Providence Technical High School - Review Yearbook (Providence, RI)

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60 THE TECH REVIEW

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1928 THE TECH REVIEW BARBARA LOUISE WRIGHT “Bobby” came to Tech four years ago and has won the friendship of students and teachers. A social is never complete unless it is favored by her presence. “Hoppy” and “Bobby” are a perfect interpretation of that song “Side by Side.” Barbara does not care for any particular subject but takes a great interest in them all. She thinks she would like to go to Leslie, but “Bobby” wears a fraternity pin and so we are not sure which will win her. Which ever it may be. we wish her the greatest success and happiness. Glee Club, '24, '25, '28; Cheer Leader. '28: Student Dance Committee, '28; Social Committee of the Dramatic Club, '28. 59 ESTHER FANNIE YANKU “Who is that girl with the dark hair and bright eyes who sits in the 2-14 Home Room?” Why, of course, it is Esther. Esther has been with us four years, and during that time has made many friends. Since she is such a fine dancer, she has won several dance prizes. Her favorite subjects are domestic art, millinery and dressmaking. Next fall, some dressmaking school may be honored with Esther’s presence and in a short time we hope to hear of Esther as a first class fashionable dressmaker and milliner. Our best wishes go with you, Esther. Art Club, ’27. LOUIS OLIVER CLASS PHOTOGRAPHER FOR 1928

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1928 THE TECH REVIEW 61 Backward Ho! By Willie and Max Ten thousand years ago one of Cleo- patra's suitors who was considered “no- body's fool said, “It takes all kinds of fish to fill an aquarium. In June, 1924, a matter of four years ago, keepers of the Small Aquariums de- cided to send the most developed of us fish into deeper water after more food (for thought). In September of the same year, we had to desist from our gambol- ings in the green (elementary) aquariums and betake ourselves to the Greater Aquarium termed “Tech. Here we were destined to remain four years. The first day was a dark horse (nightmare of course). We were evidently all con- sidered sardines, for we were packed into boxes (class rooms) air tight, having for oil soft words from fisher men and fisher women called home room teachers. We did many things wrong and, sad to re- late, some of us provoked the anger of our first Home Room Teacher on our first day of school. We floundered about the corridors, our fins interlocked and were prodded by Swordfish (Sopho- mores). A disappointing initiation no doubt but you must remember we were only little fish! Nevertheless, we were not depressed by the strangeness of the state of affairs and immediately formed the opinion—“Well, this ain’t so bad.” Ah! but that was uttered in our foolish ignorance. In the days that followed, we did so many strange and silly things and saw so many strange and—(oh, dear) faces that our minds were in a turmoil (they still are). Some fisher men mis- took us for shrimp and tried to make us wiggle. We swam wearily through a maze of books, the titles of which have long since been dimmed by Time's ever - moving finger. In our second year we became better acquainted with the “Principal Fisher- man (Mr. Manchester) who has been a friendly, noble guide and who has kept us out of shallow water. There was con- siderable excitement precipitated in the Lunch Room which resulted from the knowledge that we were cannibals partak- ing of Brother Salmon with much relish. (But then he always was the “pink sheep of the family!) The contents of books and more books were packed inside us, that is studied, picked to pieces, discussed, finished, and promptly forgotten. It’s wonderful how we took out the inside of books—just looked hard at them and the words came right up through our eyes into our minds. Yes, we had minds; in fact several of us had become sharks and knew a whale of a lot. Ho hum! Two years to go. The third scholastic year was the be- ginning of the end (those afore-men- tioned last two years, of course). In that year we dived into the society life of this school of fish in the form of our first class social. The Debutantes were there; and the inevitable Lobsters dressed beyond recognition, were “sitting tight” like barnacles on the side of a rock. This condition prevailed until the Turtles who chaperoned, acted as catalytic agents and mixed us, with the aid of some good dance music rendered by “Peter Pick- erel’s Orchestra as a stirring rod. A good time was had by all even the clams, especially when the refreshments were served, for the dancers melted away like fried ice, and talk and laughter were