Port Jervis High School - Victor Yearbook (Port Jervis, NY)

Page 33 text:

. HRT ERV, V E .fr Song of The Class of 1932 WORDS: CHRISTINE CONKLING MUSIC: MARGARET DeMOND Uh 1-lalssmaltes, here we stand today To cheer euell other on our wayg lVe strive to do our best each day To keep 2llllIPltiO1l in full sway, lVe hope to reach our goal of silvcess, lVe alll forsee some future happiness. TI11-11 l1ere's to old P. J. lVl:os0 guiding' hand we owe liverytlning' we have nvllievell and alll we know Cuonrsz Seniors, Seniors, Loyal and true are we 'Fo our dear old Alma Mater So we will ever he. AN NOUNCER

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ia H fs K.-X'l'lll,l'lEN Wmss A Smiling Senior, pretty and wise. Kuthleen's dimpled blushes grace Por-Je meeting Cand what dignified lady's wouldnt? She and Mary Mcu-Xndrew are inseparable :lids in the Dramatic Club. Kathleen thinks some great men besides Caesar should be named Augustus HICIIARD XVIEIEOLIYI' LI Q' :W Each maiden turns to look and sigh, 8 For Richard Wieboldt's passing by! 2 , Dick may come from Greenville, but he is by no means green. At least the feminine half of the class does not think so. WVhy must these silent, indifferent men be singled out and placed on a pedestal by the admiring fairer sex? WVhen asked if he intends to take Holly- wood by storm after graduation, Dick druwls nonchalantly, Neva ! GLENN Yorxcz The Original Rah Rah Boy. Yes, it's Glenn! NVe wonder how he could be quiet so long as to have this photograph made, for he is always busy helping someone. Youngsie will always be remembered by his classmates for his loyal support as a cheer li-zuier. Glenn is also :rmember of the Boys' Glee Club, and his pleasing' voice muy often be heard along the Mil- ford road. SAN. Z1-11:11:11 Take a look at Salesman Saul, Best shoe-seller of them all. Soul, ec.mmonly.1inown as Irish, is a well-liked member of our Senior Class. H' ,urly brown hair and sparkling eyes may be sin- gled out at eve p, for Saul is very fond of tripping the light fantastic. l . D AN NOUNCER

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H F The Prophecy of The Class of 1932 From my perch in the front of Main Study my eyes and, incidentally, my mind wander from the books before me to the hills, the bright blue sky, the white clouds and the brilliant sun. Time and distance are obliviated. Fancy rules. A silver bird glides gracefully among the clouds, a human hand, a familiar one at that- Eva Foster's to be exact, guides the bird to a safe landing. Officer McKeeby keeps the surging crowd back. I find myself amid a maze of cam- eras, pads and pencils, or in other words amid the gentlemen of the press, when suddenly I no- tice Paul Brennan and Harry Feingold. After renewing their acquaintances I learn that they are reporters for The New York Times. When they tell me that Bradley Boyle is editor of that publication I don't believe it. Here, they say, is the latest edition. If offers ample proof. However, I am glad to see the newspaper for, from that line edition, I discover what time has done to some of my classmates of P. J. H. S. Fern Bennett conducts a column on beauty advice, Marion Heise gives counsel to the lovelorn. The social news mentions that Margaret DeMond, the accomplished pianist, has returned from a con- cert tour of Europeg that Hannah Ernst has sailed to do missionary work in China. Queer that of all places for Hannah to go she should choose China, isn't it? The front page explains the situation. Henry Van Auken in the capacity of ambassador has made successful negotiations with-yes, with China. The sports section also offers information concerning the Class of '32. Sylvia Rosner, Dorothy Reeves and Caroline Kent are getting in form for the coming Olympic games. There are pictures of Louise Walker, noted swimmer, and of Marian Cuddeback, fancy ice skater. While I am absorbed in reading the newspaper, a crowd gathers. I am the center of a laughing group. I look at them-those people who look so mid-Victorian in dress. Alas, my short skirts and my short hair are the objects of their amuse- ment. How relieved I am when good-hearted Josephine Meloi shields me from the jeering throng! She takes me to her dressmaking estab- lishment and lo, under her capable fingers and those of Sophie Waitherwerch I am transformed into a fashionable lady. Josephine has news of our classmates. Frances Brooks, a buyer for one of New York's largest stores, has just returned from Europe with Agnes McCaffrey whom time has made a sophisticated widow. Both Margery Kenyon and Christine Conkling are happily married. Joe Cashman is coach at Notre Dame assisted by Morgan Sweeney. Elsie Culver is owner and manager of a gymnasium, employing Eleanor Hart and Bea- trice Schofield as masseuses. After Josephine leaves to take care of a cus- tomer, I pick up a magazine, which happens to be Judge Then and there I discover what Edwin Aber's sense of humor, perverted or other- wise, has done to him, he is editor. Soon Jose- phine returns with a stately young woman who seems quite familiar. Naturally, for she is Helene Graiger who, I am not surprised to learn, is President of Girl Scouts of America. On our way to see a moving picture show Helene and I meet a group of people entering a large building. Glancing at a sign we notice that there is a convention of the business men of America in that building. We resolve to pause here, perhaps the field of business has claimed some of our old friends. It certainly has, we learn. A long slender vehicle stops at the curb. Its owner is-William Kelly, who has become an important factor in the financial world. He is accompanied by his staff of secretaries and stenographers, including Mary Boyd, Margaretta Coleman and Sophie Jackovich. Another car drives up. The dazzling splendor of the automo- bile makes us curious about the owner. We are attempting to politely, if it can be done politely, l'ubberneck when a familiar Greetings falls on our ears. Yes, the portly gentleman was Wells Sheldon, who made his millions, or bil- lions with his invention of the perfect alarm clock, guaranteed to get people places on time. Wells tells us that, without a doubt, Dorothy Schaffer will be the next typewriting champion, for at present she types two hundred and forty words a minute. Helene and I arrive at the theatre, where we discover that the motion picture profession has called several former classmates. Richard Wei- boldt, handsome actor, is the idol of the hourg Nathan Honig directs Class A productions. Yet, AN NOU NCER