won’t marry a doctor, be- cause he has to leave often, and is seldom at home, and she adds that the gambling man would stay with her always. Finally, she says that she wouldn’t marry a raihoad man, because everyone knows they always lie. Another of the popular ballads of the early days was a two-part ballad, sup- posedly sung by a woman and her husband. This ballad is probably the forerunner of the child’s song “Oh, Where Have You Been, Billy Boy.” In the ballad, the wife relates all the pleasures that she enjoyed when she was single. She sings that she dressed fine, and that her shoes always squeaked. She said that she ate pie and biscuits, and had hardly any work to do. Then, after she got married, she said she was dressed in rags, and now her shoes leaked. She had cornbread to eat, and little of that. Her husband drank and left her with all of the work to do. Then, the husband gives his side of the story. He says that when he was single his pockets jingled. He married one woman, and treated her bad. Later, she got sick and died. He married again, and he says that she acted like a witch. She beat him, and he says that once she was going to hang him. She got a rope, and greased The Missile page ten it up to make sure it would work. The only thing that saved him was that the limb broke. He says the moral of his story is to “be good to your first wife”. “The Little Maker” is another of the famous ballads of the mountains. It is still sung today in the summer camps in the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia. This is the story of a sailor who came to a strange country. He met a beautiful Indian girl. She falls in love with him. She asked him to marry her. He says that he can’t because he loves a girl in his own country. He says he can’t forsake his girl. He leaves to return home. When he arrives, he finds that his girl has left him, so he returns across the sea to his httle Nrohee. These are only a few of the main ballads of these times, but they show the ideas of the people of the time. Tke CowLoy ' s Dream By Alfred Knight Throughout history, men have dreamed of a life beyond the grave where all will be peace and joy. The cowboy’s idea of heaven expressed in “The Cowboy’s Dream” is not of golden streets and jeweled palaces, but of the things he loved best, green pastures and silver mountain streams. As with most old folk songs, “The Cowboy’s Dream” has several versions. The words are similar in all versions and the tune is always that of “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean”. God is represented by the Rider who cuts from the “herd” those not fitted to graze on His celestial range. The damning of the guilty and the reward of the deserving are expressed in cowboy language in the last three stanzas of the ballad. But along with the strays and the sleepers. The tradings must turn from the gate. No road brand to give them admission. But that awful sad cry “Too late”. But I trust in that last great round-up. When the Rider shall cut the great herd. That the cowboy will be represented In the earmark and brand of the Lord. To be shipped to that bright mystic region. Over there in green pastures to lie. And be led by the crystal still waters. To the home in the sweet by and by. The Missile page eleven Tke old Ckisliolm Trail By Nancy Gailey In 1836, Jesse Chisholm came to Wichita, Kansas, from the East. Jesse was part Scotch and part Cherokee. His mother was a Rogers, and the family of Rogers, along with that of the Chisholms was one of the first families to go West from Tennessee to Arkansas into Oklahoma and Kansas. Due to his knowledge of the Indian language, Jesse became an interpreter to the Indians for the government. Traveling back and forth through the Indian country to various tribes took him South to San Antonio. He traveled this route so often that it became known as the Chisholm Trail. After the War Between the States, men returning to their homes on the plains were quite surprised to find how the longhorn cattle had over-run the countryside. Their first problem was how to get rid of them. To ship them out by rail was the best solution, but as the nearest railroad was in Kansas, the cattle had to be driven there on foot. Therefore, from Texas and all over the Southern and Western states, cow- boys came herding their cattle in to Kansas along the Chishohn Trail. “The Old Chisholm Trail” is one of the best known of the old ballads. It is the song most universally sung by cowboys, and has never been proven to be anything but a product of the plains. It is among the longest of the old ballads, also telling in cowboy language of life on the “Ok Chizzum Trail”! When written in its entirety, it relates nearly every experience that could happen to a group of cowboys driving a herd of cattle to Kansas. Truly, “The Old Chisholm Trail” is a ballad that will never be forgotten as long as there are people to remember the best of the old folk music! Tke Wreck of Old 9 7 By Buzz Nowlin Some fifty years ago. Old 97 came roaring down the slope of White Oak Mountain to plunge to its doom in a shower of cinders. On that Sunday afternoon, the crash was like thunder as the mail train jumped the curving trestle at the foot of the moun- tain, and drove itself into the ground on the opposite side of the one hundred foot gulley. Panic and chaos resulted, as the men worked to release the wounded and dead from the splinters of the wooden cars. In a small town, now called Gretna, north of Danville, David George, the tele- graph operator, saw the train as it passed his station “on the romp”. While Old 97 made record speed as it bore down on the trestle which it wasn’t to cross that day, David George left for Danville because he knew that speed and curves do not mix. David George claimed to have written “The Wreck of the Old 97” after he gazed on the scene of the wreck resting in the gulley near Danville. The Victor Talking Ma- chine Company made and sold many recordings, but David George claimed author- The Missile page twelve ship, as did Henry Whittier, of Lynchburg, and George Noel of Greensboro, North Garolina. The fight was on. Victor obtained recording rights, after appealing to a higher Federal Court when the suit against them was set at $65,000 in damages. David George, the claimant, lost his legal authorship of a very popular and widely sold bal- lad— “The Wreck of Old 97 ”. All references— Richmond Times-Dispatch, Sept. 27, 1953. Tke Atom 1 By Richard Gummins So small an atom, o tiny minute thing. And yet a complex million can scarcely fill The small circumference of a pointed quill. And yet in this vast world thou art the king And all creation at thy command doth bring Great gruesome fear in the minds of men to instill. That nations fall and crumble at thy will And lives are lost in death’s tyrannical sting; When great men awesomely bow at they great power The very essence of their being shakes. And every moment of each flying hour Is filled with dread and terror thy presence makes. I quake and quiver at the thought of thee. For thou might cause the very end of me! II By Walter Grutchfield Each atom a solar system lone and free. Each nucleus a blazing star so bright. Each small electron a world and satellite. With wee inhabitants of land and sea. Not much unlike this world of you and me. Around the nucleus circle electrons quite Resembling Sol and all its worlds in spite Of what the disbelievers might decree. What worlds are crushed and torn apart each time We split an atom? What crime do we commit? What kings, what realms, what empires end their climb? And what event in all this world’s short skit Of history makes you think the most sublime Are we? Some day our atom may be split! The Missile page thirteen Traditional Ballads By Eddie Blacker The traditional ballad is one that has been handed down from generation to generation by word of mouth. The fact that it has been handed down by word of mouth accounts for the many different versions of one ballad that can be found. There is one old southern ballad, “Barbara Allen”, which has twelve different versions. Though some of the differences occur in the music, most of them occur in the words. The story of “Barbara Allen” is about her boy friend, who is in bed sick for the love of Barbara Allen. The different versions have the story take place in London, Tennessee, and the y change the name of the boy friend from William to James and to Willie. Different as these may be, they all have the same name, and it is rather a wonder that though these ballads underwent so many changes, they still have the same title. There were many ballads for things other than to express love. Some of the ballads were to be sung in the fields to keep the workers amused as they toiled. Some of the ballads were humorous and told the stoiy of people in the town and unusual and comical happenings that took place. The traditional ballad was one of the things that the southern people cher- ished and through societies and organizations they have kept them living even today when such ballads as “Carry Me Back to Ole Virginny”, “Old Black Joe”, “Casey Jones”, and many others are still sung to this day and will be sung for a long time to come. Young Beickan By Barbara Mayfield Y ouNG beichan” is one of the most famous of the old ballads sung in the mountains of Virginia. As in any ballad, it has been handed down through the time by singing the ballad in fellowship. Each time parts aie left out, changed, and added to. There are more than ten variations to this ballad, although they are all relatively the same story. Young Beichan, an Englishman of high degree, becomes restless and wants to sail the seas. He goes to Turkey, but when he arrives, he is captured by a Turk and thrown into prison. They drill a hole in his shoulder and tie a string in it forcing him to pull an iron block all day. After remaining there awhile, away from his freedom and becoming weak from the pain, he begins to die. One day a fair young maiden, daughter of the Turk who had captiued him, sees him, and immediately falls in love with him. She steals the keys to the prison and frees Beichan. Then she takes him to her father’s house and gives him strong wines. They both realize their love for each other and make a promise that neither will marry anodier for seven years. Ten years pass and the fair young maiden has neither married, nor has she heard from Beichan, who is far across the sea in England. She decides to seek her lover and goes to England. The Missile page fourteen When she arrives, she finds out, to her horror, that Beichan has just brought home a wife. Nevertheless, she asks the porter to inquire if Beichan still remembers the woman who set him free from prison. The porter obliges and when Beichan hears that his true love has come across the sea to him, he quickly bids the mother of the bride to take her daughter, for she is none the worse for him. He runs to the fair maiden’s side and marries her. This ballad is also known as “Lord Bateman”, “The Turkish Lady” and “Lord Bateman and the Turkish Lady”. Young Beichan was collected by Miss Martha M. Davis, and sung by Granny L., Rappahannock Co., Virginia, March 2, 1916. It is written in a simple manner and tells a simple story with a happy ending. The Wife of Usher’s Well By Randolph Hinkle The “Wife of Ushers Well” is one of the best known of the traditional ballads that has crossed the sea. The earfiest known version of this ballad originated in two places at about the same time. It began in the northern part of Scotland, and somewhere in the English countryside. It is impossible to mention all the different phases of the English version, and for that reason, we are concerned with only one. This is the one taken by Sir Walter Scott, from a woman in West Tothian, England. In this version a woman has three sons. When they became old enough, they left her to go to sea. At the end of three weeks she received the news that her sons are dead, and she weeps grievously. In the middle of November, she sees them com- ing down the road. They come in and greet her, and she thinks that her boys are really afive. Then she notices that they are wearing birch hats. Since birch was not grown in England or in any of the surrounding countries at that time, she reas- oned that they must have come from Heaven. It is interesting to note that she had a maid, whom she asked to start a fire, and make up the beds. The boys, however, say that they are only earthly pleasures, not to be engaged in by them. The boys are startled by the crowing of the cock, showing the approach of dawn. They say they must return to the grave before daybreak, or they will not be re-admitted back into Heaven. They leave without any further word. One of the most popular superstitions of early English history is that ghosts of human beings could walk the earth at night, but they were frightened back into the grave each morning by the crowing of the cock, signifying the coming of day. Leg- end has it that the people of these times, during a holiday or time of feast, would light candles, or employ other means of keeping the poultry awake and crowing, in order that the ghosts would stay in their places. Shakespeare shows his familiarity with this legend in “Hamlet”. In this play the ghost of Hamlet’s father has to leave, be- cause of the crowing of the cock. There are also many American versions of this ballad, several of these originating in Virginia. The Virginia ballads go by several names, among them: “The Lady Day”, “The Three Little Babes”, and “The Beautiful Bride”. The Missile page fifteen According to these versions, a young woman sends her three sons, or children, oflF to school in the north. After a time she finds out that they have died. The mother prays for her children’s return. They return around Christmas. She receives them joyously, and prepares them a feast, but they refuse to eat because it is forbidden by the Saviour. Then, she fixes the beds for them to sleep in, but again they refuse, saying it is only a sign of worldly pride. They leave at the first signs of morning. It is strange that nowhere in the Virginia ballads is the cause of death given. Most experts, however, attribute it to the widespread epidemic of some disease. They return for two different reasons. Some versions say that it is because of her prayer, and others say it was to prevent her grief. The American versions were always far more religious than the English and Scottish. There is a great deal of variance in the time until the mother finds out that they are dead. The time varies from two weeks, to three years. Also, there is a great deal of disagreement as to sex. The English versions al- ways said that it was three boys. In the American versions the sex is usually not mentioned, but in some, it actually changes to three girls. Some versions say that they left because of the crowing of the cock, others say it was because of an appointment with the Saviour. As this type of ballads were the first real music, it is natural that there have been many changes in both the words and the tune. The words to these ballads were seldom taken down, instead they were passed on from generation to generation, down through the famihes. The collectors of the ballads wandered through the mountain villages and sel- dom visited communities, collecting either on record, or paper, all the songs that they heard. BarLara Allen By Margaret Hunter If the people of the atomic age could retrospect into a southern home on a frosty night in the late sixteenth century, they would visualize the family of the home and neighbors gathered around the fire place popping corn or roasting marshmallows and singing their favorite songs. Many of the songs they sang were the grand old songs of their English childhood which their children would learn and teach to all America. One of the most popular “fire-side” songs they sang was “Barbara Allen”, a sad love song, which centers around the month of May. A young man is dying because of his love for Barbara Allen. He calls his servant to his bedside and sends him to bring the one he loves to him. When she arrived at his bedside, she began to make false accusations against him. While pleading with her to love him he slowly passed away. As she left his bedside she seemed to hear some death-bell tolling out, “Hard- hearted Barbara Allen”. Then she visuahzed her lover’s corpse coming towards her. Her anger vanished in the reahzation of the loss of her lover and soon sorrow took her life away. They were buried in different churchyards and out of his grave grew a red rose and a briar from hers. The briar and the rose entwined in a true lover’s knot for aU true lovers to admire. The Missile page seventeen Ne gro Spirituals people hear the words, Negro spirituals, they usually think of great religious works put to music. Well, that is partly correct, but along with rehgious music, spirituals consist of songs of work and pleasure. In other words, they tell an everyday story. Negro spirituals are noted for their value and beauty and they certainly make up one of the finest bodies of folk songs in the world. Spirituals are characteristic of African music, in that one can al- ways hear that strong rhythmic beat. Yes, it is believed that the “ole” Negro Spirituals of the South will remain distinctive Negro folk songs for a great many years. Work Songs By Ira Lee Andrews In tiacing the Negro Spiritual to its origin, one must go back many years into dark Africa. There, in the humid junglelands, lived a race of dark-skinned people who we speak of today as Negroes. These dark people were an extremely versatile people, for they had to be com- petent huntsmen to get nourishment from the fierce, dark jungle. They had to be a clever people in order to survive the dangers and constant threat of wild animals. However, these people had a trait of music genius which the entire world knows today as the Negro Spiritual songs. In 1619, traders brought some of these Negroes to America and they were put to work on the immense plantations of the South. The Negro was undoubtedly out of place in America. The climate was very different from that of his home; people would often gather and have a little preaching service with a good portion of the service de- voted to the singing of their songs. A very strong factor in the rhythm of these Negro Spirituals is the emotion of the Negro. No song sung by Negroes, or even created by them, would be complete without an occasional “Hallelujah” or “Amen”. This contributes to the rhythm of the Spiritual because it somehow worked itself into the song as a part of the song. So, if the Negro hadn’t been quite so emotional, the Spiritual would probably be just another song. There is no way to classify Negro Spirituals because they weren’t meant to be classified. In fact, they weren’t meant to be of world-renown. Therefore, the only classification of the Spirituals can be either happy or joyous; he was pushed around by white people whom he knew nothing about; and he was compelled to labor in the fields of his master. These people had no interests in America, nor did they have any pursuits of happiness. They were therefore obfiged to make the most of such a tragic situation. The Missile page eighteen The Negroes undoubtedly would assemble at eventide around a camp-fire and they would talk. Most of the talk would be Bible stories, apparently because one of these musical folk began to keep time to these stories or ballads, as the case might be. Another darky would maybe commence to hum a tune and gradually the rhytmic beat of the foot and the steady hum would develop into a group sing. These people are truly marvelous, for who of us could begin to hum a tune to the words another was reciting and thus create a song which would last through centuries? Being a religious race, these are mournful and sad. Both types, however, gen- erally express hope for the future. Some of our Negro Spirituals which are better known are: “Ezekial Saw the Wheel”, “Coin’ to Shout All Over God’s Heaven”, “How Long de Train Been Gone”, “Deep River”, “Nobody Knows de Trouble I Seen”, “Swing Low, Sweet Ghariot”, and “Sinner, Please Don’t Let This Harvest Pass”. The Negro Spiritual is considered by many the major contribution of America to the music of the world. Languid Songs By Betty Harvey It can be well said that the South is the “birthplace” of our languid songs, as well as our jazz, blues, spirituals and ballads. What is a languid song? Well, it’s a song that just plain song everyone likes to sing, and if they don’t know the words, hum. It’s a song that has to do with everyday life or a catchy little ditty that, as we hum it, seems to enlighten our burdens or make our work seem easier. I guess the best place to start the long history of the languid songs, is with the American Negro. Here, as is true of many of our songs, the idea was created. The Negro slave, happy-go-lucky fellow, hums and sings to himself all the day long, and it just seems that the melody is catching, because before the day is over, someone up at the “Big House” is rocking the baby to sleep by it or is picking it out on the ole banjo and before you know it, the tune started out in the cornfield has become one of the favorites at the community sing. One of the best known of these is “G’an ta jump down, turn ’round an’ pic a bale o’ cotton”, another, one that is still sung over and over today, “In the Evenin’ by the Moonlite.” Not all of our languid songs have come from the Negroes however, a great many have been derived from the working class. The songs of the steamboat pilots, canal- men, cowboys, hoboes, railroad men and others. Some of the most outstanding of these songs are “Ole Man River” and “Waterboy”. During the Givil War some of the most beautiful languid songs were sung by both sides. As funny as it may seem, both the north and the south’s battle songs (“Dixie” and “Battle Hymn of the Republic”) were popular songs written, and sung by, the folks in both regions. Such haunting favorites as “John Brown’s Body”, “Lorna Doone”, “Bonnie Blue Flag”, several versions of “Dixie” and “The Georgia Malitia’s Eating Goober Peas”, all arose from the “gentlemen’s war” days. Stephen Foster, along with his non-forgettable classicals, wrote some of our great languid songs, “De Gamptown Races”, “Ole Black Joe”, and a score of others. From the deep, deep south and the southwest came such songs as “Spanish Johnny”, “Home On the Range”, etc. These and many others are popular favorites around camp-fires and at our mod- ern community sings. They are everlasting favorites that are sung by everyone, for- gotten by none. Gome to think of it, you may be humming one of them now. The Missile page nineteen Immortality of Neg ro Spirituals By Carol Lavenstein t HERE is a universality of appeal about the Negro music that makes it something more than the chant of a single race. The songs are so fundamentally human that they have already outlived the generation and conditions that produced the oldest of them.” To achieve immortality means to have endless life. The Negro spiritual is im- mortal because it was given hfe by a people whose songs came from their very heart and soul, and they sang these songs about every aspect of their life. A great step towards immortalizing the Negro spiritual was begun early in the 20th century when this music was given thoughtful attention by serious composers. Such composers as T. Carl Whitmer wrote“Spiritual Music Dramas”. “Overture on Negro Themes” and “Negro Rhapsody” were written by Henry Franklin Gilbert. And best known of these is the “Negro Folk Symphony, No. I” composed by William L. Dawson. This symphony has been performed several times by the Philadelphia Or- chestra. These works lack much, but putting such melodies into formal music, has done much to preserve the spirituals and to preserve the spirituals and to bring atten- tion to their great possibilities. Though not taken directly from known spirituals, George Gershwin borrowed much from Negro music to write the stirring opera, “Porgy and Bess”. Jerome Kern did much the same thing when he wrote the popular ballad, “O’l Man River” for “Show Boat”. The Negro Spiritual is the source of three important types of melodies in the development of American music. These are the minstrel song, ragtime or jazz, and blues. If the Negro songs had accompHshed nothing more than these three offspring, they would have achieved a high position in musical history. Perhaps the strongest proof of the permanence of the Negro spiritual is our sub- conscious love of these songs. Without reahzing it, people are continually humming such songs as “We Are Climbing Jacob’s Ladder”, “Let My People Go”, “Turkey In the Straw”, and many others, thus proving the undying popularity of the Negro Spiritual. said by Alain Locke in the “New Negro”. Love at First Sigkt By Betty Stanton 1 glimps’d A vision of straw With flowers and ribbons red; 1 knew I must own that dream so rare, Le chapeau! The Missile page twenty-one Songs o f tlie Civil War great wars have produced songs, and people keep on singing them long after throughts of war have vanished. Usually the songs that have given inspiration to multitudes of people are the ones that live on and on, rather than those that con- sist of the actual facts of war. “Dixie’ , one of the greatest Civil War songs, became the symbol of the Confederacy when Jefferson Davis was inaugurated in 1861. Another very important war song of this period was “Maryland, My Maryland!”, which today is not as popular as “Dixie”, but, historically, is one of the most interesting of the war songs. Dixie By Maulene Braver It was a cold, rainy, Sunday morning in November, 1859. A man was sitting at a writ- ing desk in a dreary New York C ity boarding house composing a walk-around for the Monday performance of Bryant’s Minstrel, where he was employed. As Daniel Emmett sat pondering over his pen and paper, nine words began beat- ing a refrain in his mind— •“! wish I was in the land of cotton”— “I wish I was in the cot- ton”. Each time the words became more emphatic, until he discovered himself tap- ping a rhythm to them with the tip of his pen against the paper. When Emmett finished his song he played the melody through once or twice on the violin; after which he titled his piece, “I Wish I Was in Dixie’s Land”, presum- ably after a kind slave-holder on Manhattan Island, named Dixie, whose home was considered, by the Negro, as an earthly paradise; so when slavery moved southward, every kindly plantation became known as Dixie’s. On Monday evening, in Mechanics Hall, the minstrel proceeded as much as usual until the finale, when the new walk-around was presented. No song in that minstrel’s history had ever received so great an ovation; the audience went wild; they jumped out of their seats and stomped their feet. They called for encores and sung with the performers. Within the next few days half of New York City was singing “I Wish I Was in Dixie’s Land”. During the next few months Bryant’s Minstrel was filled to capacity crowds at every performance; and New Yorkers were clammoring for Emmett’s services. But Emmett couldn’t make ends meet; most of his appearances were before private audiences, in their homes, for which he was paid very little. So when he was feeling a little pressed for money he accepted, from an unknown buyer, five hundred dollars for the com- plete copyright of the song. That was the most money he ever made out of it. Because of its tremendous popularity in the North, the song was taken into Louisiana, where it was played before a packed house in New Orleans’ Variety Thea- The Missile page twenty-three tre. Philip Marleen, a New Orleans printer, was at its first southern performance, and liked it so well that he made copies of it and sent them all over the South under the title “Dixie”, named for the ten dollar bills, called Dix, that was first issued in the United States by the French, in New Orleans. By the beginning of the Civil War, “Dixie” had been written and revised sev- eral times. Born sides considered it to be their’s; so there are two war songs to its tune. The Yankee version was written by T. M. Conley, while the more famous southern one was composed by H. R. Stanton. On July 8, 1863, “Dixie” was played by the Confederates at the charge before the historic battle of Gettysburg, where it was recognized as the Confederate na- tional anthem. For the remainder of the war it was played by the Rebs before every battle. A few days following the war, Abraham Lincoln summed up the feelings of the whole nation when he said at the termination of a speech in Washington, “I see you have a band with you. I should like to hear it play ‘Dixie’. I consulted the Attorney- General, who is here by my side, and he is of the opinion that ‘Dixie’ belongs to us.” At the closing performance of Bryant’s Minstrel, in the latter part of the nine- teenth century, Daniel Emmett, by then an old man sang, in the finale, his song, “I Wish I Was in Dixie’s Land.” The entire audience rose in solemn reverence, which brought to them memories of their loved ones who lost their lives in the War Between the States. In 1904 Daniel Decatur Emmett died, a pauper, at eighty-nine in a shanty in Mt. Vernon, Ohio. So ends the story of the song “Dixie”, the most stirring anthem of the nineteenth century, which was written by a Negro, whose sympathies lay with the Union. No other song, before or after, has so expressed the feelings of a people at war. C)A history of Popular Music in America pp. 140-141, Spaith, Random House. Soaring Higli By LaVerne Smith Beyond the earth with graceful ease A plane ascends to a beauty grand Through clouds of white amid the blue Infinite heavens above the land. A steady climbing brings it high To wondrous space of heights unknown. And where it glides the atmosphere fills The engine’s constant droning tone. Then, in descending down to earth From clouds and glories of boundless skies, The roaring engines slowly cease With soft, contented, peaceful sighs. The Missile page twenty-four Lorena By Buzz Nowlin Lorena is the best known and the most popular of the songs of the boys in gray, bringing memories of the past, hope for the future, and a longing for their plantations and Southern lassies. Lorena is a war-time poem, supposed to have been written by a self-imprisoned brother of the Trappist brotherhood, who had left his sweetheart a hundred months before, to shut himself up in his own strict world of religion. ’ This poem was set to music and became very well known in the Civil War years. Per- haps Lorena became a quick marching song in the early victorious years, as men’s hearts became light and gay as the victories mounted and an early reunion seemed im- minent. Later when the battle-weary Rebels were defeated and pushed back, Lorena became a love song, full of memories of the past and a longing for their sweethearts and homes. Whatever occurred, Lorena is best remembered as a love song, sung by the boys in gray, as they become more and more depressed by their constant retreating. Lorena was published as sheet music several years before die War Between the States by Reverend H. D. L. Webster, the music was by J. P. Webster. ’ As the boys in gray were returning in long columns from the Confederate arm- ies to their homes in the United States, Lorena became popular again as they drew nearer and nearer to familiar places and as they drew nearer and nearer to their South- ern belles, who were not so far away. Last Verse It matters little now, Lorena, The past is in the eternal Past, Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena. Life’s tide is ebbing out so fast. There is a future! O, thank God! Of life this is so small a part! ’Tis dust to dust beneath the sod; But there, up there, ’tis heart to heart. Sound off. Soldiers’ Songs by Edward Dolph. ' Early American Sheet Music by Dichter and Shapiro. Our Clioice By Ann Lawrence We are standing now at a fork in the road And looking back on a way that’s been kind. A choice we must make to carry our load Along life’s path with spirit and mind. May we be given the strength to endure This journey with faith and never dismay. With heads held high and hearts that are pure. As each of these travellers makes his own way. The Missile page twenty-jive Vir ginian Marseillaise By Nancy Gailey fnri X HE “Virginian Marseillaise” was, at one time, one of the most popular of the Con- federate songs. It was spread over the South by the Virginian troops, who used it for a marching song. To the stirring music of the French “Marseillaise” are set words relating to the trials of the War period. The Virginia version was arranged by F. W. Rosier. This song today is virtually unknown. A o information on it can be found any- where. A piece of Confederate imprint sheet music provided the words and music, the only available reference. This piece of music was dated 1864. The Virginian Marseillaise Virginia hears the dreadful summons Sounding hoarsely from afar; On her sons she calls, and calmly Bids them now prepare for war. Bids them now prepare for war. With manly hearts, and hands to aid her. She cares not how her foeman swarm. She bares her bosom to the storm; While she laughs to scorn the proud invader. (Chorus) To arms! Brothers dear; Gird on the trenchant band! Strike Home! Strike Home! no craven fear! For home and native land! Strike Home! Strike Home! no craven fear! For home and native land! Second Verse Shall the sons of old Virginia Prove unworthy of their sires? No! They’ll show the haughty foeman. That in fight, she “never tires”. With favring Heaven to befriend her. To whom alone she bends the knee, ’Till every foot of soil is free. She her sacred cause will ne’er surrender. To arms! Third Verse A ray of never dying glory Shall Virginia’s brow ’o’erspread; Men unborn shall tell the story. How their fathers fought and bled. While fairest hands their wounds were tending. And brightest eyes the dear bewailed. How not a noble bosom quailed. E’en to die, their native land defending. To arms! The Missile page twenty-six Maryland, My Maryland By Judith Schultz The despot’s heel is on thy shore, Maryland. His torch is at thy temple door, Maryland. Avenge thy patriotic gore That flecked the streets of Baltimore And be the battle queen of yore, Maryland, My Maryland. These haunting words are the lyrics to probably the most famous song of and about “The War Between the States”. During the Civil War the popularity of Maryland was sharply divided. Mary- land, as a whole state, remained with the Union. However there were many of its people who were Confederate sympathizers. It was one of these, James Ryder Landall, who was the author of this great writing. After hearing of the death of a friend in an encounter with the Massachusetts Volunteers, he wrote it as a poem. It became popu- lar quickly, and appeared in almost every Southern journal. Later it was set to the music of “O Tannenbaum”, and became the “Marseillaise” of the Confederacy. The song did not, however, die with the end of the war. It is still the State anthem of Maryland, and will never be forgotten. Nigk By Jane Cone By day I see the misery And the wicked ways of man; I see the toil, the useless toil Of each life’s weary span. I hear the noise and strife of war Swerving us from God’s plan. Then night descends in velvet robes And softly treads the earth. She wraps me in inky silences. Fills me with hope and mirth. Night covers all the ugly moods And gives to man rebirth. Her zephyr breezes cool my face And gently tug my hair. They lift my heavy heart on heart; Soothe all my frets and cares. Night is a power reaching far; I feel God’s presence there. The Missile page twenty-seven Tke Bonnie Blue Flag By Margaret Hunter The southern soldiers of the Civil War sang as they marched and also around the campjfires for entertainment. Among the war ballads they sang was the very popular “The Bonnie Blue Flag” which originated in New Orleans in 1861. Harry McCarthy, in need of a song to complete an act at the Varieties Theatre, wrote it, using the tune of an old Irish song, “The Jaunting Car”. When his sister sang “The Bonnie Blue Flag” in the act the audience became so overwhelmed that the show had to be stopped. This ballad spread throughout the South and became the most popular march- ing song next to “Dixie”. The pubhsher, Blackmar, was arrested and fined by Butler, who was in command in New Orleans. Butler threatened to fine anyone who sang this song. This threat did not end “The Bonnie Blue Flag” for today it lives in the hearts of every true southerner. The Bonnie Blue Flag We are a band of brothers, a native to the soil. Fighting for the property we gained by honest toil; And when our rights were threatened, the cry rose near and far: Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star! Hurrah! Hurrah! for the Bonnie Blue Flag That bears a single star. As long as the Union was faithful to her trust. Like friends and like brothers, kind were we and just; But now when Northern treachery attempts our rights to mar. We hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star. First, gallant South Carolina nobly made the stand; Then came Alabama, who took her by the hand; Next, quickly Mississippi, Georgia, and Florida- All raised the flag, the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star. Ye men of valor, gather ’round the banner of the right; Texas and fair Louisiana join us in the fight. Davis, our loved President, and Stephens,, statesmen are; Now rally ’round the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star. And here’s to brave Virginia! the Old Dominion State With the young Confederacy at length has linked her fate. Impelled by her example, now other States prepare To hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star. Then here’s to our Confederacy; strong we are and brave. Like patriots of old we’ll fight, our heritage to save; And rather than submit to shame, to die we would prefer; So cheer for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star. Then cheer, boys, cheer, raise the joyous shout. For Arkansas and North Carolina now have both gone out; And let another rousing cheer for Tennessee be given. The single star of the Bonnie Blue Flag has grown to be eleven! Hurrah! Hurrah! for the Bonnie Blue Flag That bears a single star. —Harry McCarthy. The Missile page twenty-nine Dixieland Jazz T HE THEME “Songs of the South”, could not possibly be complete without mentioning the South’s major contribution to Modern Amer- ican Music, Dixieland Jazz. Since its dawn of popularity in the early nineteen hundreds. Dixieland Jazz has paved the way for many eminent musicians to achieve fame by providing an excellent outlet for their creative musi- cal ability. Along with Dixieland Jazz, the blues music, which is music with a definite distinguishable mood, has also made a lasting impression upon the music world today. Ori gin of ]azz By Sherry Rose F ROM New Orleans, Louisiana, a few years after the turn of the nineteenth century, an entirely new and unusual type of music began to make its appearance. It was un- usual due to the great extent to which improvision was put to use. Syncopated rhythm was another predominating characteristic, although a pause, or “break ”, as it was called, in the music which allowed a musician to play an improvised solo was the music’s actual stepping stone to popularity; for it presented to a musician an opportunity to effectively display his real abihty with his instrument. This led to many musicians at- tempting to “talk” with their instruments, by expressing their own personal feelings and emotions in their playing. This trait was especially important in blues music, where personal feeling was of prime significance. The origin of the word jazz is believed to be a derivation from an old Creole verb meaning to speed up. The basic element of strong rhythm was copied from the music of the African Negroes. Their ritual dances and the continuous beating of the drums during their ceremonies influenced the later generations of Negroes who came to New Orleans, and as a result, many brass bands were organized to carry on the tradition of having music played at every gathering on any occasion. Whether it was a funeral or a wedding, the marching band always furnished music. The French in- fluence on jazz music was brought in at this point, with reference to the “bre aks” or solos. The marching music brought to New Orleans by the French soldiers provided a pause for a short solo, and this was greatly accentuated by the Negro marching bands. When two bands would happen to meet on the street, they would attempt to outdo each other on these solos. Gradually, this idiom of music acquired recognition from points outside of New Orleans. Small bands began working their way up the Mississippi on river boats, until finally. Dixieland Jazz was well known in Chicago and New York. Bands were brought to these cities to play at cafes and other places of entertainment and proved to be very successful. The Missile page thirty Chicago, as well as New Orleans, played an important role in the development of jazz music, and as a result two different styles of Dixieland were brought about, each bearing the name of its respective city. The Chicago style was mildly referred to as “nervously explosive”, although it possessed a smooth steady rhythm which the New Orleans style lacked. The Southern style, however, was a more freely flowing expressive type of music. Both were equally as popular and it was the personal dis- cretion of the bandleader as to which style of Dixieland they would play. The instruments used for Dixieland Jazz since its infancy in New Orleans and later in Chicago remained the same except for the addition of the saxophone, which later became known as the “trademark of jazz”. The traditional trumpet, trombone, tuba or bass, banjo, clarinet, piano and drums provided more than enough variety for a band. At one time. Dixieland began to lose its popularity in favor of a smoother form of jazz called “swing”. The orchestra consisted of many more instruments and pro- vided better dancing music. However, it only included occasional solos, which gave it less color. Dixieland Jazz was definitely beyond notation and entirely creative, whereas, “swing” and another new form, “be bop” were written out and contained many set orchestral arrangements. The inereasing interest in Dixieland by more and more people terminated the threat of its dying out in favor of these other forms of jazz. Dixieland Jazz continues to live on in the hearts and minds of the American peo- ple and will never die as long as the fact is appreciated that it is “ . . . the first and only original art that the United States of America has produced in a century of trying”. FBOM osgood’s So TMs Is Jazz. A Storm By Ann Lawrence The sea creeps in and gently creeps out. So undecided, so seemingly mild. Like a woman scorned should she choose to pout. Her mood grows angry and viciously wild. She tosses her tresses and flaunts her power O’er the ship on her breast and the shore at her feet. Increasing in wrath, hour by hour. Mans fears and his prayers cant make her retreat. She rages and storms, a wild thing she is. Her might combined with the wind and the rain. The love she feels for man returns; Her anger is spent and she’s calm again. The Missile page thirty-one Birtk of tke Blues By Russell Eaely The fascinating note struck by the injection of the “blues” in modern musie was only a beginning to the increased tempo of America’s rhythm. Although “blues” music by now has realized its position among Twentieth Century achievements, its birth was exceedingly humble and unpretentious. The “blues” was first the product of Negro night clubs, particularly in the cities of New Orleans, St. Louis, and Memphis. But as all great movements demand leadership, the “blues” was only marking time until the man of the hour should appear. William Christopher Handy, the son of a Negro minister, launched his musical career over parental objections by performing in circuses and minstrel shows. By 1909 Handy had organized his own band, which was employed by E. H. Crump dur- ing the Memphis mayorality contest for which Crump was a candidate. Handy com- posed a radically different piece of music entitled Mr. Crump. The song immediately became popular, and E. H. Crump’s victory was generally attributed to the success of the composition. The song was later renamed Memphis Blues. William C. Handy became famous and quiekly followed suit with other such songs as Beale St. Blues, Careless Love, and Joe Turner Blues. However, the St. Louis Blues, promoted by Sophie Tucker in 1914, is, perhaps, his best known contribution. The universal appeal of “blues” music was to pattern a destiny all its own. With such works as the Krazzy Kat by Carpenter in 1922 and Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue in 1924, the blues were elevated to a point of sophistication where it became accepted by all classes. The term “blues” is defined as a type of music written in minor key with mel- ancholy words and syncopated rhythm. “Blues” are a distinct result of the Negro spir- itual as evidenced by such common characteristics as the rhythmic effect, syncopation, and the emphasis on the melancholy theme. In reality it is a form of “jazz” or “rag- time”, and when sung the style and personality of the singer commands as much re- spect as the pure composition. “Blues” music has a style original in practically all its phases. The original vocal form included three lines of verse, which definitely presents a more natural and ap- pealing form. In “blues” music the unexpected change in rhythm produced by synco- pation, the use of only a few basic harmonies, and the sadness emphasized by the minor key distingushed this music from any that preceded it. Following the aceeptance of the “blues” as an important link in the chain of mod- ern music, the newer trends toward “jazz” have been developed. But the mighty force which crumbled the walls of musical antiquity was the “blues”, and the spirit of ad- vancing the frontiers in music exists today because years ago the urge to create ex- pressed itself in “blues” music. The Missile page thirty-two Masters of Jazz By Maynard Moore F ROM New Orleans, the cradle of jazz, rose some of our most powerful men of music today. The men who are still in evidence as making their beginning from the early period of jazz are the renown trumpeter, Louis Armstrong, a member of the orig- inal Dixieland Band, comprised of five men, and Tony Sbarbo, a drummer. Another great today whose origin reverts to the days of “King’ Oliver, Buddy Bolden and “Jelly Roll” Morton, is Sidney Bechet, who these days is noted for his soprano saxophone. He started his career playing the clarinet. One of the most outstanding names in jazz known to everyone from the jazz hall to the concert hall is W. C. Handy. Handy is noted as the composer of many of Amer- ica’s outstanding Blues tunes, foremost of which is the St. Louis Blues. Although blind, he is still contributing to present day music. In 1949 he was appearing in New York playing the trumpet and in the latter part of 1953 he was married at the age of eighty-thiee. In the early ’20’s the numerous exodus of jazz men from New Orleans to Chicago became evident. Although jazz was not accepted as music to the majority of people, it was expanding and the move to Chicago and New York helped spread its fame. Needless to say, in its travels it had gathered many disciples who followed the orig- inal pattern of jazz. In Chicago and New York larger bands than the original small Dixieland groups tried incorporating various jazz forms. A few of the successful big bands were Paul Whiteman, Fletcher Henderson, Jimmy Lunceford, Benny Goodman, Duke Ellington, and Lionel Hampton. The larger type orchestras introduced moderated jazz tunes to dance halls. Along with this further expansion of jazz, numerous soloists and side- men highly proficient with this type of music gained national fame. With names too numerous to mention, some of the more outstanding ones are Gene Krupa, Jimmy Mc- Paitland, Pete Daily, the late Bunny Berrigan, and Bix Beiderbecke. In conclusion we find one man weaving a thread of recognition through the travels and expansions of jazz. As popular today as he was yesterday, he is the trum- pet-playing Louis “Satchmo” Armstrong, truly a master of jazz. For Freedom’s NoLle Cause By Richard Cummins O cruel and bloody war that clouds the earth. And fills our times with wretched, dire distress. Extracting from our lives the joyful mirth That once our hearts did formerly possess. For freedom’s noble cause we give our lives. Without the fear that shakes the cowards soul; Through faith in God our courage strong survives. With arms in hand and will to onward roll. The foe’s defeat our motto always be. With glory’s vision firmly in our minds. We onward plod and trudge to liberty. And victory gained, our pathway homeward winds. O men who seek a blissful peace so dear. Why seek ye it through war and hate and fear? The Missile page thirty-three Tke Best of Dixieland By Sherry Rose The advent of Dixieland Jazz brought about many more new and different variations of songs than it did newly written songs. A creative and skilled band could play a song innumerable times without repeating the same style once. These musicians had mastered so thoroughly the ability of improvisation that there was very little need for new songs to be written for Dixieland Jazz orchestration. This was hardly the case concerning blues music, as the basic rhythm and key almost always remained the same, but the expressive lyrics had to portray the particular situation, and it was es- sential that they be effective. There were, however, many excellent songs written for use by Dixieland Bands, although even these contained only an idea of the arrangement to be played. At a re- hearsal, the piano player would usually be the only musician to read the music close- ly, since he had to play the melody, and keep time, along with the drummer and bass player. The other musicians would listen to the tune, and possibly scan the music, and then begin to play together in a style suggested by the arranger. Constant prac- tice developed the best form for that certain song. There are many traditional songs of Dixieland Jazz. “Tiger Rag”, one of the first jazz pieces to be made famous by the “break” or solo, is still a popular jazz tune today. The anthem of the South, “DLxie”, has been played by every Dixieland band in a different manner and it is still demanded by audiences. “South Rampart Street Parade,” “Darktown Strutters’ Ball,” “Georgia Camp Meeting,” and “Carolina In The Morning” are a few lasting favorites, while “Alexander’s Ragtime Band,” “Back Home In Indiana”, “Down By The Ohio”, and “Muskrat Ramble” help round out the list of old timers. Because of the many different emotions which were expressed, the blues music provided a wide range of variety to song writers. The lyrics were very important and there were many men who spent all of their time writing blues music. The most famous of the contributors to blues music, W. C. Handy, wrote most of the blues songs which are remembered today; including the “Saint Louis Blues”, a lovelorn type of blues, “Memphis Blues”, and “Beale Street Blues”. All of these composed from scores of notes taken by Mr. Handy while travelling through the South, listen- ing to and noting the music of many old Negro songs. There is one last subject of question pertaining to Dixieland Jazz which should be enlightened before this section is concluded. This is with reference to the recent debate or discussion on the difference between hot jazz and cool jazz, which is called the “Battle of Jazz”. At numerous jazz concerts there have been requests for samples of both types of jazz. Because of the fact that it was almost a physical impossibility for a band to play an entirely different style than that which they had been accus- tomed to, at later concerts two bands were invited, one to play hot jazz and the other to play the cool jazz style. Actually the hot jazz is the old Chicago Style of Dixie- land, and the cool jazz is an attempt to revise the New Orleans style of jazz. There are many different styles of Dixieland Jazz and there are many famous mu- sicians who have been instrumental in raising Dixieland to the heights it enjoys today. True, there are a few who do not like Dixieland, but it cannot be denied that Dixieland Jazz, through its many contributions to music, has gained a position of esteem through- out the entire world and has set a pace for all modern music to keep astride with. The Missile page thirty-fouT Sweet Youtk By Nell Roper 1 A Memory A babbling brook below the hill. The scene of my childhood play. For hours its magic spell would thrill My heart from day to day. As it gurgles past a moss-covered nook, A violet lifts its head; The fern bends down to touch the brook And hear the words it said. Brook, who sing so bright a song And yet can sing so sadly. Whatever mood you should prolong, I welcome it most gladly. II My First Big Date The phone was ringing in the hall; The house was very still. I answered the phone and heard a voice call, “Hello, my name is Bill.” Oh! what thrilling words to hear. For now my first big date was near. Bill made a date for Friday night To take me to the prom. Oh what a night of pure delight. To be with Bill, not Tom. Gee! now that special dance was near. The most exciting of the year. The night of the ball arrived at last; My pulse shot up quite high. I answered the door and stood aghast. For without a date was I. The note read, “Sorry to break the date. It is the army, and my ill fate.” I Emily Greever The Missile page thirty-seven Making It Tke Hard Way By Nell Roper Let’s have a rummage sale!” That is the familiar war cry of many teen-age clubs today who must have fifty dollars for that all important dance within thirty days. Someone might be original and sug- gest having a bakery sale, but the rum- mage sale wins out every time. One of the main problems of having a sale of this type is the finding of a suitable location. After walking all afternoon in hopes of finding a place for my club to hold its sale, my feet began to ache and blister, but at last I found the perfect spot! Gee! I was lucky. The morning of the sale I climbed out of bed very early and hastened to 347 Halifax Stieet to see if our location was still standing. When mother stopped the car to let me out, I sensed a feeling of uneasiness. Hav- ing looked the place over very carefully, she turned to me and said, “Oh, no, Nell, not this!” “Yes, mother, this is our per- fect spot.” This place was just meant for us with its airy show window, where all the su- perior merchandise was displayed, and the nice, large light that flicked on and off. Another outstanding feature was the hole in the floor just as you stepped into the room, but who cared when it was covered over by a fancy, red mat that read “Welcome”? Now on the south side of our place of business was a smelly “ole” fish market and to the north, a recreation home for boys, and I don’t mean the Y. M. C. A. Yes, it was all that one could ask for, a business right in the center of a thriving metropofis. It was not long before om store was opened for business, and I shall never forget my first customer, a big, fat, col- ored woman about forty-five years old with a tremendous sack under her arm. Yes, as you’ve probably guessed, I was scared stiff. Finally I got up my nerve to ask the woman if I could help her. When I had managed to mumble those few words, she acted as if she hadn’t heard me. She just plowed through the clothes, stacked neatly on the counter, as if she were looking for a mate to an old shoe. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, she held up a little dress and shouted, “How much?” Really, I couldn’t tell you how much I charged that woman if my life depended on it. I was so ter- rified when she blurted out “How much?” that I could have almost given it to her free of charge. After a while I began to relax and I helped her find enough clothing for her entire family. I know that all of the clothes that she bought for her youngsters must have fitted one of them perfectly because her children were arranged just like stair steps. There was a certain pair of shoes that this colored woman wanted, but she didn’t want to pay more than ten cents for them. Well, I just couldn’t sell her those beau- tiful green shoes for a dime, for they were worth every bit of a dollar, and then, too, I couldn’t see myself telling mother that I had sold her shoes for so little. The colored woman left with anger in her eyes and when she had made her exit, I quickly sat down and breathed a sigh of relief. The sale went very well and we finally had fifty dollars stuffed safely away in om pockets along with a little extra; so every- one agreed it would be a good idea to close shop. Quickly we packed all the rummage that we wanted and left. In this way, all the clothing that was left behind was used to advertise the following week’s sale. Later that afternoon I decided to ride by our former place of business on the way home. As I approached the little shop, I saw a very famifiar figure, my first customer. Yes, here was that big, fat, colored woman quickly slipping on her feet the green shoes that she had stealthily obtained by reaching through an opening in the window! The Missile page thirty-eight In Memoriam By Mary Woodrum Jones, ’53 The sun was kind; it was a lovely day. The breeze blew gently, wafting sweet perfume From flowers planted by remembering hands. The trees cast shadows on the close-clipped grass While birds sang sweetly from their sheltering boughs The day I passed the churchyard through and came To Blandford Church. No great cathedral met my wond’ring gaze But just a church grown mellow with the years And very dear with gathered memories. Yet when I crossed its threshold I did feel That I should take the shoes from off my feet So surely did I know the ground I trod Was holy ground. No rector stood to read the word of God, No worshippers sat in the vacant pews. And yet I knew that I was compassed ’round By those who “live in hearts they left behind”. And in whose memory the old church stood. By those brave men who suffered, bled, and died Defending home. Not they alone did keep me company For in memorial windows stood serene The staunch defenders of another cause. Placed there by states of the Confederacy The followers of Christ looked down at me; The sunlight’s glory did an halo make Around their hair. Andrew leaned upon Saint Andrew’s Cross While “Doubting” Thomas held a builder’s square. The keys of Heaven hung from Peter’s hand. Matthew was there and Mark, and Luke, and John. With joy I saw John was Virginia’s choice For John was young, and John was fair, and John Was loved by Christ. The “sword of the spirit” was in the hand of Paul, Bartholomew a flaying knife did hold. An open “Bible” Philip did display While James the founded church did carefully bear: Each symbol so symbolic of the man. Of the life he lived, the work he did, or, best, The death he died. At last I gazed upon the jeweled cross Which shed its glory o’er the open door. I’d been to church, no sermon had I heard. No choir had sung, no voice had prayed aloud And yet this knowledge surely came to me: “Brave men may die. Right has no death,” Truth lives Eternally. Editor’s Note to the poem, In Memoriam, by Mary Woodrum Jones: The above poem written by Mary W. Jones, class of 1953, was used as part of the annual Petersburg Memorial Day Service at the Old Bland- ford Church on June 9, 1953 which was given by Mr. H. Augustus Miller, Jr. The Missile page thirty-nine Surprise Attacle By Bee Roberson T he thunder roared across the sky. Rain came down in sheets. On top of the armory, huddled in a brick building used to house the air spotters when they were on duty, four of us sat around a table play- ing poker. I had just dropped another five and had decided to go out and make sure the anti-aircraft gun was satisfactory. The old one had just recently been replaced by the newest AA gun, the Skysweeper. I put on my mackintosh and stepped outside. A wet, icy blast of wind met me with the force of a slap across the face. I staggered back against the door, gasp- ing for breath. Through the wall of rain I could just make out the Skysweeper’s silhouette over toward the left. I braced myself against the wind and struggled over to the gun. I climbed into the seat and began checking everything in front of me. Satisfied that everything was in perfect order, I began to think about the war. I had been stationed on the carrier Hornet. I operated the front gun turret. I remem- bered the last battle of the Hornet. The Kamikazis trying to make their suicidal attempts to crash their planes into her. On this particular night they were flying about ten feet off the water. This par- ticular one was coming straight at me, and I just kept holding the trigger. About fifty feet from the side of the ship the plane just seemed to disintegrate. I was brought out of my dreaming with a start by a particularly loud clap of thun- der. I walked slowly back to fhe shack. When I got back inside Ed said: “Nice timing. Bill; it’s your deal.” I sat down and picked up the cards. I shuffled them a couple of times and then dealt. I picked up my hand, card by card. I had an ace, king, queen, and jack of hearts. The other card was a three of clubs. Up until now I had not had any luck. As a matter of fact, I had lost fifty dollars. I asked Joe, Ed, and Charlie how many cards they wanted. “I’ll take one,” said Joe. “I suppose I’ll stay with what I’ve got,” said Ed. “I’ll do the same,” remarked Charlie. “Think I’ll take one,” I mumbled. Ed opened the betting with five dollars, Joe met and raised him ten. I met and raised twenty-five. Charlie met and raised still another twenty-five. Ed upped it an- other fin and Joe, in turn, raised another fifteen. I met and called for a show of hands. “I’ve got four aces,” said Joe as he turned over his hand and prepared to rake in the pot. “Hold on there,” I said, “I’ve got a straight flush, king high in hearts. Let me see you top that.” I had just counted my winnings, and found them to be two hundred and eighty- five dollars, when the phone rang. Char- lie reached over and answered it. “Yeah. What! Well, I’ll be . . . Are you sure? Fifty miles out. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir, yourself. That was the filter cen- ter. They said that there is a large for- mation of planes just fifty miles off the coast.” The Missile page forty “Enemy or allied?” “Enemy!” Joe gave a long, low whistle. “Well, guys, this looks like it. I’ll go down and tell the soldiers to help us get the gun emplacements set up,” spoke up Joe. He rushed down the stairs and in a few minutes we could hear him shouting as he went out the side door. I called Charlie and Ed over, and we started down stairs. “Charlie, you and Ed get a couple of fifty-calibers and mount them on the roof. I’ll get the ammunition for them and the Skysweeper.” When I got back up to the roof with the ammo, Ed and Charlie were waiting. “Just got another call from the F. C. Says there are even more planes heading in behind the first group. Says after they cross the Aleutians we are tibe first and last big gun emplacement they’ll hit be- fore they get to the U. S. If we can hold them for half an hour the flyboys from Nome and Seattle can get here.” “We can do it, if we can get enough men for the guns.” Just then Charlie came running back up the stairs with a dozen soldiers behind him. Each had a fifty- cahber. They began setting them up and then they went down to get more ammo. The four of us drew straws to see who got the big baby. I drew the short straw and began hauling ammo over to the gun. The spot lights began going on around the camp and it got as bright as day. I could see the men running around below. I ran back to the shack and turned on the short wave set. I could hear the var- ious squadron leaders talking back and forth over their radios. Suddenly there was a shout: “Bandits! Five o’clock! Let’s go get ’em!” There was the sound of machine guns and diving planes. The radio went silent and I couldn’t get anything else, but I left the radio on. Then above the roar of the storm the ominous sound of approaching aircraft was audible. I rushed to the roof and from the east we could see the ghost- ly shadows of the planes. I sprinted to the AA gun and told Charlie to start ram- ming slips in. I climbed into the seat and turned on the radar. The barrels lifted and switched around to meet the ap- proaching aircraft. When a blip was cen- tered in the screen I would pull the tiig- ger and a plane would go down. The soldiers opened up with their fifties and the tracers formed a criss-cross in the sky. One of the fighters detached itself from the squadron and dived down at us. It just seemed to fall apart as it hit the wall of lead that was rising from the roof. There was a scream from behind us and one of the soldiers slumped over. I told Charlie to take over the big gun and I ran over to see what I could do for the soldier. It was just a flesh wound. I helped him into the shack and bandaged his arm. As I started back out the radio blared out: “Blue Leader. This is Blue Leader. Target M has just been completely ob- literated.” Target M! That was— Moscow! Then over the radio came other reports. Pei- ping, Stalingrad, all destroyed. Outside the fighting seemed to be slackening. Then from the north came the roar of our fly- boys. That ended the battle! The Migs, Yaks, and other Russian planes started back out to sea. They never made it. Charlie, Joe, and Ed walked up to me and the four of us watched the sun come up. The battle had been long, but we had won it. It was the start of a new life and we were lucky and proud to be part of it. The Missile page forty-one Escape By George Kvasnicka I Escape from[, tlie City The asphalt jungle closes in; Hurry, let us run From the city to a place In the brilliant sun. Hasten from the roar of traffic To a quiet hill; From the ever present buildings To a lake, so still. Run away, escape! but still The city holds us tight. For the country sun gives way To city lights at night. II Tke Majesty of tke Sky Oh, moon, the queen of night. Spread your royal robe Of soft and transient light Of such a hue. As a pearl of dew. The sun may rule the day. But night, lovelier, darker. Sends the king away. And a fragile queen Will steal the scene. Then enter, you radiant queen. And say your ladies of couii Will follow her highness soon. In remaining sky Soon stars are high. The court is in its place; Moon, stars, and darkness. Proud with majestic grace. There’s beauty above For lovers and love. The Missile page forty-two Dedication to a Teacker By Joe Watson Crack, goes his hand on the old wooden box. “Quiet,” his voice rings over the class. Rough as a bull and as sly as a fox. He inspired with fear every laddie and lass. “Shakespeare, did you read him on page fifty-five? Tell me his life and youd better know. How did he die? and is he alive? Answer, or out of the window you go. “Chaucer, Spenser, Milton, and Pope. What did they write? and how was their style? Quote me Vallegro, you big, stupid dope. Recite to me quick, or Til knock you a mile.” Patting his head, he tells with a smile The life of an author and the fun he was missing. Making his life a self-made exile Instead of with girls a-huggin and kissing. “Man, pay attention!” he yells at a boy, A poor little feller whom he caught napping. “You must think this English is naught but a toy.” The boy nearly faints from this shouting and snapping. The workings of man are varied and many. The lives of a doctor, a lawyer, and preacher Will reap countless treasure and riches a plenty. But not satisfaction that comes to a teacher. Tke Breeze By Sidney Sutherland Over the barren plains, the mountain tops. The ocean waves; a gentle breeze In beautious rapture softly flees. Till in a quiet hidden valley stops. Quick, calm, and serenely still it hovers. Unknown to any human heart; Then on its journey it must start. And all the neighboring hills it gently covers. A gentle breeze, which no one sees, and yet Had it two eyes, in days or nights, A million unbelievable sights I knew ’t would see yet quickly T would forget. The Missile page forty-three TV or Not TV By David McCants X RE are many people who fondle the belief that television will be the downfall of the movies, but these people, as any- one with only the slightest experience knows, are doomed to be members of that category which preached and prophesied that the Wright brothers would never fly. How any such preposterous idea becomes a product of the brain is incomprehensible unless one is not the owner of a television set. Recently I decided to omit my after- noon coke and rush home to deliver my papers. This I did, besides doing my les- sons before time to eat and rushing through my supper in order to help the repairman adjust om set. The repairman told me he did not need my help, but I was positive he didn’t mean what he was saying. After all, I can always use help when I work on our television. Well, the repairman had left, I had set- tled down in my favorite chair, had prop- ped my feet in front of me, and had lain back prepared to enjoy an evening at home when what should I hear but the ringing of the phone. I tried not to hear it, but I had might as well, for mother did. That was quick. I was proceeding back to my resting place when suddenly there came a tingling as of someone again ringing our telephone. About face! Com- pany marrrch! “Hello . . . Why, how are you, Mrs. Winthrop? . . . Yes, my mother is here . . . No, she didn’t go to the meeting this af- ternoon . . . Why? Well, you see she wasn’t feeling too well . . .No, she didn’t go to the doctor ... Yes, that’s what I told her . . . No, I don’t think she’ll be go- ing out tonight, either . . . Ma’am? . . . Pardon ... Yes, of course, you can speak to her.” Women! No, the next call didn’t follow quite so closely. Nothing like that could happen with the line busy. For some reason my mother and Mrs. Winthrop talked for only twenty minutes, which was just long enough to come to an end three minutes before time for the commercial. These three minutes afforded ample time for Bill to ring our number. By the time we had worked our trig problems, not only had I missed the first half of an hour-long play, but also I had missed seeing the murderer captured on “Dragnet”. Still, I was determined to enjoy an evening of television. The play, though it was half over, seemed to draw my at- tention. In no time at all I had caught up with the story and had fallen madly in love with the beautiful heroine. It was saddening to think that her lover might never return. He had four minutes left in which to do so. Then, at last, the door- bell rang. I knew it must be he. “Well, look who is here”, I heard my mother saying. “I never thought you would make it. Come in. Come in.” That wasn’t the television! Could that have been our doorbell? By this time my mother had ushered into the living room friends of the family. Television was over for tonight. This kind of thing had hap pened too many times before, not to know what was coming. Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop had a TV set. They wouldn’t come over to see ours un- less their’s was broken. What did they come for? Mom had just talked with her a few minutes ago. “Why don’t you cut off that television, Dickie? ” my father was telling me. “No one is watching it.” No, no one is looking at it. Just me. I’m nobody. “Oh, no! Don’t let us interrupt any- thing you were doing. We just dropped in to say hello. Can’t stay but a minute.” Yeah, I bet you just dropped in. Just dropped in because there wasn’t anything on TV you cared to see. The television stayed on, but what good did it do? You couldn’t hear it, and with The Missile page forty-four Mrs. Winthrop admii ' ing a new vase upon the television you couldn’t see anything either. The next show was a quiz show. This kind of show is so much fun. Really, it is just about my favorite. It is so much fun to see how many of the questions you can answer, especially the jackpot ques- tion. For some reason or other beyond my knowledge, the women ceased their chatter while this show was on. Perhaps they wanted to improve their abihties. Up until this time they had seemed to know everything. The important question was asked. The music played. The contestants racked their brains. Everyone sat around say- ing, “Aw, I know I have heard that. I know it as well as my name.” The music stopped. The emcee asked the couple for their answer. At the same moment Mrs. Winthrop blurted out George Washing- ton. Well, what I’m telling you is every word that I heard. The evening droned on. I grasped every word that could be heard above the torrents of laughter and the polite yes and no’s of conversation. At first I wanted to scream. On second thought I didn’t. Next, I decided to ask them to speak in softer tones. This wouldn’t be very po- lite, though. Then it hit me. Why not go over and turn the set up a bit. I couldn’t do that. They would see me for sure. Gee, my mother would never forgive me for anything like that. It was becoming increasingly unbear- able, and in a moment of anger I slipped from my chair and turned the volume dial around and around until the television could be heard above the noises of the room. No one seemed to notice the change. The program came to an end. The commercial flashed onto the screen, and the television blared out louder than ever. I was scared half out of my wits. GHATTER HAD GEASEDl ! ! “Why don’t you turn the TV down?” my mother asked. “Why don’t I turn the TV down?” What was she saying? “Oh, sure. It is a bit loud isn’t it?” No sooner had I turned the volume down and returned to my chair when the incessant noise began once more. This time I was certainly ready to give up. Something, though, caught me by the arm and held me back. “Don’t give up,” it said. I heeded these words of warning and continued to suffer the slings and arrows hurled at me from all directions. When the visitors had left, I returned to my natural, normal, and calm state and clicked on the TV set, which had finally been turned off by my father. Perhaps now I could enjoy this last show even though I had missed most of the others. Maybe, at last, I could sit down and en- joy my favorite star. Station identification was over. Any moment now my favorite star would be on the air. The thought of seeing a good show in the quiet of your home after see- ing several good shows in the noise of your home was indeed a pleasant one. There seemed to be a little trouble. Lines of every nature flashed across the screen. Gommercials are bad enough, I thought, but this is worse. In a moment the trouble cleared, and my program was on. There was a short skit sponsored by the sponsor concerning his product and then. Tonight we once again bring you that fun-packed, thrill- packed entertainment feature, ‘Here’s to You,’ and pinch-hitting for our star, Mr. Howdy Doody, is Rootie Kazootie.” For a moment I had the urge to kill. I was overtaken by a mighty thirst for a coke, my legs ached from rushing with my papers, indigestion attacked me, and I remembered those half-finished lessons. Immediately I resolved to spend every night from then on at the movies. The Missile page forty-five One Against tke Sea By Carol Lavenstein X HERE is a small village on the sea coast of Maine that for many years has attracted artists to its side. People from all over New England come there to purchase paintings, and sometimes they buy them before they have even seen the completed work. You might wonder what attracted these artists to the sea. It was because they too wondered. They wondered what there was about the sea that compelled so many men to it, and they had come to paint their answer. Some would paint the sea’s power. And it is powerful. One has but to look on the shore at the small pieces of driftwood that were once part of great ships built by man, to see proof of the sea’s power. Some would paint the loneliness of the sea. And it is lonely. Nowhere can a man feel so alone and so insignficant as by the sea. For what is one man against such a force? Some would paint the sea’s beauty. And it is beautiful. Beauty that poets, paint- ers, and all kinds of artists have tried to capture for thousands of centuries, be- longs to the sea. This particular season had its usual number of promising young artists, but there was one who stood out from the rest of the group. You could see him sit- ting a good distance apart from his fellow workers, and many a day he would paint from dawn to sunset without a break. In fact, the only other thing he was ever seen doing was walking alone along the beach. After observing a month of such behav- ior, a group of artists went over to where this man sat with his work. Then they saw it. It was no ordinary picture. One didn’t say, “Isn’t that pretty”, and then walk on. You didn’t just glance at this painting, you were forced to stare at it. It recorded more than the power of the sea, more than its beauty, more than the awfulness, more than the solitude. For here, in a style that knew no restraint, was a picture of what truly could have been called the very soul of the sea. This man had accomplished on one canvas what all of the great masterpieces of the sea had failed to do. And then it happened. It would seem impossible, unless o ne was familiar with the suddeness and strength of the winds on this part of the coast. The picture was blown off the easel into the sea before anyone realized what had happened. Oh, they tried to recover it, and even if they had been able to, it would have been only to recover a ruin. The creator of the painting was never seen after that day. No one knew where he had come from, so they could not know where he had gone. Those of a ro- mantic nature suggested that he had thrown himself into the sea. For what is one man against such a force? The Missile page forty-six Conquest By Ann Wheeler Marys a big girl with fat, shining curls. Mary’s the envy of all little girls. Rosy and happy and proud to be seen; One day the charm vanished— for Mary’s thirteen. No longer rosy or happy or proud. One can’t blame the hoys for thinking out loud. “Look at fat Mary!” the cruel boys shout. “Her springs must be broken; she sags all about.” Then one day she decided, “I’ll do it; I’ll try it!” Forthwith, straight-a-way, she went on a diet. She smiles in the glass at her beauty and grace. And zips herself into a size-twelve pink lace. On My Mind, By Joanne Bortz I have seen them at night. The lovely sylphs so fair. By the moon’s silvery light. The misty forms of the air. How they dance, how they dart. At play on the star’s bright beams. As they whirl in my heart. The charming sylphs of my dreams. As the morning draws nigh. Comes the sun with his blessing so gay. They flee to the sky With the dawn of the bright new day. The Missile page forty-seven On tke Trail of tke Birds By Margaret Hunter It was one of the few warm days in Feb- ruary as I walked into the backyard and heard the little gay colored birds chirp- ing from the bird station I had built for them. In each of their chirps it seemed as if they were thanking me for putting food in the bird station each day during the cold snowy months of the winter. When I started feeding the birds, I was unaware of how much enjoyment I would receive and also that it would prove to be a very educational hobby. The bird station was just like a busy automat a few days after I had set it up in the yard. I began to notice the differ- ent colored markings of the birds as they flew in and out of the station like busy people in brilliant costumes. It was at this point that I decided to purchase a book picturing in full color the different types of birds and their hfe history. After read- ing a few chapters of the book I realized that not only bread crumbs, but sunflower seeds, hemp, millet, and canary seed would attract the httle feathered creatures. The most beautiful visitor at the sta- tion was a vivid red Cardinal. There are very few red birds and the Cardinal is the only one with a crest. Its heavy red bill with black around the base is a good field mark. The female Cardinal is light- brown and has the crest and red bill of the male but very httle of its color. I en- joyed watching the Cardinal fly about and pick up bits of bread and seeds in its bill. All too soon it flew out of the station like a red flame across the white snow. Without looking up the name of a very noisy, greedy, but dehcately colored blue, white and black bird, I knew he must be a Blue Jay. This bird could very easily be nicknamed the “robber” because the minute he enters the station he flutters about, leaving very little room for the other birds and greedily filling his bill with seeds. One summer afternoon I noticed two small, pert, brown birds as they perched on the bird station, they eying their fu- tme meal. I could tell that they were wrens by their brownish color and be- cause they were carrying their tails al- most vertically. A gourd seems to be the home which attracts a wren family the most. After cutting a circular hole in the side of the hollow gourd and tying it on a tree limb away from danger, I watched each day to see whether it had been in- habited. Finally a mother and father wren moved in, and it was very interesting to watch the mother wren fly in and out of the gourd to build a nest of string, twigs, leaves, and mud. While the mother was busily working to prepare a good home for her babies, the father perched on a limb and sang to entertain his wife. Dur- ing the summer two families of wrens were raised in the gourd home. Besides being very colorful and fasci- nating to watch, birds have an importance in the world like all other creatures. They are very helpful in controlling insects that plague us. Protection is a very important factor in a bird’s life, because they are so small. They are protected from the weather by feathers that are renewed once or twice a year by moulting and from enemies by coloring of plumage which often matches surroxmdings. The study of bird life has made my leisure time very profitable with enjoy- ment and educational value. Rain By Lou Lesley As I sit here on this gloomy day And see no children out at play, I feel so lost and so forlorn, Rain, rain from early morn Seems tears are hung on every tree Just weeping now and then with me. And even in the flower beds The jonquils now have bowed their heads. No birds singing merry notes; Sorrow even stops their throats. No need to look into the skies. The tears are streaming in my eyes. Birds, flowers, all have lost their glee; Please, rain, do hear our fervent plea; With the weather we cant cope. All that we can do is hope. And pray the sun will shine tomorrow. And we shall be rid of all our sorrow. Victory By Dabney Short I stare in wonder at the tree. Which lifts its head so high. For many years it has stood free Which God’s small creatures all could see Outlined against the sky. This fighter has many battles fought Against the elements. And by all this it has been taught That life is something won, not bought. By vigilant defense. Perhaps a lesson could be spun From this majestic tree: If, before this life is done. With courage victory in won Triumphant we shall be. The Missile page forty-nine Tne Revelation By Russell Early Dave martin awoke completely in tune with the new day. Just as the thick clouds rolled overhead, protesting the approach of another dawn, so did fears and con- fusion cloud Martin’s mind. Perhaps he was asking himself why he should hve the next twenty-four hours for the navy. What did it ever do for him? Then he realized his head had been aching. “Must have been to a party last night”, he muttered. But then Martin didn’t ever go to parties. At least no one asked him any more. Ever since he’d picked that fight with Buck Morrison, no one bothered with him. Just a bunch of sissies, that’s all, he thought, as he rolled back the covers and started to dress. Martin was approaching thirty. He had a muscular build, and, but for the cynical expression, which dominated his face, perhaps he’d even be considered handsome. Martin had joined the navy ten months ago, and he was now in San Francisco. He had orders to report to the Battleship Illinois Monday, November 12. That was today. The year was 1942, and MacArthur was just beginning to strike back in the Pacific. As Martin boarded the Illinois, he glanced up the the gangway and saw Buck Morrison waiting in line just in front of him. “Oh, the devil, that rehgious nut again”, Martin sighed under his breath. Morrison, once had spoken of God, and Martin had hated him ever since. God? Who in hell was that? Only sissies, thought Martin, could swallow that nonsense. When Morrison tried to shake hands with him, he only turned his head and stared emptily into space: “All right, if that’s the way you want it”. Buck fired back, “that’s exactly the way you’ll get it.” For the first time Martin spoke. “That suits me damn well’,, he said and stalked angrily ofiE in the direction of the crew’s quarters. The next morning brought with it fav- orable weather for the Illinois’ saifing. A gentle wind, which had sprung up over- night, was now rolling the water to the strange rhythm of the sea gulls’ cries. The lazy clouds above added the final touch to this picture of tranquil beauty. Thus, the Illinois glided silently westward with a crew of men including one lone atheist. Three days later the first notice of the enemy was taken, when a general alert was posted, and double watches stood guard. Nerves were beginning to play games with almost all the crew; all, that is except one David Martin. At least outwardly he was his old self. But within, the tension of tightening fears gripped his insides. He began to wonder whether or not he had the guts to take this war. Then, as if grasping for some- thing to guide him, he reached back into the past. He had had a home— well, a house anyway— in the slums of Pittsburgh. He might have led a happy life if his par- ents hadn’t died when he was in his early teens. After that, all he remembered was running away, away from people, away The Missile page fifty from unhappy memories. He could have had a girl, but the dread disease of cyn- icism had stopped him. Martin had known too many girls and had marked them all with the same stamp. After trying several jobs which ended unsuccessfully, he had joined the navy but not because of patri- otism. In fact he hated the navy. His only reason was the same which had pat- terned his life. He was again running away. If he had but thought, Dave Mar- tin would have realized that he was noth- ing, living for no reason whatsoever. His hfe was the only true vacuum in the world. Now the watches had changed, and it was his turn to go topside to stand watch. On deck the night air seemed strangely diflFerent. Overhead, clouds passed omi- nously, obscuring the stars from view. The air was perhaps a bit warmer, but the humidity made it stifEing. A steady wind coming in from the southeast was whip- ping tne water into small patches of white foam. A weather report had just been posted, and the Battleship Illinois was approach- ing a low pressure area and would prob- ably meet winds of hurricane force. The crew was alerted, while aheady the ship began to strain through the churning waters. Dave Martin had never been afraid, or so he tried to think, but this time he wasn’t quite so s ure. With nothing to grasp for hope, with nothing to live for, his life had become less than an empty barrel tossing about in the ocean. Armored with these fears, Martin was ill-prepared for the bat- tle between man and sea. The ship was now wallowing rather dangerously in the large sea. A Httle group of sailors, genuinely fearful of the storm, gathered in a supply room just below the first deck. Dave Martin had entered the room but only for safety’s sake, as the decks had become too shppery to gain a foothold. Buck Morrison has just finished praying and was trying earnestly to en- courage the men. Morrison then started for the forecastle to help secure supplies that had been stowed forward. As he carefully picked his way along the deck, a sudden gust of wind lifted up a barrel which started for him. He struggled desperately to evade its path but only fell backward over the rail in his attempt. He disappeared im- mediately into the inky black water. No sounds were heard, and all was as before. The only witness had been Dave Mar- tin. He called frantically to the other crew, but all was in vain. For a few moments Dave stared into the sea. Then, clamping his paws together, he stalked grimly over to one of the air ventilators which lay to the starboard bow. There Martin per- formed what hours ago would have been impossible for him to do. He knelt and prayed. Having done this seldom, per- haps never, he was no doubt clumsy. But not one degree of sincerity was lacking as he discovered himself for the first time in his hfe. Dave Martin had realized the purpose hfe had had for Morrison. He realized that the purpose of the storm had truly been a miracle. He had discovered that people were the instruments of fate, and that God was fate’s Master. He knew that he had just lived a miracle. Adjustment came slowly, for after thirty years of nothing, it wasn’t easy to fill the space. Nevertheless, the story of Dave Martin was now a legend. He had many friends and became a pihar of strength among the crew members. David Martin was now a man. The Missile page fifty-one Via Dolorosa I Release From Fear By Alfred Knight The darkness comes and covers me. I see and hear what isnt there. The formless shadows, muffled whispers. The half -heard tread upon the stairs. I turn a switch— gone is the gloom As blessed brilliance floods the room. A nightmare holds me in its grip. I live— fear— suffer there. I topple from a frightful cliff. A monster drags me to his lair. But midst these horrors beyond belief, I wake and cry out with relief. Then Death, the king of fear, will come And commit me to his mystic care. Til sink within his darkest realm. As my burning lungs scream out for air. I pray therell be a light switch then. And God will let me wake again. II Noctuma Pericula By William Grossmann The sun is gone, now comes the shade. All are at home preparing for night. The lights go on and fires are made. While vanished from earth is all sunlight. The dark fills places where sun beams played. A chilled air sweeps through all the trees. While fence and bush seem to creep and lurk. The men like figures moved by the breeze Dance like witches hard at work; At the sight of which your blood does freeze. A spider web on your head twirls round. And gives you a feeling of being caught. Right now you are scared and jump at each sound. Tomorrow we’ll see the dangers we fought. But when we’re there, they cannot be found. The Missile page jifty-two Call to Play By Dorothy Anderson Let us climb the rolling hill, Let us the far view seek to see. Let us the happy hours fill. Let us gay arid happy be. Come, my friends, one and all. Hasten to the old pine tree. Try to wade through grasses tall, Come and play awhile with me. Although you may be known to fame. This advice I give you truly, “Whatever be your famous name. Take the time for pleasure duly.” Tkis Modem Music By Walter Crutchfield Piano strikes a refrain above the bass; A trumpet blends in slowly, takes the fore. And ends on notes so shrill; and then with grace Piano dies. The sax begins to soar. At first alone but then the ivries sound Again, while brasses moan their woe in back. A fight between trombone and trumpet is found. The sax with piano the whip of strife does crack ’Gainst bass and drums that try to keep the beat. Once more the trumpet blares; but then with charm And measure they all explode! When gone is the heat Piano soothes you from your great alarm. So Stan the Man of Kenton music fame Another laurel adds to his fabulous name. The Missile page fifty-three Meditations to St. Cecilia By John Willis Please do not let it be said that I am not a lover of music, but rather let it be known that I have sympathy for the aver- age American who, through a series of complicated acts of fate, finds himself knee-deep in a concert of classical music. Take, for instance, the average citizen who comes home from an exhausting day at the office, with plans for a quiet eve- ning at home in his favorite rocker, look- ing at television, and dozing when no one is looking. His vista is ended with a gen- tle but decisive conclusion when he comes home to the little lady, who sweetly asks him— in a way that only a woman can speak— if he “wouldn’t like to take in a special club meeting” with her. Now, this sounds like a very genial proposition, harmless in its entirety, but as any man knows, the answer is a foregone con- clusion. You finally set your masculine jaw and stomp down your foot, that most assured- ly you will not leave the house tonight, but on the way to the meeting you get reconciled to the fact. This is the monthly meeting of the Society for the Preserva- tion of Xulip-Tree Cultivation in Amer- ica. This is to be a program of special entertainment, and therefore the business session has been restricted to not more than tliree hours. However, tlie visitors (husbands of the members) are spared a grueling session, for the women, in their typical efficient fashion, have discovered how rapidly business can be moved off the floor by simply referring it to a commit- tee, or if necessary, creating a committee. So after a brief business session, which to the men doesn’t seem at least more than two hours, the special program begins. And it is not until this entertainment has commenced that you reahze that potential charm of “Dragnet”. The entertainment is to be by a mem- ber of the program committee of the club, who, according to the programme, is a soprano. (Perhaps that is the technical phraseology of it, but you could think of some more appropriate and descriptive words for it.) Her accompanist (musi- cians term for confederate) is to be an- other woman, a pianist (using the term loosely, which, by the way, is the way this particular person plays ) . The soloist has a broad musical background, the in- troductory speaker notes ( and this is true. In fact, her background is so broad, she practically hides the concert grand piano. ) She opens her concert with a dramatically moving composition by Sullivan— so mov- ing in fact, that it carries you straight to the exit. The number is “The Lost Chord” and our would-be prima donna is still “searching it vainly” as you close the door on another chapter of what promises to be an unpleasant memory, dragging a very indignant little spouse behind you. The Missile page fifty- four Nature’s Pace By Pret Roper The whistling wind sweeps o ' er the rolling plain. While the clouds sail through a sky of misty blue. A gathered host to spread the earth with rain Or part and leave the morning fresh with dew. While birds of the night are searching for their prey. The young and the old are wrapped up in their dreams. In hopes that they may see the light of day. When the sun comes up and stretches forth its beams. Life awakes to see the morning sun. Whose beams spread o ' er the ridges of the valley. It tells the world a new day has begun. To give new strength once more to start life ' s rally. Wkere Do You Wander? By Ann Wheeler Where do you wander, O wind? I wander far, my child. I wander away to far Ceylon, I travel the jungles wild. Over moonlit seas go I, Over the mountains and plains. I travel the meadows and valleys all. And stroll in the shaded lanes. Take me with you, O wind! Let me walk by your side for a while. And see all the wonders you tell about. That brighten a little child ' s smile. The Missile page fifty-jive America, Land of Dreams By Ira Andrews Felix valero walked down the streets of Venice watching the tourists on ex- cursions in the little canal boats. They seemed to be enjoying themselves im- mensely amid the quaintness and quiet- ness of Venice. There were a few Italians casually strolling up and down the streets; no one seemed to be in any particular hurry. In his mind Felix tried to determine the nationality of some of the tourists he saw. There were some French, English, Scandinavians, a few Spaniards and the Americans, who held the interest of Felix. Felix Valero was a widower of about forty-one years of age. He was not a large person, about five feet nine inches tall, and he weighed about one hundred and sixty-five pounds. His face was wrinkled as a result of a hard survival, since he lost his wife and his son went to America with the army. He had kindly eyes and rather large nose. He had bright teeth. Felix’s hands were beautiful hands, as a man’s hands go; they indicated somewhat Felix’s occupation, weaving. However, he was a rather suspecting person because someone had stolen a hundred dollars from his fa- ther when Felix was a little boy. He had dreamed of going to America since his son had gone over and settled in New York after being discharged from the army. However, this dream had never come true because Felix was poor. True, he was a weaver, and a good one, but how could a common, every day Italian weaver find enough money in that occupation to pay the passage fee to go to America? Felix found a way, though. He had found a prospective means of transportation to American on a freighter. They said it would cost $250.00 and he would have to help the cook also, to help cover the pas- sage fare. The captain of the ship, the S. S. Venus, had told Fehx he could bring only two pieces of luggage. Fehx thought that this was his chance to spend as little as possible for passage to America. He had saved $400.00 over a period of fifteen years. When Felix came to his decision, he stepped up his pace and headed for the waterfront. The day was clear and hot, but on the waterfront a gentle breeze whipped the blue-green ocean water into foaming white-caps. Overhead, sea gulls glided serenely, constantly searching for some small fish or other small morsel to pounce on and devour. Felix turned in a door- way and tapped on the door marked No. 2 in a shabby, two-story building with cracked walls and the doors flailing loose- ly on their hinges. “Come in,” a voice answered. Fehx walked in, expecting to appear before a very hard, cruel old sea-dog. In- stead, he saw an old, white-haired man whom Fehx knew at a glance was an old seafarer. “What can ! do for you?” the old man began in good English. “Well, Im’a da man youse a talk to about agoin’ to America.” “Oh, you the fellow, eh?” The Missile page fifty-six “Dat’sa right.” “O. K. then; you said you have the $250.00 passage fee and a willingness to help the cook, right?” “Isa right.” “Good, be here at Pier Ten tomorrow morning at seven o’clock. We sail exactly then.” Felix Valero felt a surge of joy enter his whole body as he walked briskly past the quaint homes and shops to his little cubby- hole shack. First of all, Felix packed all of his clothes, then he packed his weav- ing designs and material. Now he thought he was all set. Oh! He thought of the most important thing in his life just now. He went to his chest, opened it and withdrew a leather pouch. He reached in. His hand grasped some paper. Quickly, he drew his hand out. His money? No! His money was gone! Only pieces of paper yellowish in color remained. It was one o’clock now. He had but thirty hours to recover his four hundred dollars before the ship left. He was baffled. He thought he had put the money in the chest; evidently he hadn’t. He began to search wildly. He literally tore the house apart. He turned his bunk upside down, looked in the covers, mat- tress and springs. No money. He ripped out all the loose boards, mostly in anger. He tore the dresser apart and shoved the little wood stove aside. He covered every inch of his small dwelling. No money and three hours gone. Unfruitful as the search at home was, Felix still continued his search. Then his mind Hghtened. He would retrace his steps of that morning. He walked and walked. He looked in this doorway, in this alley, in this hole and everywhere he looked but still no money. Then he came to the build- ing he had visited that morning. He turn- ed the knob on door No. 2; it was locked. Dejectedly Felix turned toward home. He had lost the key to a new life. He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked head-down toward home. Then he thought he felt something soft. His fingers closed around the object and he slowly withdrew it from his pocket. The leather pouch! He pulled the strings and looked inside. There he saw the $400.00 neatly folded. Felix pinched himself; then, assured of the reality, he broke into a rapid walk or trot and began to whistle in a merry fashion. He was still in the game after all. Felix got up the next morning at day- break. Being a pretty religious sort of fellow, he felt it was necessary to ask for- giveness from the Lord for having been so negligent in the past. Felix thought that because he was going to America with money he had earned that he didn’t need any assistance. How wrong the poor fel- low was. So, in order to tell the Lord about it, he went down to the waterfront, at a remote part of the beach, and he be- gan to talk and meditate with the Lord. He prayed a simple prayer; in view of the sun peeping over the horizon, Felix pray- ed: “Lord, a’now I know dat Iv’a done a bad t’ing. Lord, you’lla have to know a dat I’ma sorry. I’ve a been so conceit Lord, leaving You out of de most important hap- pen’ in my life. Please Lord, forgive-a me and-a uide me in any thing I try a to a do. Amen. Just then, the sun’s long rays reached over and seemed to kiss the blue waves; the clouds seemed to scatter, re- vealing a soft blue sky. Far out on the ocean Felix saw the tops of masts belong- ing to two or three sailing vessels. The sea gulls had awakened and were begin- ning to flap their wings and turn their heads downward looking for breakfast. Felix, realizing the time, picked up his bags and headed down the beach toward Pier 10. He stopped in a few minutes and felt in his pocket over his heart. Yes, the money was still there. At seven o’clock Felix said, “Good moma to you. Mister Captain.” The same old white-haired man in the office the preceding day said to Felix, “Morning, mate.” “Nice weather for sailing,” remarked FeHx. “Sure is good sailing weather.” “How long ita take a to get to America?” The Missile page fifty-seven The sea captain replied, “Oh, ’bout fourteen days or so, beings as we don’t meet bad weather.” “Dotsa verry goot. When ve go?” The whistle of the freighter let loose with two ear-sphtting bellows. “Right now we shove off, matey,” said the captain, although he didn’t need to answer the question because Felix was half way up the gangplank. The cook met Felix at the deck and showed him to his quarters, then told Felix to report for kitchen duty in four hours. Thus started a fourteen-day routine for Felix. He helped the cook for the entire voyage. Often during the voyage Felix thought about how he would be treated in America. He wondered especially about how he would adjust himself to the new surroundings. His son and his family, new people, new city and even new food. Finally, exactly fourteen days after shoving off from Pier 10 in Venice, Felix was called to the deck by his friend the cook, who was himself an Italian. “Look at dat sunset, Fehx.” “It’s a most beautiful. Cookie, no?” The two Italians were watching the exquisite blend of orange, purple, red, blue and yellow hues of the sunset when the old captain tapped Felix on the shoulder. “Look over there, Felix.” Felix looked; the Statue of Liberty. His mouth fell open and a tear rolled down his cheek. He could not beheve that it was really Felix Valero standing on the deck of an incoming vessel, viewing a gor- geous sunset of all colors with the Statue of Liberty lifting her torch high, with sea- gulls ghding to and fro. What a sight; Fehx was truly grateful to God that night as he watched the sun kiss the earth good night and fold the blackness of night like a blanket studded with glittering jewels over the earth. The next day Felix was put through the Immigration Bureau procedure with lit- tle trouble because Tony, Felix’s son, was on hand. As Felix came into the New York street, on which the Bureau was lo- cated, Tony met his father. “Papa!” cried Tony. “Tony, my son! How happy Tma am to see you!” “It’s been very long, papa, since I saw you.” “It’sa not been halfa long to you as ato me, Tony; Tony, is it all true, no dream?” Tony assured old Felix that it was true and the two went to Tony’s home on 33rd street. There Tony took his father to meet his wife, Alice. The three were very talk- ative at dinner that night. It vas mostly Felix, however, who did the talking. The next day, Tony took Felix down town to a httle shop which he had bought, complete with weaving machinery for his father. This topped it all off. Felix had everything he desired. Best of all, he was in America, land of dreams. The Missile ■page fifty-eight Peace Ly tlie Sea By Henry McGill The greatest peace that I have found Is right by the sea, the mighty sea; Soft breaking waves the only sound In a vast great space that humbles me. I dream of adventure far and wide And long to travel the outward tide. I gaze into the massive sky And then across the restless sea; I gaze and wonder how and why This, our universe, came to be. And meditate this thought I fin d That God did this beyond my mind. Love, hate, fear, joy These I reveal as I stand on the shore; Each wave will take a thought as a toy To sea, to the deep, to live no more. I find my peace by the mighty sea Where my love and fear erupt from me. e Season By Beverley Rosenbaum Each season is a new born child In its own clever way, A gift upon which God has smiled. Growing from day to day. As winter changes into spring. So this child begins to grow. Birds on the wing begin to sing. Babbling brooks begin to flow. The seasons always wither and die; So does every living thing. Do we understand just why, God takes away the spring? The Missile page fifty-nine To Be A Twin By Pret Roper HEN the title, “To Be A Twin,” pop- ped into my mind as a subject on which to write an essay, it immediately reminded me of a new popular musical hit, “To Be Alone.” Upon comparing the two, I no- ticed the decided difference in the phrases. Certainly, the last thing one might say is that a twin is alone in this world. On occasions, I am sure it would be thor- oughly dehghtful. That’s one point in their favor. They always have each other. Most people never notice twins, unless they are dressed alike, or are identical in appearance. Dressing twins alike cer- tainly presents a problem to the unfor- tunate mother. When they are young, the situation isn’t quite so comphcated, as some adoring relative usually makes dup- hcate outfits for the dear cherubs. When they reach the age of thirteen or fourteen, especially if they happen to be girls, ( and heaven forbid for the sake of father’s bank roll) the trouble begins. Like an explosion from a double-barrel shotgun, their opin- ions as to what the well dressed teenager should wear have suddenly developed. No more does mother have to put on that worried expression over the fact that two like dresses cannot be made in the proper sizes. Of course, the clerk is always more than delighted to order a matching dress in the correct size, but to no avail. By the time the dress arrives two weeks later, the lucky twin has made an appearance in her’s several times. This certainly takes the shine off sister’s first appearance. Can you imagine anything more monotonous than having to wear an outfit exactly like your sister’s? This, of course, is the view- point of twins. Grandmother still insists that we are more appealing to the general public when dressed like pennies. There is no truer saying than, “One must take all the bad with the good.” Don’t think that there aren’t advantages in be- ing a twin. From a philosophical stand- point, you learn to share at an early age. I won’t attempt to number the licks that are traded before this realization comes about. It isn’t always easy, even then. When the fun begins, there’s always twice as much to be had. Have you ever tried to pose as another person over the telephone. If you are a twin you’ve prob- ably picked up the inflections of your sis- ter’s voice, and can have a devilish lot of fun. Sometimes it’s rather risky, as one shp may give you away. I can’t say that it is commendable or highly recommend- ed, but I will says that it can prove tre- mendously interesting. Parents aren’t the only vict ims of twins. School teachers also receive their share of bewilderment and confusion. It’s a shame that one way of calling the daily roll is by rows, as the teacher can always look in his little black book and find the correct name. No chance of answering for yourseff and your twin. Should anyone ask you if you’d like to be a twin, a sensible reply would be yes, and no. Having had a counterpart for al- most eighteen years, the best definition I can give for the word twin is, “Double trouble!” The Missile page sixty My Kind of Life By Oliver Rudy To sit beneath the knotted oak Out there among the trees. To feel the rain upon my face. To feel the sun, the breeze. To hear the warbling of the birds Like piccolos and fife. To talk to God through nature’s charms— That’s my kind of life. To walk along the river bank. To swim that same swift stream. To make a pillow out of moss. Lay back my head and dream Of days when I would roam the woods And live by just my knife. And watch the moon, the stars at night— That’s my kind of life. To love the wondrous works of God, To know his matchless grace. To feel the heat upon my back The rain against my face. To live by God’s great guiding plan And shun all grief and strife. And praise my Lord’s great handiwork— Yes, that’s my kind of life. Treasure Hunt By Skippy Richards To Treasure Island I would like to sail. That magic land so far across the sea. To find a fortune fine and just for me. I’d travel far and leave a well marked trail On mountain peak, and sands, and pleasant vale. And all those places I have longed to be; I’d see rare plants and some exotic tree Against a tropic sky in moonlight pale. Now some may go and look for only gold; Adventure may call others to the ide; Though I’d like both, if I may be so bold. I’d gain my fortune sailing mile by mile Through foaming seas to places new and old For memories and an oft repeated smile. The Missile page sixty-one Leisure Time By Nancy Wamsly Leisure time, what’s that? If it’s what I think it is, it’s something that I have very little of. My idea of leisure time is free time that I can call my own, without worrying about homework, tests, losing weight, or any of the other little worries that daily occupy my thoughts. It seems to me that I either have leisure time that I don’t know about or else I just loaf it away. That’s the one thing in life that I’m pretty good at, loafing, but we’re on the subject of leisure time now, so I’ll try to keep to that. There are times, not too often though, when all these httle worries of mine get thrown overboard. I’m able to do this by simply saying, “To heck with it all.” Then I follow these steps: (1) get ready for bed; (2) crawl into bed; (3) cut the light out; and (4) go to sleep. That is not all I meant to say just then, but it looks as if sleep slipped in. Sleep- ing is the thing in fife that I’m second best qualified for. Well, now to get back to step ( 1 ) and leisure time. After I’m ready for bed, I get a little key, open my doll cabinet and, from the bottom shelf, make a selection as to which package of letters to take. There are about five different packages, each tied with a different colored ribbon and each containing about forty letters. Then, step (2), I crawl into bed and start reading my old love letters. I guess that’s as good a name as any for them, because one or two of them still fascinate me. The httle key was mentioned because I have a grandmother who has a very bad habit of reading other people’s mail, es- pecially mine. Previously I kept them in my desk, until I got wind that she was then making a selection each day in her leisure time as I do now. Why, I’ll bet she waited for that letter each day as much as I did! One day I left a mean httle note think- ing that would cure her, but it didn’t faze her one bit, so I had to resort to the lock and key. Now to get on with the reading of the letters. At first when I didn’t know the boy very well. I’d read each letter over many times, never noticing the misspelled words, the incorrect punctuation, sentenc- ing and paragraphing. I simply swallowed each word. But now when I read the let- ters, it is more for enjoyment than for any other reason. I know it’s unfair, but Joyce has as much fun reading them as I do, so sometimes when we both have leisure time we read them together. These letters were and still are very en- fightening for me, but there were some mighty stupid things said also. This is what entertains me most. I forget from time to time the things that are said in these letters, but there is one thing that continually pops up in my mind. Just about every other letter con- tained the word “chance” and not once was it spelled correctly. The boy neither stuttered nor lisped, but always he wrote chance as chanch . Well, this leisure time is getting much too strenuous so I’ll step (3), cut the fight out and, step (4) go to sleep. The Missile page sixty-two Tke Ageless Vendor By SroNEY Sutherland Now autumn is an ageless vendor who Will come, as days grow short and cold. To sell to nature wares so hold. Of gold and flaming red against the blue. His tired breath he breathes for all to know The chilly feelings as we talk. As through freshly painted woods we stalk. With new born hopes of fresh November snow. But then, at last, the weary autumns gone; On slow and tired feet he goes. He’d take his wares to lands he knows Will greet him ’til another season’s born. By Oliver Rudy We leave thee now, oh aged halls. But in our hearts we still hold dear Each memory and each swift fled year We lived within thy walls. We must depart, old faithful friend. But know that we shall ne’er forget Our victories won, friendships so set That time can’t break or bend. We move on now, thou palace grand. We know sometimes we could not see Why some things were and had to be. But now we understand. We’re going now; yet with one cry We leave this promise now with thee. That you’ll be proud; just wait and see. But now, old friend, good-bye. The Missile page sixty-three Wky Salesgirls Get Grey By Beverley Rosenbaum Hveryone’s heard the saying, “The cus- tomer’s always right,” but have you ever put yourself in the place of the sales per- son waiting on you? If you have, you can readily see that there is hardly an ounce of truth to that saying. Working in a military store, I have run across all types, shapes, and forms of cus- tomers; some of whom I should like to describe. First we have Private Smith, who prices everything in the store, including paper bags. By the time you have followed this “inquisitive Joe” from one end of the store to the other, wondering which one of the items he will buy, you’re ready to call it a day. But no! Private Smith isn’t quite finished with you yet. “Uh, Miss, would you mind taking that dresser set out of the window so I can get a better look at it?” “Of course not, sir. I’ll be glad to get it out for you.” After fighting down “the urge to kill”, you climb into the window and proceed to get the dresser set. Of course it’s over in the extreme corner of the window, and in order to get it, you must reach over two rows of jewelry. But do you mind? Of course not! Anything for a customer! “Here you are, sir.” “How much is it, m’am?” “Well, it’s been reduced from twenty- five to fifteen dollars. That’s tax included.” “Oh, well, I just wanted to see it. I guess I’ll have to wait till pay-day.” And with that, Private Smith leaves. Perhaps one of the most annoying cus- tomers there is, is the one who asks to try on everything he prices. This custom- er is also the shy type, and locks himself in the washroom when trying on a shirt. Then too, there’s the soldier who is just getting out of basic training. He’s buying an overseas cap. Is he satisfied with the plain beige braided cap? No! He’s got to have purple to match his eyes. ‘ ' have y’all got any luggage. ' To top oflp a most nerve-racking day, in walks the tall Texan. He stops in front of the luggage and stares at it for a few min- utes. Then, in his slow Texan drawl, he asks, “Have y’all got any luggage?” £3 ' ■ .M « i +l ' _ •= •. . ' ;Vl ttifcy ' -y£ ' ' I •’ ' ' ' � .Jf-- ' I 1- •_ _ j. ' i ' i, i. I ,-.� i. ' ' i� r ' ! i _. ' .:� n. ?1 ' ■ .t ' klrclB 1 .. ' ' -V’ ' . ' ' ■■a? - ■ ' ’Vt-! ' . ;i ' j ' ■ ' • Ijj , v ' ' , . -■{ ' ■’. fl ‘ .’ : ' ' ' ' : ' 5 ' . ■..■ loBa .( ,1- ' ■ - . ¥4 .1f‘? 5j ' ! 1 r ( ' f ' ■ fi : .1 ' i!n?4, ;■ i iijr er’ tr - - V ra f‘ ■ ' ■ ? 4 f || ' S ■ tV{ ' i f?|)� .-} •? ■ , .’ V-- - r ' • ' ll ,,■ ' - . ' ■•ir. ' ;M-T« ..jri ' iir. ' ■ ' ■■■ ' !. ' • = -‘V kl- ' - ' i ' ' ' J . ' ' «iT I ' ' •tt ' , • ■ i ' — ' ■’ ' ! ' ' di ■■ ?■ .j v;y H ' � f •■I .. ■:. i� VJ ■ ' •■ ■ . ' | ■ ' ■.«,V 5 fi .. - :■’ ■• s-iJij=;, •«a ' ' ' i 4 ii,..iSi « ' ■■ ; ««:-;i 4 ? ! ' - ■-(T ■ ' •’ ' i, -- ' ' 3)4 . tft( AJiwrtt0mpnt0 Your pay starts from the first day at the telephone company — even while you’re learning your new job! That’s one reason so many young girls choose a tele- phone job when they finish school. They don’t need experi- ence to get this good job — and they’re paid while they learn a skill that’ll always be useful. Find out more about the variety of telephone jobs from your high school counselor — or come in and see us when you finish school. The Chesapeake Potomac Telephone Company of Virginia 18 3 0 19 5 4 IRaninlpIf-ilarim (Inllpgf 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 Col- leges and Secondary Schools, of the Association of American Colleges, and of the Southern University Conference. On the approved 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 inforrruition may be secured from DEAN WILLIAM ALEXANDER MABRY Director of Admissions Ashland, Virginia S udl,Aute VeiDIfIG ICNi CO., Inc. Automatic Phonographs, Scales and Amusements Phonographs rented for private parties USED RECORDS - Very Cheap 45 78 RPM 308 N. Sycamore St. Phone RE 3-8420 Petersburg, Virginia CongreUidations Petersburg High School Graduates We wish you success in all of your future undertakings DEPOSITS INSURED UP TO $10,000.00 2% INTEREST PAID ON SAVINGS THE CITIZENS NATIONAL BANK Petersburg, Virginia Member Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation Compliments of GREENLEAF DAIRY, Inc. FARM FRESH DAIRY PRODUCTS PHONE RE 2-8917 Compliments of JOHNSON CO. FUEL OILS Parham’s Texaco Service 1901 Sycamore St. PETERSBURG. VIRGINIA Gas — Oil — Wash — Polish — Lub. Compliments of Virginia Lens Company PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA Compliments R. L. Arnold Pen Co., Inc. REMMIE L. ARNOLD, Pres. Ask for Arnold Pens PETERSBURG’S PRESCRIPTION PHARMACY The most important thing in this store is something you never see. What is it? Ifs 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. COMPANY tPharmoc “Serving Southside Virginia For Over 90 Years” 130 SOUTH AVENUE RE 2-4312 DRINK riADI.MAXK RIO. V. I. RAT. ORR. IN BOTTLES Petersburg Coca-Cola Bottling Works, Inc. 1417 West Washington Street Petersburg, Virginia BLACKWELL SMITH DRUG COMPANY Prescription Specialists’ Corner Washington and South Streets Telephone RE 3-4242 Petersburg, — Virginia Compare PET With Any Other Ice Cream I PET ICECREAM Taste The Fresh Cream in PET Ice Cream Southside Virginians Most Complete Department Store 132 N. SYCAMORE ST. PHONE RE 2-8111 The best way to keep up with all school activities, and news . . is by reading . . . The School Weekly News Published for the Students of P. H. S. in THE PROGRESS-INDEX “Southside Virginias Daily Newspaper” “-4 Satisfied Family Is a Hecdthy Family” Stay Satisfied with CHEF’S JOY FANCY CANNED FOODS ROPER COMPANY, INC. - Distributors PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA THE HARLOW-HARDY CO., INC. Dealers in Furniture ' ‘Everything for the Home” 17 - 19 W. Washington Street Dial RE 3-4444 HEARTY GOOD WISHES FOR SUCCESS! FROM “THE BANK WITH THE CHIME CLOCK” Member Federal Deposit Insurance Corp. ENGINEERING -A CAREER FOR YOU! A boy or girl who prepares for a career in engineering will always be in demand to do useful, inter- esting, highly paid work. Ask your teacher, your high school princi- pal, about the essential courses in mathematics and science. A mar- ketab le abihty is the only true se- curity. Virginia Electric and Power Company FLOWER MART Molly’s Beauty Shoppe Telegraph Service GOMPLETE BEAUTY SERVIGES 27 S. Sycamore St. Phone RE 3-4028 and LUZIED’S FAGIALS PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA 124 N. Sycamore St. Phone RE 3-3502 Gompliments of R. S. TERRIE CO. CAVALIER BUICK, Inc. INSURANGE 9 W. Tabb St. RE 2-7517 •« Petersbmg, Virginia 109 N. Market St. John H. Gato, Jr. Wm. W. Gato Manager Asst. Manager Compliments of BROWN WILLIAMSON TOBACCO CORPORATION PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA 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 HOT MEALS $ .85 UP PHONE RE 3-6919 3631 Boulevard Colonial Heights, Va. HERFF-JONES COMPANY Manufacturers of Petersburg High School Class Rings Furnished through Mark E. Holt, Jeweler Virginia Representative JAMES L. DECK 300 E. Main Street Richmond, Virginia MARK E. HOLT Optometrist and Jeweler Petersbui ' g, Virginia One of Petersburg’s Optometrists Since 1915 Iniafrattg 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 Graduate 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 Jime 14; Winter Session September 13, 1954 George M. Modlin, President FLOWERS SCATTER SUN SHIN E- Downtown OflFice— 32 E. Washington Street Flowerphone RE 2-6111 Compliments of POOLE’S ELLERSLIE DAIRY, Inc. “Your Choice for over Quarter Century” PHONE RE 2-7342 413 PORTERVILLE STREET VENT ' S Furniture (Company INCORPORATED “Dependable Furniture Since 1897” PHONE RE 2-8821 Petersburg Virginia GET THE BEST, GET SMITH’S Cigar Store STATIONERY AND PHOTOGRAPHIG SUPPLIES- S ' Open Evenings Till 9 P. M. 15 North Sycamore Street Petersburg, Virginia For the best in Prescriptions and Drugs . . . ROSE’S RexaU Drugs Telephone RE 2-3535 PROMPT DELIVERY Sycamore and Washington Sts. Petersburg, Va. STER CHEVROLET SALES, Inc. yCHE VROlET j Chevrolet — Cadillac HARRIS ■ BRENAMAN Incorporated •ATHLETIC SUPPLIES •SPORTING GOODS 2-4797 — DIAL — 2-4796 717 East Grace Street RICHMOND 19, VIRGINIA Compliments of Swift Creek Farms Restaurant and Motor Court COLONIAL HEIGHTS, VA. Ruth and Paul Klinger — owners “Quality made us Famous” Compliments of PETERSBURG- HOPEWELL BUS LINES Compliments of THE BANK OF COLONIAL HEIGHTS THE COMMUNITY BANK 123 Pickwick Avenue Colonial Heights, Va. Member Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation RUCKER’S, INC. 2017 South Sycamore Street Telephone RE 2-7321 Petersburg’s Most Distinctive Furniture Store SPECIALIZING IN INTERIORS KITCHEN’S STUDIO Qtmlity Portraits Fine Baby Pictures Commercial Photographs Specializing in Glamour Portraits Phone RE 2-5161 121-A N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Virginia FEAZEL AND SWEARINGEN, Inc. Fire and Automobile Insurance — Real Estate PHONE: REgent 3-6986 104 Pickwick Avenue Colonial Heights, Va. Comphments of NORTHROP’S SPORTING GOODS NORFOLK, VIRGINIA Radio Station w s s 1240 ON YOUR DIAL Phone RE 2-5618 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 RE 3-4531 Nash Williams Nash Sales and Service Phone RE 2-3071 257-263 E. Bank St. Petersburg, Virginia “You’ll Be Ahead With Nash” Powell-Cole Stationery Co., Inc. Engraving Wedding Invitations and Announcements Visiting Cards Books and Stationery 11 NORTH SYCAMORE ST. Phone RE 3-6571 Petersburg, Va. MOLLOCK’S Compliments of “Better Men’s Wear” Fine Arts School of PHONE RE 2-3041 Petersburg 139 N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. Lou Moore Musgrove — Instructor Leon J. Boisseau Compliments of GENERAL CONTRACTOR Scoggin Appliance Co. RE 2-3666 1001 Hamilton Avenue COLONIAL HEIGHTS, VA. Inc. FRIGIDAIRE APPLIANCES 24 South Sycamore Street PHONE RE 3-4652 AUTO SERVICE FOR ALL MAKES Petersburg Motor Co. Since 1924 Gray’s Pharmacy (Downtown Prices with Neighborhood Service ) PHONE RE 3-7711 WE DELIVER RCA General Electric T elevision Appliances Compliments of Southside Appliance Co. Inc. 15 E. Washington St. Phone RE 3-4812 BLUMENTHAL’ S Soda — Cigars — Cigarettes NEWSPAPERS AND MAGAZINES Novelties Phone RE 2-6541 lOH N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. PIANOS — New and Used CONN and BUESCHER BAND INSTRUMENTS WURLITZER ORGANS Bristow’s Music Co. 14 Franklin Street L. W. T. Bulifant, Inc. Insurance of All Types INSURANCE CENTER 38 Franklin St. Medical Arts Bldg. BANQUET ROOM AVAILABLE FOR PRIVATE PARTIES Whitmore’s Restaurant “Best Food in Town” Telephone REgent 2-8941 29 S. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. Compliments of Sylvia Hat Shop Winfield Aldridge Insurance Agency Telephone RE 3-9831 Complete Insurance Service 25 Wythe Street Petersburg, Va. The Monument Mobilgas Station Henry Bmgstock, Prop. S. Sycamore St. and Crater Road Phones: RE 2-3961 and RE 2-9831 Cars called for and delivered SEALTEST ICE CREAM DULANY FROZEN FOODS Shorty’s Home Delivery Phone RE 3-7171 Standard- James, Inc. “For Better Shoes 124 NORTH SYCAMORE STREET The FASHION Ladies ' Wearing Apparel Coats, Suits, Dresses, Sweaters, Skirts, Millinery, Hosiery, Lingerie Phone RE 2-6518 312 N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. THE OAK- “SeMs Everything’’ 400 NORTH SYCAMORE ST. RE 3-9031 Hess-Jeweler “The Best for Less” WATCHES AND DIAMONDS 208 N. Sycamore Street Phone RE 2-8131 Petersburg, Va. BEN HILL, Florist INCOBPORATED FLOWERS AND GIFTS ■ 12 North Union Street Near Comer of Washington Street Phone RE 3-3617 Petersburg, Va. A P Bakery W. W. PRITCHETT, Prop. 35 South Sycamore Street Prince Robinson MODEL LAUNDRY and DRY CLEANING Stevens Maclin “The Record Shop” 31 West Washington Street Largest Stock of Records in Southside Virginia Bentz Paint Wall Paper Corporation BRUSHES - GLASS - OILS Acme Quality Paints and Varnishes PHONE REgent 2-5431 23 West Washington Street Young-Harrison Co, CLOTHIERS and FURNISHERS 22 North Sycamore St. RE 2-7132 RCA - VICTOR - ZENITH TELEVISION AND RADIOS Carr’s Radio Shop Petersburg’s Pionee r Dealer Electrical Appliances Sales and Services 31 S. Sycamore Street Butterworth’s, Inc. Quality Furniture 415 Boulevard Telephone RE 2-4256 Colonial Heights Virginia Sp€BOS ' “The Store of Fashion” “Insure in Sure Insurance” Phone RE 3-3123 G. C. Wilson Company INCORPORATED REAL ESTATE - INSURANCE 107 West Tabb Street Petersburg Virginia FURNITURE of DISTINCTION Hotpoint and Philco Appliances Custom Kitchens LOVE-HUDGINS, INC. 5-7 South Sycamore St. Phone RE 3-7102 Kirk’s Super Market Choice and Prime STEER BEEF Cor. Wythe and JeflFerson CONGRATULATIONS Colonial Heights Drug Store, Inc. 135 PICKWICK AVENUE Dial RE 3-9822 Whelan Brigstock’s Service Center ' C. R. (Sam) Whelan, Prop. Ufmw Tires - Tubes - Batteries 221 W, Washington St. RE 2-4471 J. R. GARLICK CERTIFIED WATCHMAKER All Work Guaranteed 22 N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. Story’s Beauty Shop 222 Suffolk Ave. COLONIAL HEIGHTS Phone RE 3-7835 Blue Ribbon Super Market G. M. and J. W. KVASNICKA Props. 26 Halifax St. Phone RE 2-8851 Compliments of Leonard’s Hardware PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA The Newest in The Newest in Compliments of Sportswear Haberdashery Builder’s Supply Co. Sollod’s Clothing Shop “Solid Built Clothes” of Petersburg, Inc. FOR MEN AND BOYS Phone RE 3-7021 “Everything to Build With” Special Attention to Boys and Students 221 N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. JORDAN BROS. Fine Diamonds Compliments of Gorham - Alvin International Silver NOLDE BREAD HAMILTON - ELGIN - BULOVA PETERSBURG’S NEWEST GRUEN WATCHES INDUSTRY 123% N. Sycamore Street Dodge — Plymouth — Dodge Trucks Ted Curry Motors, Inc. SALES - Phone 2-3811 - SERVICE 19-27 N. Union St. Petersburg, Va. J. C. Penney Company INCORPORATED Where Southside Virginia Shops and Saves Compliments of Don Voshall’s Lieutenant Run Service 900 SOUTH SYCAMORE ST. Phone RE 2-9846 148 North Sycamore Street SPECIALIZING IN ALL BAKED GOODS Master System Bakery PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA Phone RE 2-6941 Auto - Fire - Life - Hospitalization rsii llllLfy Phone RE 3-3321 217 - 18 Union Trust Building Insure WISELY With the Wileys Telephone REgent 2-8191 Q Gty Barber Shop 125 Pickwick Ave. COLONIAL HEIGHTS, VA. A. E. KIDD — Owner “The Old Reliable” Established 1887 Petersburg Furniture Company, Inc. HOME FURNISHINGS “Your Credit Is Good” 100 N. Sycamore St. RE 3-4402 Compliments of Walnut Hill Food Service R. A. CONDREY, Prop. Petersburg, Va. RE 3-5758 FOR DRY CLEANING AT ITS BEST DIAL RE 3-8441 Grumpier Cleaners 906 Boulevard Colonial Heights Pick Up and Delivery Service COMPLIMENTS OF H. L. BLOUNT Clayton Oldsmobile, Inc. SALE - SERVICE Phone RE 3-3773 C. F. SCOTT, Inc. Real Estate and Insurance 14 EAST TABB STREET The Rennicks Co., Inc. GENERAL CONTRACTORS 530 East Bank St. PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA Telephone RE 2-3351 Compliments of Roper Building Supply Corporation SANDLER’S LUMBER - MILLWORK “We Supply the Builder” 113 N. SYCAMORE ST. Phone RE 2-9321 Grigg’s Gulf Service Compliments of OIL - LUBRICATION - ACCESSORIES TIRES - TUBES BL ACKER’S “Road Service” 1924 S. Sycamore St. RE 2-9718 Young Men’s Shop Jordan Motors, Inc. LUBM AN’ S Chrysler - Plymouth Dealers Ladies’ — Men’s — Boys’ Wear 130-132-134-136 BolUngbrook St. 231-233 North Sycamore St. Phone RE 2-8441 Petersburg, Va. Phone RE 3-9731 Petersburg, Va. Dutch Garden Pit-Cooked Bar-B-Q 2046 S. Sycamore Street PETERSBURG, VIRGINIA Wm. S. Haskins, Prop. Phone RE 2-3981 HOWERTON WILLOUGHBY Preston Howerton Willie Willoughby Opticians and Jewelers Eyeglasses - Watches - Diamonds Jewelry 7 N. Sycamore St. Petersburg, Va. L. G. Balfour Company ATTLEBORO, MASSACHUSETTS Leading Manufacturers of Class Rings and Pins Commencement Announcements Diplomas, Medals and Trophies Class Rings and Commencement An- nouncements for the Seniors of Peters- burg High School are Balfour-Made. Tire Service Battery Service Sycamore Service Station C. C. BUCHANAN, Prop. 15-17-19 South Sycamore St. Lubrication Washing - VISIT - Goins Barber Shop TO LOOK YOUR BEST Colonial Heights 636 Boulevard 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. RE 3-7817 ;eU The Missile with a modern flourish ; smart type faces good typography clean printing modest cost PLUMMER PRINTING COMPANY, Inc. 122 W. Tabb St. REgent 3-7373 Petersburg, Va. COMPLIMENTS OF A FRIEND C300D 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 democracy. 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 ■ ' if • V 9S. ( I i J , t ■j . ‘ 1 ' ■ ■r ' ... v; Y