Princeton University - Nassau Herald Yearbook (Princeton, NJ)

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N Class Prophecy NORMAN ARMOUR People often make the mistake of assuming that prophesying and lying are synonymous with one another. This mistake undoubtedly arose through the fact that the ,Princetonian weather report is known as a prophecy, instead of which it should be called by Ha- shorter and uglier name. Exactly where the subtle distinction between the two lies, I am not prepared to state, but perhaps I can illustrate it. If, for example, I were to predict that some time in the near future Fat Cauldwell should refuse a mint julep, or Spud Auerbach work himselfpto death, or Hewitt Reynolds die of starvation, that would't be prophesying, it would be lying. It is with mingled feelings, therefore, that I realize I have been delegated to deliberately dissolve the pipe dreams that various ones among the sea of happy faces that I see before me Cto cull a phrase from the Nassau Litj have formed for the future. Sam Shellabarger never wrote a truer line than that which has become the motto of our glorious class: Where ig- norance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise, or, as Doc Smith has paraphrased it: If a man enjoys being dumb, what in hell's the use of trying to be a smart guy ? I-Iowever, all this is neither here nor there, as Al Little remarked, when he lost his vest in Baltimore on the basketball trip. Our business has to do with the future, not with the past, so, discarding Nash Matthews, let us proceed into the realms to come. Cn one of those hot, sweltering days in the latter part of May, I was strolling down to the Varsity field to watch St. Yves practicing for his Marathon race with Bill McGee, scheduled for July. Cn the way I met Chick Turner, who was bubbling ove-r with the latest piece of college gossip. I-Ie said that Roy Dickinson was to succeed Mr. Bunn as Curator of Grounds 27

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The Nassau Herald reliance, undaunted courage. Relying on these teachings, prof- iting by mistakes of the past, we are prepared to meet the sterner responsibilities of the future with confidence and strength. But during the lull of life's battle, while the roll of drum is hushed, let us not forget the debt of gratitude we owe the mother who has fostered and nourished us during all these years. We are proud of her material and intellectual progress, of her wealth and beauty, but prouder still of her ideals, her teachings, proud of her tremendous influence in the building of this nation, in the betterment of mankind. Wise hands are carefully moulding her future destiny, a destiny that will con- tain the characteristics of our highest hopes and desires. If I should prophecy that future, Sydney Carton like of old, I would see Princeton foremost university of the world, leader in the new thought, new culture and new democracy, I see new customs, new traditions framed on the destruction of the old to meet the ,changing tendencies, I see a class of men go forth each year strong in character, in purpose and in intellectg but I see no class go forth as yet more enthusiastic than the present, more proud of its Alma Mater or more loyal to those future aims in which it hopes to share. Unfortunately, the hand of fate has deprived many members of that pleasure. Some of those classmates who cheered from the old gym, who fought with us shoulder to shoulder the night of the rush, are missing to-day, sharing neither our heri- tage nor our feeling of satisfaction. An all-wise Providence has called several to Himself 5 the rest have fallen by the way- side in the race for knowledge and experience. We who have run the good race, who have passed the Greek and Calculus of the curriculum, are now to be rewarded with the University certificate, a token of work well done. When we view that cherished parchment let us dwell for a moment upon the memory of the missing and those who have gone to their reward. Our thoughts will wander to those freshman days when we were all united beneath the shadow of Old Nassau, within the pealing radius of her bell working zealously for Princeton and 1909. 26

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The N assau H erald and Buildings. Roy had been chosen partly because of his extensive knowledge of century plants, and also because of his fluency in the lingo of the American Dago. We arrived at the field just in time to see Charlton Henry and Charlie Coxe emerge in running clothes, rejoicing like strong men to run a race. Having tied for the best legs, they had decided to settle the matter once for all. Frank Cunning- ham had been chosen to act as the modern Paris, because of his great sense of humor. He is one of the reputed authors of the Bicker-bird, which at once entitles him to a place in the Who's who among the fun-makers. After some delib- eration Frank presented the golden apple to Charlton, claiming that while Charlie's extremities might give him the advantage in the long run, Charlton's legs enabled him to look down on the rest of mankind, which was too great an advantage to be overlooked. In his disappointed rage, Coxe aimed a huge piece of Peter's chocolate at Cunningham's head, which flew wild and hit me in the eye. I remembered nothing more. I was awakened by a terrible noise right beside me. It sounded like Doc Riddle ordering another round. Lying in the middle of the road I discovered a huge machine, with an enormous pair of wings, that lay flapping like some great disabled bird. My lirst thought was that Eddie Booth had' gone crazy, and, thinking he was an angel, was trying to fly. On examining the creature more closely, I discovered it to be' an aeroplane. Prostrate beneath it, apparently dead to the- world, lay none other than Josh Brush, our honored Secretary. Somewhat brought to my senses by the sight of josh in such a characteristic attitude, I dragged him forth and demanded an explanation. I-Ie looked much older, and there was a grave- expression on his face that we are accustomed to associate with men who take life seriously, like Shorty Plaut and' Tommie Tomlinson. VVith that inborn Egyptian politeness, that never torsook him, Josh invited me to accompany him in a joy ride. Remembering the fatal end of Lieut. Selfridge in Wright's machine only last year, I hesitated, at the same time- explaining why. Where in the name of Earl T. Holsapplee have you been in the last thirty years? ejaculated Josh. 28