Pratt Institute - Prattonia Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 30 text:

individual, you can bet You've heard the expression: ‘He's been like a father hundred and ten engineers all direc your last buck he's quite a guy. He's not ad tor. What's he done? Here's the man w didn't feel like smiling— the guy who tickled your r when yo exam or post-mortem look—the fellow who always managed to find what you had carelessly lost. If you believe suc is hapiness and adjustment to a way of life, here is the most successful man know. W oudly tip our hats to Mr. Harry T. Smith, Locker Room Superintendent, sixty-e + years young, and we wish him sixty-eight more. To you, Smitty, from your beys. that ph or, or even an instruc- show ow to smile when you ad that pre CHEMICAL ENGINEERING To tell the story of our four ‘short years’ at Pratt is to tell a story that would keep three Chi- nese laundries going full blast, to supply towels for all the tears. But enough of that; let us start from the very beginning. We should all have started four years ago in 1944. However, with the war, sum- mer sessions, and ‘'stubborn'' instructors, nobody can remember when he started. Take Joe Minde who can remember the time President Roosevelt visited the school. (Teddy, that is!) And then there's Phyllis Turcott who stood on a supposed-nylon line for two hours before she found that she had passed three courses, got an A on a lab report, and been on the Dean's list for six terms at Pratt. Oh, but they were jolly days at dear old P.I. (we could easily say something here but no... ). Remember how Dr, Dixon instituted ‘'throw out week’ and tossed cut three pieces of junk before he found out that they were two students and a centrifuge? Then there was that day that Mary, the cleaning woman, whipped an instructor for daring to write on a blackboard. Remember Differential Equations with Professor Thompson. The class was told that it would have to be seated exactly on the hour and could leave ten minutes before the next hour. Two innocent chems'' tried this one day. Several shots rang out from a Confederate musket, and their bodies are now mute testimony as to the advisability of leav- ing Professor Thompson's class, ever!!

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The Pratt Institute School of Engineering cannot merely be described as an educational organization for the advancement of American engineering prin- ciples the principles of our founder .. . it is the cumu- It is all this and much more. It represents lative result of half a century of the unselfish toi of men devoted to one purpose . . . it is the means by which hopeful young men and women become useful, thinking beings . . . it is the aggregate, untiring efforts of Dean Hibshman, Professor Carr Dr. Dixon, Professor Luce, and the entire faculty it is the inspiration of those who enter and the pride of those who leave. It is all this and much more. ...

Page 31 text:

Yes, those were the days. There was the time Dick Keirber had a sales special—a few things he had brought back from the Philippines. Two how- itzers, six P.T. boats, and a Geisha Girl! Sycamore'’ Schwab — while everyone else drooled at the girls—would study the structure of the huckleberry twig. A review of the class wouldn't be complete with- out mentioning our boy, George Van Hare. Who could forget our famous class battle cry, ‘'l got the homework right, George, but let me see how you did the last one!''? Our days were always brightened by comedian Ed Van Steenbergen whose last words were, ''What course is this and why?'' Not everybody was happy, however. There was Bob Allen, who was so bitter he wouldn't even answer to his name when attendance was taken. Leon Cherbow and Murray Kabinoff were happy ones though, when they happened to pass a quiz or weren't on Mr. Shaffer's ''| hate you—let’s see you pass now'' parade. How about John ''Shotgun’ Morrow? | wouldn't say he liked to hunt but that collection of instructor's heads was very impressive. Pops'' Hall, however, was different. We was sane. Only why did he want his son to do his math home- work? Probably because it was child's play. An- other member was Ernie Steinmann. His only trouble was leaving school on time so he could make that basketball game. And so as graduation approaches, our little raft made of broken slide-rules moves away from the shore and we see Pratt Institute slowly sinking in the west. Forrest Baulieu Romano Ciuliano R. Bierbower Leon Cherbow Murray Kabinoff Richard Keiber Robert Rambeau Robert Sonntag George Van Hare Melvin Klingher Raymond Schwab Ernest Steinmann Edward Van Steenberger John Morrow Leonard Smith Phyllis Turcott Sanford Zimmerman