Pratt Institute - Prattonia Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Text from Pages 1 - 104 of the 1951 volume:

———— — IN a i Th mm, sttteP bh au 2 HANDCOCK The good taste of trying to be funny in a senior yearbook, especially in the year 1951 can and, no doubt, will be questioned. The questioner might even have a case—but we don’t think so. In fact, we are particu- larly vehement in our belief that humor is pleasant contrast to the sorry scheme of things which daily presents itself in headlines and on the radio, an oasis in a desert of barren politics and fruitless belliger- ence. In pursuit of this conviction we decided to trample caution, ignore the frowns of disapproving critics, and try to laugh a little. PRATTONIA 751 is a lot of things it probably shouldn’t be. It, also, isn’t a lot of things it probably should be. This being or not being, however, is a circumstance of purposeful direction and not an acci- dent. For instance, if you consult PRATTONIA ’51 in search of some fact, you may find it, but chances are you won't. If you are looking for profound literature, this is not the source you should choose. In these and many other ways this book is a miserable failure. Who cares? Facts are the ware of The World Almanac, the Kinsey Report, and the Gallup poll. Profundity we leave to The Readers’ Digest. Both have been meticulously omitted from this volume. It is our considered opinion that a successful yearbook should be fun. It should be fun the day you first lay eyes on it. It should be fun many years hence as you reminisce fondly upon your academic days. It should still be fun when, even more years hence, you sit by the fire- place, shriveled and feeble, reading it to your grandchildren. It should provoke chuckles and evoke time-dimmed memories until its very cover crumbles from too much such provoking and evoking. PRATTONIA ’51 will then have served its purpose. And if it hasn’t, we still don’t intend to apologize. To all the members of this Class of 1951, made up of future archi- tects, art teachers, followers of the arts in many varying fields, home economists, librarians, leather tanners, and engineers, | extend my con- gratulations. I will say this to you on Commencement Day, with a deep feeling of friendship and a hand gradually swelling in size as I greet one of the Institute’s largest classes, and one of its best. Your record has been good. Your friendly cooperation is greatly appreciated by all of us who work here for the advancement of the education of present and future students. We shall miss you. May you read Prattonia one, five, ten, or more years hence with pleasant memories of friends and personal accomplishments here. It is a task in itself to graduate in these uncertain and disturbing times. “Where shall I be a year from now?” is uppermost in all minds, and it is no fun. However, let’s look to the future with courage and confidence. Charles Pratt, President Dedic ation You may not have noticed but we are nearing the end of an era: the era of the check; the age of red tape; the epoch of the G.I. Bill. With so close a perspective, it would be presumptuous to try to evaluate the importance of this golden age in the history of the search for knowl- edge. It might even be naive, speaking broadly, to think that it has even been worth the countless tons of paper that have been used to record it—in quadruplicate. Nevertheless, it has been of unquestioned signifi- cance in the lives of over 8200 Pratt students since 1944 and so, to this “era of wonderful nonsense,” to those 8200 students, and, especially to the Pratt Veterans’ Services department, Prattonia ’51 is respectfully dedicated. Mrs. Small, Mrs. Kay and thirty-eight rehabilitation students, in- cluding the wounded, the malarial, and the mentally ill, pioneered the “early days” together. Many picturesque anecdotes might be told con- i : : cerning the pandemonium of those trying times; there were a lot of ae pues ome Mira: ‘Adeline Kiselewaki(Kay) ieee a ae of tears. Suffice to ies were unique!” Then came P.L. 346 and the ever increasing influx of America’s heroes; fresh from battle and eager to learn. Each was an individual and each a new problem. Each had books to be ordered, papers to be processed, sup- plies to be obtained, grades to be recorded; all this and the V.A., too. And on and on they came. The class of 1951 is composed of nearly eighty percent veterans— an all time high. In subsequent classes there has been a rapid decline— only forty-seven GI’s registered at Pratt in 1950; a mere thirteen per- cent of freshman enrollment. And so we say we are nearing the end of an era. It was no sinecure that Mrs. Small and Mrs. Kay took on. To say that they didn’t know what they were in for would be understatement personified. Had they known they would probably have thrown up their hands and run off to war themselves. The fact that they stayed and fought their own private little war; the fact that they survived the chaos and emerged intact is reason enough for this meager tribute. And the tribute is joyfully given. Manager, Pratt Veterans’ Services Secretary, Veterans’ Affairs, The Art School PRATTONIA STAFF— Bditortins@hietirss . actncles citer tere sro tenets ROBERT WOLCOTT Businessmvanag etre istercticietse ie sere anette este ker EUGENE MARCUS Art and Photography Editor................... PETER KORZAAN AssistantvAit Hditors.racitoceie ca recnie maar JEAN FORTIN Assistant Photouliditon. mit teri te taetsteteere it PETER FASANELLO KiteranyEditonscr rk eccrine eter rte NANCY POWERS Assistant Witerany Mdutor jectryara tsetse yeter ats DON KENNEDY Faculty, Advisers say. ce = nisreeiete eleteeioc)el teler= eole))=1= MARY L. WOLFE eoe James C. Boudreau, Dean The Art School Nelson S. Hibshman, Dean Florence S. Tabor, Dean The School of Engineering The School of Home Economies Robert C. Whitford, Dean Wayne Shirley, Dean The Division of General Studies The Library School THE STUDENT EXECUTIVE BOARD— Last April, ye olde Institute suddenly contracted a strange malady. A poster rash broke out on every floor, accompanied by feverish and bar- baric shouts and ravings, which threatened to dislocate several beams and cause permanent injury to a dozen or so loose bricks. When the temperature fell, the patient had a new outlook on student government; and physicians in attendance agreed that George had, indeed, done it. Since then, President George Wiesner and his fellow conspirators Bob Christenson (Vice-President) and Barbara Matura (Secretary-Treasurer ) have effectively governed Prattonians from the Brown House on Grand Avenue. Of what does this government consist, you ask? Perhaps a committee investigation will reveal some of its aspects. The Activities Committee, headed by Bob Catanero, checks on the status—healthy, declining or defunct—of the various clubs and organiza- tions at Pratt; and informs the S.E.B. of their problems and needs. Guided by Bert Fried, the Awards Committee attends to the discovery and com- mendation of those Seniors who have made outstanding contributions to the life of the Institute. The Finance Committee, lead by Ray Lawson, battles the inflation- ary spiral and invents bright answers for that perpetual question, “Where does our money go?” Some of the latter turns up in health service; an- other sum often puts clubs back in the black; and still another portion is spent in replacing furnishings which daily use and student acrobatics have demolished in the lounge and Men’s Club. The white-coated attend- ants in the lounge are also accounted for in this particular allotment. Contrary to rumor, they are neither psychiatric aides nor the result of coffee nerves. Al Amato and his Publications Committee are in charge of the student voice, as heard in the Prattler, Freshman Handbook, Prattonia, and other printed matter of Institute-wide importance. The Recreational Facilities Committee, headed by John Swass, chases stray ping-pong balls, opens the doors of the Men’s Club to the general public, and pushes unsuspecting students into the Pratt pool. Bob Anderson and the Social Committee provide the moving force behind such events as the Winter Festival, April Showers, the Hatchet Hop and assorted coffee clutches. Although interior designers have not yet begun work on the lounge and the Men’s Club and the Student Union is still part of a rather misty future, the ping-pong screen is a reality and so is a year of good gov- ernment. SENIOR CLASS COUNCIL— Acting as a liaison between the Student Executive Board and the Senior Class was one of the major functions of the Council, which was composed of delegates from each departmental Senior class. Representa- tives from the S.E.B. attended Council meetings, and Council members could be found nodding with the rest at S.E.B. sessions. Council repre- sentatives return from the Board with well digested accounts of what had expired there, and sometimes conducted class voting on changes in the S.G.A. constitution. Planning the Senior Social Calendar consumed the balance of the Council’s time. The atmosphere in the Men’s Club would have lacked an essential element if the Class of 51 had not left its mark upon it; and this was easily accomplished under the influence of a certain effervescent spirit, which, thanks to the Council, permeated the air at the Winter Festival and April Showers. As “chairwoman,” Meadie Osborne lent a touch of Southern charm to Class Day, and chairman Charlie Lando’s unique musical rating scale played an important part in the success of the Senior Prom, which was well publicized by John Handcock and company. Following Commencement and Mr. Pratt’s reception for Seniors, nothing remained but the presentation, by Irene Bodo and her committee, of the class gift, a year’s leave of absence for each undergraduate. saath alata 2a gt heme ee gee errno sata, the art school y sie es aay, Saxe XS. noe to ay : a Rae Ri eC ta ne Be = William L. Longyear James Brooks Charles H. Burger, Jr. Walter Civardi Marguerite Drewry Herschel Levit Missed the elevator? A tragedy—he’ll be late. But no! With the quick decision and grim determination peculiar to his species he leaps for the stairs and vanishes upwards; leaving in his wake a confusion of bent T-squares, Mondrian reproductions, and ruffled Home Econ- omists. The courageous adventurer who dares pursue this littered trail will find himself on the fifth floor, amongst a breathless, but intent, tribe which the world has come to call “Advertising Designer.” Pause a moment, inhale, and observe the potted greenery with leaves trailing lazily; the soft cushions; the shining crystal cases with their intriguing arrangements of merchandise. Note the exhibit dealing with reproductive process 103 (no, ma’am, this has nothing to do with biology!). Peaceful, is it not? Yet, within these confines, hours become minutes and minutes, seconds. Brains labor feverishly; hands strain at ties and starched white collars; production is at the—(ouch)— maximum. Consider this strange paradox of art and industry—this “advertis- ing designer.” Listen: “Caslon Italic, Futura Medium? Girder! Ah-h-h —bouncing Playbill.” What strange language is this? Note its under- current of tension; the texture of the sound. On your way down to the fourth floor, watch for the inimitable abstract forms flooding the paper in room X. Bold blacks, reds, and yellows, plus delicate shadings of terra cotta. Sensational! One side, please. Mr. Mercury coming in with the stats. Look at that—one magnified dust particle, one lettuce-leaf montage, three quin- tuple exposures, and twelve superimposed, reverse-positive negatives. There is a Forum today? Go, by all means. In the dimly lit interior of Memorial Hall the taint outline of rich, gently swaying velvet drapes may be discerned. A virtuoso crouches over the dark mass of the piano—left, front. Offstage, an ethereal soprano pours out her dedication (particularly illustrative of the Baroque Period), “Lullaby and goodnight, thy red eyes close t-i-i-i-ght. Sleep, sleep, sleep.” What bliss to linger in this cultural atmosphere, but the lights are up. How like a dream have passed the hours. Gone, like a substance which never existed, is the audience. Load the portfolios, men; seal them with rubber cement and cover them tenderly with acetate. The field awaits. John C. Nichols Eugen H. Petersen Cornelia Smollin Walter Steinhilber and Blanche Berkoff Mary Isabel Bosserman William H. Kries ie eA p ib a 25 | Ets i yon wi , e és ae he Or i ¥ - 4 ° fam late SoI Ren jap on? Fela $0 falcon SL ayo He ts tiles A sr cbt yucs b- With Gaal Ttcomes attest — and Edward Higgins Gene Slaughter Kenneth Wilmot and Saul Edelbaum Otto V. Hula Emil Lowenstein Clarissa Morgan Jeanette Osborn Eleanor Pepper Carl Sigman Konrad F, Wittman Janet M. Armstrong William N. Goodridge Ivan Rigby Morris Zeitlin Read Weber chairman INTERIOR DESIGN— Behind false fronts and other purely decorative architectural fixtures may be found the essence of the structure: that which keeps the ceiling from falling, the plaster on the walls, husbands at home and lamps in the window for prodigal sons. Some call it devastation or desecration. Here, in the fourth-floor alcove, it is commonly termed design. Before penetrating this inner recess of the Art School, send up a prayer or two, and contemplate the model home on your right. Note that the high-piled rugs and low-slung tables eliminate the need for chairs. The unusual lighting effects are achieved through the use of bottled glowworms, tastefully distributed within each room. In the scientific kitchen, self-watering plants are arranged at the windows, and an ingeniously conceived conveyor belt carries dishes from stove to table to sink to cupboard. Naturally, the latter can be run in reverse. For sleeping accommodations, back to the high-piled rugs. All win- dows are opaque from the inside and transparent from the outside, an arrangement which insures a maximum of privacy. Drapes are of invisible scrim, imported from Nowhere. Yes, u-m-m-h-m-m, you’ve seen enough, but don’t neglect the peep show with its invaluable display of forms, angles and curves. Just past the threshold of this temple of industry is “The Window,” featuring Gregory Peck as a Renaissance lamppost and Lana Turner as a lush piece of lace. Past the geyser in the middle of the floor, which illustrates a basic plumbing principle, the onlooker will see the future members of the profession, who inhabit the place, straining over their long, low desks. Because of the future value of the work produced here, these tables are affectionately called “breadboards.” Each of them is equipped with the essential copy of “Interiors” in addition to numer- ous pens, T-squares, brushes and triangles. At least fifty-five percent of the class is majoring in lounge reconstruction. The others are cooperat- ing on sketches for the various rooms in Mr. Blandings’ dream house. Ah, there they go. Into the future they march on spool and spindle, cabriolet and trumpet, still pondering that question of questions, “What is the difference between an ordinary post and an architectural column?” it He V. Klee There is a segment of the Pratt population, not otherwise mentioned in these pages, who, all things being equal, should have individual pictures etched in gold-leaf on th e front cover. It is they—the tireless, long- suffering and unsung members of the P.H.T. — whom we pause now, humbly and reverently, to salute. These are the people behind the scenes; the motivating force behind many of our classmates; the wives and children whose sole purpose in life is “to get papa through Pratt” at the earliest possible moment. To record the bitter agony and frustration involved in achieving this end would take many paragraphs. Suffice to say that when, at last, the diplomas are distributed and the laurels are bestowed, none will be any more deserving of the rewards than the battered—but unbowed—stalwarts of the P.H.T. Moola architectu Olindo Grossi William N. Breger Huson Jackson Sidney Katz chairman and Raniero Corbelletti Henry Eipel William Eipel John Johansen Robert Hays Rosenberg William J. McGuinness St. Elmo Tower Piza Stanley Salzman Daniel Schwartzman H. Seymour Howard, Jr. Numerous are the pretty words of history and legend that have been written about the cannon in Pratt Park. However, any architect knows that it is a memorial to those members of his department who stood solidly behind their tripods and tape in the midst of floods, howling blizzards and Brooklyn smog. Speaking of architects, four are now approaching. It will be noted that they travel in groups. One out of four is sure to have had some sleep and thus can sustain and guide the others. Let us follow these gentlemen to their third-floor habitat. Here is the long corridor, bedecked with blueprints and model homes. Don’t miss the three striking ten-minute sketches on your left. They represent a total of thirty hours work. Beside them hang a series of glowing watercolors, which were sketched on location during t he winter term: Brooklyn Bridge, Spring, 1950; Brooklyn Bridge, Summer, 1950; and, of course, Brooklyn Bridge, Fall, 1950. Since there is clear weather today, the field trip has been canceled and will be replaced by a lecture in Sleepy Hollow. Relax in the dark, quiet room and enjoy a visit to the Taj Mahal. Senior architects, after long years of training and proper diet, have developed luminous eye- balls. They are avidly taking notes and making sketches; freshmen are advised to wait until their carrot content has been raised. What are they whispering about back there, the election in class today? Yes, that’s right. Willy Horn is in again! Now that the lecture is over, it’s time to actively concentrate on the elements of design. Back to the drawing board and the thesis: Premise: the class curve is the most distasteful aesthetic form. Conclusion: its use should be limited to subterranean structures off the coast of Mumbo Jumbo. Fill in the blanks between in 7,000 pages or more. Ah, well, there is a period for every sentence. Stand aside, visitor, while the graduates are wheeled out. Soon they will board the Chris- topher Wren, rocket to Mars and continue their search for different, original and dynamic designs. — —_ and Cyril Loftus and William N. Breger Walter Civardi Oito V. Hula Philip Lawson Frederick R. Pleasants Harold Simon Eva Zeisel Alexander J. Kostellow Frederick H. Ajootian Victor J. Canzani Robert Kolli Rowena Reed Ruth P. Taylor chairman TNDUSTEUAIESDMSIGINE fecmiran (yeti rate eet Seon ws giclee wen Honoured visitor, don a white sheet, girdle your waist with a tube of brass and dust your face with plaster. Next, grasp your head with your knees in a half Nelson. Even if you aren’t mistaken for a convexity, you'll experience no difficulty in adjusting to the pattern of existence in the east wing. In the room to your left, a group of students are wallowing happily in plastilene. They may be described as having gone to pot. A., after doing considerable research in the lounge, has developed a striking ashtray based on the traditional coffee cup pattern. B., some four feet down within that large, asymetrical structure, is working feverishly to complete his portable wading pool for flamingos. On the right, the lad in the leopard skin is trying to get a primitive feeling into his flatiron design. Let us leave these creatures to their glorified mudpies and move on. Look out! he doesn’t seem to know where he’s going. Could be he’s lost in space or just got a criticism on his concavity. You are now on the Sawdust Trail. If you want to try out the spin- ning wheel, go to the end of the line, located at present on the corner of Grand and DeKalb. Sandwiches will be relayed from the cafeteria at noon. Note that all students using sanders and buffers are provided with butterfly nets to aid in the capture of runaway wood blocks. No tour would be complete without a trip upstairs for a friendly chat with the kindly, soft-spoken old gentleman in charge of tools and materials. Sorry, he seems to be busy, at the moment, giving someone h— ah— advice. It’s approaching four o’clock, so you won’t be able to meet Oosey the curly-headed airbrush or be introduced to the twenty-five students who have been locked in a closet since September, working on the re- conversion of 2,000 surplus garbage cans. As the hour strikes, each industrial designer clasps his “bible” to his heart, leaps aboard his flying mobile and glides away into the future. Vv S g Bea. oy N foal Guha ORG Ca Ankh Candas! VME Qavid ¥. onl ang oe “Po CL dell, “Saffmd � Gees Clot Cok. Nee rwut — ig OLL6 Ua lacK Emre ON Pinel Qpmee Pater Lipllelie. Wocbd. ollrbele_ Hoon, Sf fate Cnald tka Athen S Reurh heme Gof Kilacd Ww m. S _ j ve 0 ve {i's 6 Chet Home ytln. Kans Ae ape Che fm? Loegt Monat — oo Wegner — Caryn | lan Yn - wile: © £ € 4 ‘ NP Be Wa 1 ‘yea ins Uae di Bem Jamie With RamveWDanleand Lleecel Wlrog—— W Seplan. lle Bead WWtouuse Do i Aly and Roland Carter Thomas Helms William Layton Alfred LeFebvre Frank Moelich George Stehl ———_ ARTJEDUCATION Vincent A. Roy Charles M. Robertson chairman and Victor Canzani Walter Civardi Paul Fjelde Mac Harshberger Erna Karolyi Eugen H. Petersen Enter these portals confidently, Kiddies, a few escape alive. Shall we try this room first? Look out for that hole in the floor. Somebedy dropped his notebook yesterday. Before you on the desk is a blank sheet of paper. To the right of the paper, a conté crayon. First, relax and close your eyes. Second, listen to the delicate harmonies of Beethoven and the African tomtom. Third, open your eyes, look directly at the screen and just follow the bouncing ball. After four years, pro- vided motivation is at the maximum, you may still have a blank piece of paper. Every lesson must be completed. Now, in this section, we find the retarded students. Not really moronic, you understand, but that situation can be remedied. The tools found most effective are scissors, paste, two hundred thousand old magazines and an equal quantity of blank lesson plans. For contrast (please observe that there is a screen for every room and a room for every screen), let us investigate the prodigy division. By and large, it is the most fascinating and challenging. Here previous experience is of no importance. Students are encouraged to use the imaginative approach, for nothing is as creative as the uncluttered brain. Today’s topic, the classic meeting of McGraw and Hill, is being given thorough coverage by the six-year-old lecturer at the front desk. He takes night courses at Columbia in adult psychology. We really should visit the Craft Shop; watch out for flying volley- balls. What a marvelous display! What originality! What ingenuity! What craftsmanship! Now there’s a ehh, what is it? Here’s the Teacher’s Friend, an original handbag with several secret compart- ments: one for aspirin, one for bicarbonate, another for iodine and band-aids, and a fourth for a special blend of arsenic and ‘strychnine, which may be readily introduced into the water supply of any school. Yes, it is time to go. Gather unto yourselves your briefcases and oil jugs, Bland for the P.T.A. and Soothing for the School Board. Keep your mind a blank and the rest will be elementary. eS Me ae fen ins] ¥) Dav lessen ide Te oe ae ba : aye Make wWittuim Cnt Wckal Hk PR Tee Wustvration Khosroy Ajootian Clarence A. Brodeur Gustave Cimiotti chairman and Raymond Creekmore Marguerite Drewry Fritz Eichenberg Karl Kup Philip Lawson James Vandenberg Frederick J. Whiteman Ervine Metzl Mario Cooper Maitland Graves Mac Harshberger Charles Mazoujian The elevator wheezes to a halt; the passenger alights. Tenderly massag- ing his shin, he proceeds down the corridor, and eventually finds him- self within what might be variously described as The House of Mirrors, The Little “Village,” Daubers’ Delight or The Asylum for Amalga- mated Abstractionists. Here one dreams, struggles, and has the same damn nightmare he had the night before. Decorating the main hall in this sanctum, one finds groups of mir- rors: some sixteen by twenty; others seven by nine and five-eighths. All are arranged with exquisite taste; and reflect the world, the flesh and the devil in various moods of chaos. From the studios located on either side of the hall drift exclamations of delight, moans of agony, sige IE !, and sundry other sounds resulting from the process of expressing that inner creative urge, graphically. The delicate essence of turpentine permeates the atmosphere. In certain studios, before their easels, the dedicated illustrators stand dreamily. Deftly they cover now the canvas, now the rears of their fellow students; their smoldering eyes transfixed by the fragile beauty of their models, obliging members of United Truckdrivers. The more scholarly members of the department remain sunken in their investigations of the spinal column and the “glorious maximus.” At break time, the illustrators strengthen their perceptive powers by means of excursions to the roof for a foreshortened view of Brooklyn or visits to the lounge, with its magnificent opportunities for character sketching. Senior illustrators may be recognized by their color-full jeans, bulging portfolios, and extensive literary collections. Among the latter are included The Parker Primer, Ajootian’s Anecdotes, the Fawcett Folia and An Anthology of Whiteman Whimsey. These students have a determined manner; and are well prepared to heed the Voices from the Outside, who offer practical advice distilled from years of experi- ence: “Forget all you’ve learned, kids. Success can be yours. What’s a broken head?” Elizabeth Cole Tucker t = 4 f 4 ie, Ye 7 Be ae : ? Ltt Gite. Bynes. BV ae Ki Le, yor C Cxlh— Welle | opal Euatl I Barn Ainic Bnhnnly op Call. Cochin. ‘ 4 “ and Sam Amato Joseph Harris George Isaacson Marian Lipp - rae fault STP Hees Gen ene ee V8 SbnclizZt MehdBS Gowen enc, C Ufo T] fflatr TEXTILE DESIGN— All paths lead to The Room, third floor, back. In one corner, by the door, five or six illustrators are supposedly sketching. A group of architects near them are busily engaged in surveying curves. Several Foundation students who went berserk over their last Three D problem j are being exercised in the hall by their instructor. Just inside the door, 7 N a strong-armed man, holding a gigantic broom, stands ready for the ae Ag bolder males who venture over the threshold. No need to be frightened, William E. Probert William V. Gorham Margaret L. Joubert however. Just toss him a box of yummy color and you're in. chairman Those students one encounters first are probably Seniors. After three years, they have earned the privilege of a quick getaway at break time. Their voices have the musical quality typical of the trained harmonizer, all have Senior Marksmen’s Medals in water jar hurling; and each and every one is qualified to teach the Charleston. Over there by the wall? O-0-o-h! he started to make a Persian print three, six— several years ago and— To the right, the Bi-Monthly Exhibition Quartet is at work. The fellow with the magnifying glass is carefully examining a wallpaper design, that girl standing on her head wanted to clarify her perspective on a gift wrapping, and her partner, at the far end of the room, is testing the carrying power of a tie print—visibility one hundred yards. Don’t bother the other boy. His mouth is full of tacks. What is this? An entire row of empty seats? Nothing to be alarmed about. The missing students are within the hallowed walls of the library, joyfully abandoning themselves to the study of historical orna- ment. Whatever Cleo used on Tony should be perfectly stunning for the new “invisible” chiffons. It would be most enlightening to observe the nature structure class, but, unfortunately, they are engaged in climbing trees in Pratt Park. Here, however, are some examples of their work. Just push that seed catalogue to one side. M-m-m-m! Don’t those colors sing? Oh, oh! Look at that clock. Time to be off. There they go, a flash of brightly-colored smocks and a forest of raised arms, each brandishing an orange tube. For others a smile or a song, but only a rose for you. and John Freeman Fis bnawi. j “Wi i [y Tod G. Dixon George B. Diamond Ralph H. McCormack _—_ Frederick C. Disque, Jr. Daniel S. Dixler John J. McClarnon Howard Nechamkin Edna May Turner chairman chairman Ip Demetrius Zelios Charles B. Jones Alfred W. Doll Donald S, Duncan Robert E. Lake Emerson P. Lambe Charles E. Toole William H. H. Knowles chairman chairman Richard J. Kohlmeyer James E. Thompson Clifford C. Carr Robert W. Diechert John T. Gundlach Maurice L. Hashmall Robert B. Morgan David Vitrogan chairman Matthjis G. J. Boissevain David P. Flitner Frank S. Beckman George C. Helme and Richard F. Schaeffer Thomas J. Thomas Alexander W. Luce, chairman Henry N. Baxter Fernley L. Fuller Leonard Miaskoff James R. Randolph Joseph B. Aidala Andrew W. Lin Kenneth E. Quier H. Russell Beatty chairman Edward DeLuca Otis Benedict, Jr. chairman Ludwig Anselmini CHEMICAL ENGINEERING— Calm yourself, visitor, the individual who grabbed your place in line, did you out of the couch in the lounge with a running broad jump, and took out the seven books you wanted to read in the library, is merely an improperly balanced arrangement of molecules from the Ch. E. depart- ment. His eagerness, not his etiquette, is typical of the zest with which he and his fellow students approach all activities. Although the lab in the left wing of the Engineering building is their natural habitat, these engineers range throughout the Institute and are particularly fond of trying out inspection methods in the cafeteria and PI Shop. Here they busy themselves painting skulls and crossbones on cups of coffee, plates of fried eggs and bowls of soup. “Johnnie’s” is an invaluable source of data on distillation. Let us return to the classrooms, however. In room Z, the student is “introduced” to literature during his first, second, third and fourth years. Quite a handshaking ceremony, but it enables him to quote formulae in Spencerian stanzas and write reports and correspondence in blank verse. In the basement, one encounters what is commonly termed “pretty dirty water.” The plant design here is quite distinktive. Lines of tastefully arranged bottles and ashcans are interspersed with frivolous loops and turns of orange and blue piping. Square D equipment lends a feeling of solidity to the atmosphere, and the diapers flapping on Mrs. Murphy’s line outside the side windows are a reminder of the more practical aspects of chemistry. At the right, a student who was fascinated with air purification is bottling Essence of Rockwood’s. An ounce will be mailed to each Senior as a graduation gift. A group of solemn upperclassmen are passing now. Having shot through their courses with unlimited enthusiasm, they are prepared to rear future citizens and restore order in the world with the Perry “Bible.” and Alfred Seaquist , : , iJ Nl os : ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING 2) emeient een After “whooping the ball around” in the gym, could anything be more refreshing than a whiff of ozone? Yes, Wading in the condenser room (please bring your own socks). Naturally, such delights are available only within that stately edifice deep in the Sycamore Forest. Approach the iron fence, purely decorative, of course, and enter the one-way gate. The yellow building thus enclosed is an institution (of learning), but have no fear; Classroom procedure is simple: 1. Lock the door. 2. Pull the shades. 3. Turn off the lights. Ophelia may be all wet, but the time is ripe for beginning the summer “research.” No. Wait a moment. There, in the corner, beneath a mellow, overturned keg, is a strange being. He shakes his head and mumbles. One hand caresses a terminal; the other care- lessly tosses pennies into an assortment of fuses. Be still, and hearken to this voice singing in the wilderness. Though alone, he speaks for many: So board a vector and turn on the juice. With pretzels, chips, and high-power-factored hot dogs, we’ll resonate and oscillate till Boston be thy name. Why, I’ve an orchid for everyone, especially one for you. . . get out of bed, Bob, the party is in room 809 . . . take a look at that wash- ing machine, Joe . . . has anyone seen Westie’s books? D.K. for Sno-Queen! Professor, does K, really equal j479360064? But, even as the evil, the good passed. Now, hear this! Of all the things that one would care to fathom, we were never deep in anything but beer. Now the fundamental constituent of all matter is love, as any fool can see... and weird noises emanated from the laboratory because . . . antennae and transmission lines were up in the air, for these things are all over our heads . . . so, what’s the story, boys, got no data? Then we applied the Law of Circuitation about some Waves, and did we get the job done! . . . verily, I say unto you, integration backwards is differentiation . . . will some- body wake Wimpy up? And few were they that were pushed past the tree of knowledge. As the years come and go, we will continue our search for that “little black box,” and, for some, in vain. =) Py «eae cAy S) . Welfhed 4 Cusroel Obed CC Oa Bhe C. Elarhp Richard S.Ekanrdt- : N by oh a - ; he { A ae ' opens. Hopton. rel Their’ Poaaat A Kieio Bamny Keck yi eb Prank til. A Leinegi Hig Geokgeneet Piabal Mrnsce Howry H Hammar and Gerould Bressner Edward Earnshaw John Kohnken Paul Kratsch MECHANICAL ENGINEERING jock de Wint MECHANICAL ENGINEERING— Huddled against a shadowy wall of the lounge are the Observers, each equipped with a vest-pocket slide rule and pledged forever to the Amer- ican Optical Company. In the center of their table, which is bearing up quite well under the weight of accumulated elbows, a copy of the “Keenan Report” nestles against a popular machine design “magazine.” But let us return to the assembled animal matter. The gentleman behind the tower of coffee cups is seeking the solution to: ten cars times four wheels equals how many flats on how many buses on which highway in New Jersey ? His buddy, whose roving eye has come to rest on a cantilever beam, is reviewing the democratic procedure which resulted in the decision to visit Link Belt. Lost in a nicotine haze, a third individual has decided to redesign buses to accommodate bigger and better battles and to improve the decorations which the aerials of a certain car received on the Pulaski Skyway. What’s causing that blissful smile on the face of the person beside him? Can it be the memory of the activities which skyrocketed Philadel- phia liquor consumption during an infamous three-day period? (How mother loved the note from the “Great White Father.” ) The next chair has been hurriedly vacated. Its former occupant is on his way to Mother Nick’s Greek Hashhouse. A light has appeared in the eyes of this sixth coffee clutcher. He has just figured out what happens to the work time sheets after ten o’clock on Monday morning. The seventh member of this company is laboring over an identifica- tion problem: What are the following: the two outstanding items on the R.C.A. inspection trip, the Glove Terror, Black Mike, Goldie, Hominy- grits, Mumbles, Peter Lorre, Crazy Mary, General Savage, Barney, Hugo, Mother Nick, Little Caesar, and the Spark Plug. It seems the wanderer has returned from Mother Nick’s to round up the rest for class, and they are off for Sycamore Park. After acquiring sufficient data with which to confuse the general public, they will confi- dently leave this spot, all humming the fourth chorus of “Ring-dang-doo.” = Martin Made fay Li Kanon. (glut bask Rag? Bhaner Glut DP Grdlindlirl ARo OC Pokus, es f Fe ’ HE fF : Pg 7 = a a bala bth te dir alr lorry Olina Wibliarm? A Coogaeee- RaTy lige as eee ‘ Wh | ef 4 4 ay A UA. ua Faw TRE Bite fang Weery = Packs 4 eee Rank SRT ET ay Were. Pabjracddes CA AAP Arthur W. Goetz chairman G. Arthur Brown TANNING — An aricient truck grunts down Waverly Avenue. Clutching a harpoon, a nervous little man perched on the freight is attempting to maintain order in the midst of flapping alligator tails, rambunctious ramskins and colliding cowhides. No sooner does the truck stop by a certain building than a yelling, apron-clad horde bursts from its doors, grabs armfuls of hides and roars back inside with them. A cloud of dust settling gently into the gutter is all that remains of the truck; and as for its driver and the little man, they may be identified as the two black specks headed upward in the general direction of the moon. Will a person survive if he enters this building, or reappear as a pair of shoes in the Easter parade? He can, in desperation, purchase his life with a barrel of beer! Inside, the first thing that attracts one’s attention is the group of strong-jawed tanners at work on a pile of rawhide. Long ago they dis- pensed with gum chewing in favor of this more satisfying entertainment. Now and then they dip the hide in nearby tubs and let the enzymes take over. The entire process is called “softening.” Pass this classroom quietly, for an exam is in process. The fellow in the dark glasses is suffering from eyestrain. It seems his buddy failed to show.up with the answers. Straight ahead is the unique dunking machine, which, in the midst of a chaotic world, specializes in the creation of soles. Senior tanners are considering the installation of a similar device in the lounge as their parting gift to tired doughnut lovers. Now, if you can get by the bunsen burner fountains used in the “soaking” process, you will be in time to watch the departure of the delegation to the Peerless. They are attending an illustrated lecture en- titled “She Done Me Wrong So I’ll Tan Her Hide.” On your right, a student holding a can of blue paint and an eighteen inch brush is contentedly coloring his leather. Since it is almost closing time, let us forego a visit to the machine which converts mothers-in-law into antique leather bags, and climb onto one of the rafters. There one can safely watch the exit, preceded by a thundering eraser volley of the stalwart tanners. HOME ECONOMICS Fowler Ruth F. Adams Georgia Oldham Elizabeth Bachellor Marie Schimmel Alex Bodea Jeanette Skelton Laureta Halderman Barbara White E. Grace Hanks and William Brandt Louise Brennan Bernadine Custer Henrietta Harman Mary Virginia Howse Rachael Jochimson Esther Langlois Helen Mann Ruth Muroff Viola Isaacs Lois Long Neva Radell Elsie Schiffner Janet M. Schusky’ Enid Spidel Geraldine Sydney-Smith Francis Telsey Elizabeth Cole Tucker Stella Williams Louise Zick HOME ECONOMICS ... ap soos poe eee hie There are the golden-brown doors, reminiscent of the color of well-done biscuits and as delicately textured as those responsible for the sudden disappearance of a flock of pigeons from Pratt Park. Turn one knob or the other, enter, and consult the pocket-size Fanny Farmer for direc- tions. If doubtful, carefully unroll a spool of thread along the way, and you are bound to come out somewhere, boiled, fried, stewed or pickled. What gentle sound is that? Ah, yes, the tinkle of test tubes and the murmur of bacteria contentedly munching on their agar-agar—all except the shy little amoeba suffering from dyspepsia. That slightly green individual under the table is digging up new specimens of mould. While off on this scientific tangent, jot down, in the margins of your Kinsey Report, the P.H. of a bottle of vinegar, a list of registered stills and the specific gravity of a can of peaches. Remember, also, in dealing with a child, nothing can replace psychology. Open his jaws firmly, insert a funnel and empty therein a bottle of orange juice, a can of spinach and a quart of milk. If he fights back, he may grow up to be President. Proceed now to the sixth-floor kitchens. In one of them, a girl in hairnet and apron is hovering over a simmering stew. From time to time, she fans her steaming brow with a pocket edition of Dante (hell, pure hell). Behind her, a fellow student is absorbed in decorating a potholder with a multicolored pattern of sugar roses. He is suddenly interrupted by an emergency call from the cafeteria. Volunteers are needed to dispose of a muffin surplus in Quantity Foods. After the brave souls have rushed out—all two of them—it is safe to move on to the Housing section. Here, one student is designing a closet for the family skeleton, another is learning how to stuff a mat- tress with dollar bills, and a third is refinishing her antique chest. At this point the stairs have probably gotten you, but save that last ounce of strength for pushing through the barricade of pots, pans and Jiffy looms. Beyond is daylight. Cookery! Economy! Costumery! and Lenora Fishman Sister M. Martha Michaela Sister Mary Dominic Mary McCall Norma McCord Helen Trent costume design COOSA (DIOS! (CN oeeee rece nerr aD onGimad Doe gap eos couce It is raining on Ryerson Street. The usual kind of storm, a second Flood with a cyclone behind it. If the observer peers intently through the economy-size raindrops and the fountains of mud arising from the wheels of passing cars, he will discern an approaching procession of strange, silent figures. Within this cavalcade is an infinite variety of fantastic apparel, yet each of its members has the same general appearance. Suspended from the right wrist is a large, round box, either purely functional or imaginatively ornamented with a profusion of dangling threads in several colors and bands of sparkling pins. Beneath the right arm is a roll of thin white paper, which is rapidly becoming longer and longer and longer—whoops! black paper. On the gracefully bent back is a mountain of muslin (get so horribly tired of going to Ben’s every day for five yards). Crowded to the left side of the body, and acting as a balance for the load on the right, are found the famous Mammouth Manila envelope (the “only” paper sleeping bag), a freshly pressed dress en- gaged in a losing battle with the elements, a sleeve board, and a dummy (that’s right, the one that isn’t breathing) . Bringing up the rear of the parade is a friendly elephant named Allah Mode. It has been trained to transport the bales of portfolios, Vogues, Harpers and fur and leather notebooks, for lack of which the dripping crowd would perish. Allah’s trunk is extremely useful in locating nickels at the bottom of handbags when thread and size nine needles must be purchased, and as many as five spring hats may be constructed on his head at once. Gradually the throng files into the brown stone building and dis- perses in the maze of corridors. For a moment there is silence, then the patter of running feet. A wild-eyed damsel has lost a button and is on her way to the Art School for a needle and thread, which may be found in the bottom of almost any cup of coffee. She whizzes past a group of innocents laboring feverishly amid yards of silk, tulle and assorted froufrou. Completion of problem XYZ is synchronized with the opening of April Showers, but, alas, these creations are destined for exhibition and will be returned for use in 1952. Ah, well, weep not, little ones. Back to nature; on to The Field. The form one has may be frightful, but what is the difference if it walks well? All anybody needs is a good foundation and she is sure to fit anywhere, allowing, of course, tour inches to sit down in. and Elizabeth Jennings Joan Landow and Ernest Wingate FOOD MANAGEMENT — Located in the heart of underground Pratt is the distinctively decorated Vermilion Grotto, known to hundreds beneath the sod as the cafeteria. Here, seated at a banquet table, are a group of robust students, chuckling merrily over their meal (he who laughs last laughs best). Beside each plate is a bottle of Yogurt, crawling with goodness, and an automatic calory counter. The dinner is composed of such a wide variety of “un- usual foods,” from first gulp to final belch, that it would be foolhardy to attempt to enumerate them. After drinking a last toast in fermented Blackstrap, the diners rise, file past the cashier to collect their wages and pass on to their classes. All has been managed very well. Upstairs, the more delicate members of the dinner party enter the nutrition class. Through diligent study, they learn how to extract the maximum nourishment from bread and water, the proper method of boiling an old boot to retain its vitamin content, and the most tempting way to serve toadstools to rich Aunt Minnie. In the next classroom, a group of students are collaborating on a kitchen layout. They have succeeded in placing the garbage disposal unit, a goodnatured sow that loves children; but the automatic dishwasher, a graduate in food management, is presenting quite a problem. That shout in the hall indicates the arrival of the members of the last field trip with this month’s provisions in samples. Let us push through the maze of grabbing hands and look in on the psych class. Two students are demonstrating the importance of cooperation among fellow workers. The frothing individual could represent no one but a head chef, and another student, portraying an assistant cook, is stealthily approaching him from behind with a frying pan. Judging from the moans emanating from cost accounting it is unsafe to enter that class, and, anyway, the day is about over. The “managers” begin to file out, white-coated male and striped female. Having lost their appetites forever, they will experience little difficulty in facing the rising cost of food. (Dy : ana at ae ty! = Library School _ Gertrude R. Jasper Elizabeth M. Quier and Rebecca B. Rankin Frank Clark Sayers Grinton I. Will THE LIBRARY SCHOOL— Situated in the heart of the Pratt campus—there, between the curbstones —is the Library. Should the tourist push through its swinging doors for some reason, he would eventually find the Library School; and, if persistent, encounter its students. Librarians, let him be forewarned, are a heterogeneous group, indigenous to Hawaii, Brooklyn and points between. They are skilled in the arts of disguise and camouflage; and can assume at will the characteristics of an artist, a costume designer, an engineer or, with the aid of a multitude of reference books, those of a graceful, though unstable, Roman column. Some of the more adept members of the school have been known to disappear in clouds of smoke. Once inside, the traveler, who was last seen at the beginning of the first paragraph, will receive a kaleidoscopic impression of multi- colored bindings, glass cases, sturdy columns, manila slips, framed masterpieces and typewriter erasers. Although the Pratt Library is characteristically quiet, an undertone of sound may be detected, ema- nating from the private quarters of the Library School. It most closely resembles the click of typewriters, blended with the gentle swish of papers settling into wastebaskets. Behind this sound, within the secret place, the librarian assumes his natural form, places Mudge beneath his arm as a mark of distinction; and proceeds to discuss matters both printable and unprintable. If lost in thought, he is probably reliving the events of a certain spirited Christmas party, which revealed many hidden personalities. Occasionally one may observe a library student slipping out of this intense atmosphere to refresh himself with a cup of coffee, listen to a speaker in the Anne Carroll Moore Room or complete some unfinished excavation in the famous Pratt “mine.” Operations in the mine account for the funereal appearance of some librarians, and explain the trem- ors which startle the unsuspecting readers on the first floor, since none of them are librarians. In passing, Tourist, hope the librarians do, and go on to establish renowned: Good Reading collections. With determination, they may even remember how to read. DEPARTMENT OF STUDENT LIFE— It might be appropriate, at this point, to insert a vivid description of the catacombs in contrast to an equally detailed picture of the City of Light; however, such a paragraph, although filled with dramatic possibilities, would not be exactly accurate and must be foregone. Instead, the reader may use his own imagination to envision life at Pratt minus the Men’s Club, the Lounge, and the broad shoulders of the student counselors, for it has only been within the past six years that these things have come into being. Consider, also, the handy dispensary, open throughout the school day for the distribution of band-aids, cough syrup and the removal of those bits of Brooklyn which inevitably find their way into students’ eyes. If one is feeling mighty low, he can make his way to the Rest House where three days’ free service is offered. Roomless students can locate quarters through the housing registry maintained by the Depart- ment of Student Life. Add to these the Student Loan Fund, the Hand- book, the Prattler, Prattonia, the freshman orientation program, the Foreign Students Counseling Division, the Student Government Associa- tion, inter-faith services, and about eighteen clubs; one now begins to get an idea of the scope of the functions of this important department. Of course, no amount of listing or cataloguing can bring out the most important and real contribution that the Department of Student Life makes: that of helping the student cut across narrow school lines and become more aware of the Institute as a whole, to grow up, get more out of life, accomplish more in his work, and learn the use of pronouns other than “I.” Saul D. Astor George A. Finch Edwin B. Knowles Russell W. Nash Ransom E. Noble, Jr. Roland E. Partridge Herbert I. Schiller Hyman Schmierer and Florence Veniar DIVISION OF GENERAL STUDIES— David K. Spiegel levaal’ Sweet juShenvecdiWeber Wallerian Weeds The newest addition to the Pratt family of varied departments and curricula is the Division of General Studies. Since most of the schools are mainly concerned with imparting tech- nical and professional knowledge, one may be rather puzzled by the use of the term “general.” If the word “information” is substituted for “studies” perhaps the purpose of this department will be clarified; for its faculty strives to inform the student about such matters as literature, social problems and psychology, which are beyond the limits of his specific technical field. The Division organizes and administers these and related subjects as they appear in degree curricula and as electives in other courses. A sharpened awareness of the importance of eliminating one-track thinking in students has resulted this year in the introduction of the liberal arts approach in the departments of Advertising Design, Illustra- tion, Industrial Design and Interior Design, all of which now offer a four-year degree as well as the usual certificate. The Division of General Studies has always played an important part in the life of Pratt, and it will undoubtedly have an even more far- reaching influence in the future. THE PRATTLER— Taking advantage of the charming view of Grand Avenue available on the third floor of the Men’s Club are an industrious group of news- hounds, the Prattler staff. A typical journalistic symphony of clattering keys, jangling phones and editorial explosions not only provides a background for their activities but helps to keep the make-up crew awake during the long, moonlit hours (see you for supper at the Venice at 1:00 A.M.). In addition to covering Institute-wide activities such as dances, sports and lectures, the Prattler checks local events in the various divi- sions of Pratt through special editors assigned to each school. With an assist from faculty adviser Mr. Israel Sweet, the staff has successfully coped with financial difficulties and a shortage of personnel, and has reorganized the newspaper on a more businesslike basis. No simple accomplishment that, when one considers the job undertaken by about thirty-five very busy students, who attempt to keep track of the doings of two thousand others. Not to be neglected in a summary of events pertaining to the Prattler is the participation of some members of the staff in the Pratt “fire.” Not only was the editor responsible for turning in the alarm, but four assistant editors and a columnist were on hand to offer help. H-m-m-m! Seems the paper was without a lead story that week. Another happening of importance in the life of the Pratiler was the termination of business on the Grand Avenue El. For this, the Prattler staff wishes to extend its thanks to the City of New York. The Student Government Association is honoring on these two pages the Seniors who, in the thoughtful opinion of the Student-Faculty Awards Committee, have shown outstanding leadership or given un- usual service. These students made contributions to the welfare of the student body and to the Institute as a whole, and only their major ; j activities can be included in the lists below. ; fa AL AMATO ROBERT ANDERSON RALPH BENSON ROBERT CHRISTENSEN MANFRED WESTHEIMER GEORGE WIESNER ROBERT BEST AL AMATO House Plan ‘48 Sophomore Class Council ‘49 Student Executive Board ‘49, ‘50, ‘51 Vice-President, Junior Class ‘50 Chairman, Publications Committee ‘51 American Society of Mechanical Engineers ‘50, ‘51 April Showers ‘49, ‘50, ‘51 Organized Activity Awards System ‘50 Chairman, Senior Activity Awards Committee ‘50 Recipient, S.G.A. Junior Activities Award ‘50 listed in Who’s Who Among Students in American Colleges and Universities ’51 ROBERT BEST House Plan ‘48, ‘49 Junior Class Council ‘50 Vice-President, Senior Class ‘51 Senior Class Council ‘51 Student Executive Board ‘51 Social Committee ‘50, ‘51 Co-Chairman, Crusade for Freedom Campaign ‘51 April Showers ‘50, ‘51 Senior Activity Awards Committee ‘50 American Society of Mechanical Engineers ‘51 JULIUS CANDELA Winter Festival ‘48, ‘50 Club Fair ‘48 Social Committee ‘49, ‘50, ‘51 April Showers ‘49, ‘51 BERT FREED Eastern Arts Association ‘48, ‘49 Social Committee ‘49 S.G.A. Finance Committee ‘50 S.G.A. Activities Award Committee ‘50, Chairman ‘51 April Showers ‘50 Senior Class Council ‘51 ROBERT ANDERSON April Showers ‘50, ‘51 S.G.A. Social Committee ‘48, Chairman ‘49, ‘50, ‘51 Student Executive Board ‘49, ‘50, ‘51 House Plan ‘48 American Institute of Chemical Engineers ‘48, ‘49, ‘50, ‘51 Recipient, S.G.A. Junior Activities Award ‘50 Listed in Who’s Who Among Students in American Colleges and Universities ‘51 ROBERT CHRISTENSEN Winter Festival ‘49, ‘51 April Showers ‘50, ‘51° Freshman Orientation Committee ‘51 Vice-President, Student Government Association ‘51 Senior Activities Awards Committee ‘50 Recreational Facilities Committee ‘50 Recipient, S.G.A. Junior Activities Award ‘50 GEORGE WIESNER President, Student Government Association ‘51 Co-Chairman, Winter Festival ‘50 House Plan ‘48 Honorary Engineering Association ‘47, ‘48 Junior Class Council ‘50 American Institute of Electrical Engineers ‘46, ‘47 United World Federalists ‘48, President ‘49, ‘50 Recipient, S.G.A. Junior Activities Award ‘50 Recipient, Lovell Award ‘47 Listed in Who’s Who Among Students in American Colleges and Universities ‘51 HONORABLE MENTION ABDON RUBIO Freshman Class Council ‘48 House Plan ‘48 Winter Festival ‘48 Sophomore Class Council ‘49 Junior Class Council ‘50 Glee Club ‘49, ‘50 International Radio Engineers ‘48 American Institute of Electrical Engineers ‘49, ‘50, President ‘51 Secretary-Treasurer, Math Club ‘49, ‘50, President ‘51 April Showers ‘50 Lutheran Club ‘50 Honorary Engineering Association ‘50, ‘51 Prattler ‘51 RALPH BENSON House Plan ‘48 Freshman Class Council ‘48 Student Executive Board ‘48, ‘49, ‘50 Vice-President, Student Government Association ‘49 President, Junior Class ‘50 Chairman, April Showers ‘50 S.G.A. Social Committee ‘48 American Society of Mechanical Engineers ‘50, ‘51 Honorary Engineering Association ‘51 Delegate to National Students Association Convention ‘Ad Recipient, Pratt Engineering Alumni Award ‘51 Recipient, S.G.A. Junior Activities Award ‘50 listed in Who’s Who Among Students in American Colleges and Universities ‘51 MANFRED WESTHEIMER Prattler ‘48, ‘49, ‘51, Editor ‘50 Institute of Radio Engineers ‘48, ‘49, ‘50, ‘51 Radio Club ‘48, ‘49 Math Club ‘50, ‘51 American Institute of Electrical Engineers ‘51 BARBARA MATURA Secretary, Student Government Association ‘51 S.G.A. Finance Committee ‘49, Secretary ‘50 April Showers ‘49, ‘50 Playshop ‘49 ROBERT WOLCOTT United World Federalists ‘49, Vice-President 50), “511 Business Manager, Winter Festival ‘50 Prattler ‘49 Editor, Prattonia ‘51 “9 a ATHLETIC COMMITTEE Harry C. Hostetter Stephen Millard chairman Robert E. Lake William Gorham Khosroy Ajootian Richard Schaeffer PSST Halel CaCO VIVRE EES tN sicia. wisls: = cl Glee. ciao) s.s.0. jodie, Uevslae ee The guiding hand behind the Pratt sports scene is the Athletic Com- mittee, whose duty it is to plan an intercollegiate athletic program consistent with the educational policies of the Institue. The group meets six times a year to consider such necessities as the Athletic Association budget and all varsity schedules. It is the noble effort of these gentle- men which keeps the Pratt athletic program on an even keel; and, in fact, prevents it from falling flat on its face. Harry C. Hostetter George W. Davis Kenneth Pine Selina Silleck Maureen Davidson director of athletics Eleanor Doryck PHYSICAL EDUCATION we Nac ANNEDY VNSIEIBNIIL ba Goa Ofin 000 Go5) BOONDOCNE OCI aetna aEne As Spring rolled around and baseball again took over the sports pages, George Davis began to assemble his Cannoneer squad for the coming season. In this, his sixth year as “Great White Father” of Pratt’s dia- mond destinies, Coach Davis had high hopes for a successful campaign . .. but he’d need a pitcher to replace Hank Quell. Last year’s team was one of the best in Pratt’s history. The Davis- men gave a good account of themselves against the top teams of the Metropolitan Conference. Quell’s no-hit masterpiece against New Jersey State Teacher’s College was the high point of the season. The coach felt that if rookie George Dresing and the veteran fire- baller, Rudy Trevison, lived up to expectations his pitching problems would be solved. He would then have two top-notch starters with Hank Zajac as number one fireman. Lefty Mayer, Haig Goshgarian and George Post, all long-ball hitters, were back this year along with Sal Giglio and Russ Harter. With de- pendable veterans at key spots and a few promising rookies to fill in the gaps, things looked promising. Coach Davis looked forward to the first game with L.I.U. with anticipation and apprehension. If the pitch- ing held up . . . if Connie Wroblewski hit in the games as he did in practicers crilky «y=: BASKETBAUD is. cca s.cuateolite lop eosin teste ee ene aaee eee This year’s cage squad ran into more trouble than a Cadillac in a Canal Street traffic jam. Ken Pine began his first season as Pratt coach with a starting team of holdovers that averaged under 5'11” in height. In present day basketball, even the small men on most teams stand over six feet tall. The Cannoneers won only four games throughout the 1950-51 season; but the few faithful followers who came out to the games saw a hustling, hard-fighting team that played right down to the wire. Pine’s main headache, aside from the height problem, was to find a couple of ballplayers who could score consistently. Sal Giglio, finishing his last year at Pratt with a flourish, carried most of the burden alone. Of the other seniors on the squad—Howie Bonington, Don Kennedy, Russ Harter and Captain Bob Welz—only “Bonny” came close to regis- tering a consistant scoring punch. At mid-season, Pine brought up a few of the taller men from the J.V.: “Konny” Von Appen, Orville Harrold, Stan Schneiderman, George Lois, Bruce Newman and Bill Bucket. Their combination of height and speed, plus this year’s experience, should (Uncle Sam permitting) make for a winning basketball team next year. Howard Sleight, after starring on the 1948 and 49 Pratt soccer teams, took over the coaching reigns this season and led the Cannoneers through a very successful campaign. Their record belies their prowess. Of five losses, two were by one point. Another was dropped by a score of 3 to 1 to Brooklyn College, one of the finest soccer teams in the country. On the brighter side, the Cannoneers, captained by Walt Cohen, trounced a hapless Queens Col- lege eleven, topped Fort Schuyler with a little trouble, and eked out a one point victory over a powerful King’s Point squad. Mac Greenidge, star fullback, who had been mentioned for All-American honors was called into the service after the third game. Roland Von Rebay, a Euro- pean import, is a good bet for All-American next year. Since the inauguration of soccer as a varsity sport three years ago, the Pratt booters have been improving with each season. With only three members of the team graduating this year, Pratt should be able to start a big, fast, and experienced squad next fall. TENNIS PARE ore Gt. EA Goo ting Ga Ooh pay oe Varsity tennis at Pratt moved into the third year of its recent history with pretty good prospects for a successful season. Tennis was discon- tinued at Pratt in 1928 when the five courts became the site of the Engi- neering Building. Since resuming, the Pratt racquet-teers, under coach Harry Hostetter, have compiled a respectable record. Last year, with little time for practice, the Pratt net-men won three and tied one out of ten matches played. Walter Schnyder, Harry Twitchell, Richard Jessup and Robert Zinter are returning to pace this year’s squad; and with a few freshmen who have had previous experience, the Cannoneers can look forward to a taste of victory. UINTTRUANUIUIRUAL, SIRO) RS) Gao foo a aeeaoc: Gorim postu nlooe Ianmrenogt Intramural sports at Pratt this year offered a vast program for class competition, starting with touch football in the fall and continuing through baskeball, softball, table tennis, handball and volleyball. The engineers and artists took a back seat to the architects this year, with Arch. II beating out Arch. III for the football title, and Arch. I upsetting Arch. II for basketball honors. Intramural basketball had a total of twenty-four teams competing in three leagues .. . a record num- ber of participants. Coach Davis expected an equally large turnout for the softball competition. y er ih Cs GIRLS’ SPORTS— The gym is the place where the wearin’ o’ the green, at least in regard to Pratt females, is not limited to St. Patrick’s Day. There, any gal, whether she is an artist, a home economist or an engineer (take a bow, Miss Carnahan), may also discover that fun is equally free from rationing. The guiding spirits of the establishment, the Misses Selina Selleck, Eleanor Doryk and Maureen Davidson, not only give instruc- tion in class, but provide a friendly atmosphere in which a person can relax, talk out problems, borrow sneakers to replace those left at home or partake of some Hallowe’en candy. Where sports are concerned, the emphasis is on learning to play for enjoyment, not to make the next Olympic Team. Those who are defi- nitely inclined towards athletics, however, find that the technical aspects of a game are by no means neglected. Activities this year included field hockey, basketball, softball, volleyball, swimming, body mechanics, life saving, badminton, fencing, riding, and both modern and folk dancing. Some innovations were a beginners’ class for people who absolutely could not swim, a basketball club, and an advanced swimming class, featuring such activities as ra cing and rhythmic formation swimming. The latter class was held at the Brooklyn Y. W. C. A. Another new development concerning girls’ athletics at the Institute was Pratt’s attendance at sports events conducted by the New York State Athletic Federation of College Women. Those in the Federation meet at each of its member colleges three times a year, and at every meeting attend clinics and hold competitions in a certain sport. The Federation provides girls with the opportunity to visit other colleges, make new friends, learn, play, and have fun. ee. NL a GLEE CLUB— It’s rather unlikely that the Met will offer to audition every member, but those who make the bi-weekly trip to Memoria! Hall are certainly going to get their lungs full of music and-have a darn good time in the process. Here is the opportunity to find that fourth for a quartet, learn all the verses about the gal with the roving eyes and “ring-a-lets,” or meet someone who does know the difference between Piazza and pizza. Dr. Lawrence Perry is always around to provide stimulating direction, keep in line the eager individuals who want to make a solo out of every performance, and see to it that everyone doesn’t collapse at the same time during those long, sustained phrases. This year, the club has made a special effort to include longer and more dramatic compositions in its repertoire. “Porgy and Bess” was equipped with backdrops furnished by the industrial design depart- ment, and “Down in the Valley” included spoken as well as sung dialogue. Naturally, Christmas festivities would have been incomplete without the annual free concert given by the gleemen. It included, as always, plenty of good, old-fashioned audience participation. THE ‘(PEAYSHOP sz... -22eytiec, cciectas) tenes PR EaCr eee mer meets A cat may have nine lives, but the average Pratt student would probably rather own two heads and ten hands. The necessary grafting is, at the moment, medically impossible; but one may easily acquire a subdivided personality by joining the Pratt Playshop. Membership in this group enables the individual to safely impersonate Napoleon, the Queen of Sheba or Julius Caesar, and provides him with a valid excuse for talk- ing to himself (just running over my lines, you know). At four o’clock on Friday afternoon, the Thespians may be found at play on the stage of Memorial Hall. Jack Aureli momentarily forsakes his tripod and transit to act as president while John Manley and Fred Wallin assume the roles of veep and director. Dr. Edwin C. Knowles offers valuable advice as faculty advisor. This year, the “theater season” opened with three one-act plays, “A Game of Chess”, “Fumed Oak”, and “Potboilers”. “The Philadelphia Story”, which was the Playshop’s major production, provided lots of fun for both the members of its cast and their audience on the evenings of March 2nd and 3rd. The first act of “Murder in the Cathedral” by the popular T. S. (“The Cocktail Party”) Eliot was used by the Play- shop as their annual production for the Pratt English Department. Onlookers are still wondering how and where the “shoppers” found the time to learn their roles, construct scenery, locate costumes and prop- erties, and take care of makeup, publicity, and programs. ACKNOWLEDGMENT— Space does not permit us to list individually the countless contributors of time and talent without whose generous assistance Prattonia °51 could never have gone to press. However, each knows who he is and, if we have not done so personally, we take this opportunity to express our appreciation and thanks. We are especially grateful to Miss Mary L. Wolfe, our faculty adviser; to Mr. George Rubens and Delma Studios of Brooklyn, who did the senior portraits; and to Mr. David Miller and Strathmore Press of New York, who published this yearbook. Prattonia 51 wishes to take this opportunity to express, for itself and for every member of the Class of 1951, sincere sympathy to the families of two who are no longer among us. Mr. Konrad F. Wittmann—since 1941 head of the Department of Interior Design, respected and admired by all who knew him—died suddenly on April 16, 1951. Mr. Richard Bohan—who would have been a senior in I]lustration—met an untimely death on August 19, 1950. Dick was a boy of tremendous talent and zealous personality. Both were integral members of the Pratt family and both have left “a lonesome place against the sky.” DENTAEOAGMAAMOAORSCQUGEAOH40 Ag RUD A ROADOGAR GOA DRED Rese UDG OSD aR SSE Th akin dest! Sanaa caer Bit, ii il) i es en AT savy ta