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Page 84 text:
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ClAS8 Any attempt to tell the history of a graduating class in a few hundred words is obviously impossible, however, we shall at- tempt a pocket-size edition. Each one of us has his, or her, own memories of the stren- uous KP! years which have galloped by, some are common property, others deeply personal or shared by a secret few. We who graduate in February and Iune of 1950 have attended P.T.l. during what may well be the most important years of its existence. Following World War II came record enrollments of new students, each class larger than the one before, and to the already sagging floors came more equip- ment to push out further the bulging walls. Then after many sleepless nights and midst numerous, whispered reports came the new school site and the present buildings. His- tory had been made while time marched on, but P.T.l. was in the running too! Remember ? '? '? 'P That first day way back when . . . The smiling faces of the grand Inquisitors Doc's Thomas and Turn- belston as they guided and goaded us thru that mental jig-saw puzzle they called an entrance exam. If you took a good look-see at any of the frosh you were pleasantly surprised that most were as old as you and some a bit older. This was not the type of college man you heard about in other years. For the first few months conversations were directly con- cerned with wartime topics and spiced with that picturesque jargon of the services. Those non-vets must have really been lost at first. Most of us, as ex-G.I.'s, felt right at home immediately, first, there was the long wait in line to surrender our certificates of eligibility or our SS at the treasurer's window, next the battle of Room 303 under the generalship of Miss Krecker. Then the line outside the Fabric Analysis office for our locker key. We staggered to our lockers under a be- wildering load of supplies and awaited the bell for the opening round. Then along came that ole devil work and only remnants of the war-talk remained. Ruptured-ducks headed south and the poor HISTURY civies could breathe easier at last. Now and then a bit of khaki or blue appeared in oz classmate's attire, the last reminder of bygone days. Paint that little lf64 square? Impos- sible! We learned, but fast, that the impos- sible could be done immediately, miracles might take a bit longer. Mr. McLain! Mr. Stafford! Mrs. Weaver! Anybody! This thing won't weave right. But why 840 yards to a pound? Why should we worry about chem- istry, we're not C ci D's? ls that what virgin wool means? If we learned anything the first few weeks, it was a shut mouth asks no stupid questions. We now realize the importance of Iohn- ny Naab's lecture! preliminary-the big dol- lar sign drawn on the board. And, of course, we know now that textile technology is basi- cally simple-as Mr. Giese says, It's just raisers and sinkers, boys! But, Mr. Giese, just because l left out a raiser, is that a good reason to reject this 'beautiful' plate? Let's not forget the faculty's definition of the honor system-we have the honor and you have the system. We made the acquaintance of a won- derful man with a delightfully whimsical sense of humor, Prof. Campbell. Over two years of association was interrupted by his untimely death. Nor will a certain group forget the day when Mr. McLain told a hand weaving stu- dent that his timing, coordination, and speed in operating a hand loom were commend- able, but wouldn't it improve if a bobbin with yarn was placed in the shuttle. Our knowledge grew by leaps and bounds. Mastery of Fabric Analysis blew- up our ego no end, application of dyes to fabrics fand our fingers! proved equally easy and we could even find that invisible fiber in microscopy class and tell whether it was animal, vegetable, or mineral. Then Mr. France confronted us with a machine aptly named the mule Never did a beast give up its secrets more stubbornly. And then just to prove we couldn't identify orlon somebody palmed off a well-worn wool sock with the regular samples in Seminar.
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Page 85 text:
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The magnetic powers of a moustache to the ladies was proven by numerous experi- ments among our rambunctous Bomeos. Even old age was proven to be no detriment to gain that 2.5 or better average. Can we ever forget the odor of stale beer and pretzels, the smoke-fogged atmosphere, the mellowed voices raised in sporadic har- monies, and the inevitable morning after the 'nite before -that's our memory of Chassey's. Dreaming of a White Christmas ac- companied by appropriate snow flurries suddenly became very popular during those cotton classing lectures. Wonder why? Remember the days when we couldn't legally walk in the front entrance or sit on the front steps? Now there aren't even any steps .... The new clubroom is an improve- ment . . . twice as many ping-pong tables even if there are four times as many players. . . . The same faces around the pool tables, we doubt that some of the 8-ball sharks even ' attend P.T.l. Wonder why those little lessons from life conducted on a grandiose scale by Doc Thomas in the now famous Room llU were listed as Psychology on our rosters? We know that dear old Broad and Pine was too cramped, too inefficient for adequate instruction-but gosh how we en- joyed the parade of pulchritude put on by the Arts School and Pierce School coedsl Re- member when one of us was invited by an Art School model to watch her pose, sans clothes, and a whole gang of us went to the room she mentioned and found an en- gineering drawing class in progress? Where, oh where, have the good old days gone-Iacquard used to be a pleasure when you could watch the tele-Visions across the street while listening to the intricate de- tails of a six warp tap. lf anyone should ask in later years the name of the most famous hostelry in town we're sure the cry unanimous would be the Happy Bock alias the Gladstone. Of course, it's not for maiden aunts or bashful bachelors, but if you require atmosphere Cand the Rock reeks with the stuffl, a penthouse, complete with a roof garden and entertainment after dark-then throw away your inhibitions and sign the register. You've gotta admit it though, you had one swelluva time once you entered its sacred portals. Army can have its donkey, Navy its goat, Princeton its tigers, and Baltimore its Orioles, but we've got the one, the only, the original Silesian Silkworm. The merry mayhem and musical ma- larkey we added to the score of Aida and Carmen Opera was never like thisll Oh, brother, and if music lovers have their way it never will be again. After we gave the long-hairs the full treatment of P.T.l. Egyptian pulchritude and Spanish sophistication, Aida was glad to be sealed in her pyramid and Carmen was tickled to death with her little stiletto. The Hit Parade goes on and on, but year after year the seniors pick the same old favorites: Boop, Boop, Doupe, l..et's Take a Full-Fashioned Walk and Some Fantastic Weaving. Remember when one of the fraternities held their dance in the grand CPD ballroom of Al White's Emporium of the Danse? We somehow suspect from the color scheme of purple and white that Mr. Koenig was not consulted. Will the C ci D's ever forget the day when Prof. Theel threatened to have all class room windows which faced Pine Street frosted unless the students ceased giving a red-headed ecdysisist' more attention than his lectures. 'Cecdysis-the act of shedding an outer cuticular layer.l Our extra-curricular activities were' rich and varied. The Vogue, Chassey's, Iack's, the Crowfoot Banquets, Fraternity dances, and this year's First Annual Christmas Ball, the pool, ping-pong, and chess tournaments, the varsity basketball team, the bull sessions in the south court, the wild parties at the Gladstone, the crazy doings entailed in join- ing the fraternities, all contributed something twe don't venture to say whatl to our edu- cation. The class of '50 has one thing for which to be very grateful-only one trip through the maze of forms of our new look regis- trations. And no more sweating out the book line-probably the only line in the country that could stop Notre Dame.
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