Roger Ludlowe High School - Fairfieldiana Yearbook (Fairfield, CT)

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. of Heaven. THEBEE 31 MICI-IAEL KULIKOWSKI, College! Col- lege! HARVEY LOOMIS, The Kiss That YOu've Forgotten. CHARLES MOCKLER, Tired, BERT MEDVE, Hello! I've Been Look- ing For You. VINCENT MUNTHE, Got the Bench! Got the Park. But In Haven't Got You. EDWARD MURPHY, When Irish Eyes Are Smiling. LOUIS OLAH, Mistakes SIGURD PETERSON, Asleep in the Deep. KENNETH PLANCON, Roses of Yes- terdayf' BENJAMIN PLOTKIN, The Lost Chord. WALTER REDEIELD, Give me a Mo- ment, Please. VITO RODGERS, Laugh, Clown, Laugh. BRANDON SHAW, Love is Like That. CLAYTON STEELE, Louise. GEORGE WILLIAM STEVENS, Bend Down, Sister. STICKNEY, I'll Ballyhoo You. SUBELSKI, Should I? TOTH, Life is Just a Bowl of Cherries. ARD TREMBLAY, Sittin' in a Cor- ner. ANNA ADAMS, Why Dance? LILLIAN ANDERSON, Sweet and Love- Y! ly BENITA BELDEN, Put That Sun Back in the Sky. BEATRICE BLASKY, I ApOlOgize. DOROTHY BOLLES, Dark Eyes. VIVIENNE BOUSQUET, Coquette. MARGARET BROWN, Prisoner of Love. MARION BROWN, Truly I Love You. MARY CALVIN, Pm Smiling the Whole Day Through. MILDRED CARLSON, Millie RUTH CATHCART, Horses! Horses! Crazy Over Horses! ELIZABETH CLARKE, I Wouldn't Change You For the World. ANNA COLLINS, What Would You Do? MARY COLLINS, Tell Tales. DORIS CUNNINGHAM, Daisies Won't Tell. BETTY DALE, When Johnny Comes Home ! i DODDS, Singing In the DOMONKOS, Rememloer. DUNBAR, Oh! What a Thrill! DUTKO, Where the Blue of the Night. ESTHER EVERTS, Would You Like to Take A Walk. PAULINE GALLA, Imagination RUTH GARDELLA, Tell Me. JOSEPHINE GILL, All of Me. LUCILLE GODFREY, Time Will Tell. HELEN GRAY, Save the Last Dance For Me. MILDRED HOFFMAN, I'm Sorry, Dear. CAROLYN HRABOVSKY, Somebody's Waiting For Me. PANNA. HULL, How Long Will It Last? HELEN HULL, Kiss by Kiss. ISABELLA IACOVELLI, Srnilin' Thru. CATHERINE JACOBY, Pd Love to Build a Love Nest With You? MARY JURACKA, What'll I Do? KATHERINE KAECHELE, YOu'll Get All That's Coming to You. SARAH FRANCES KNEPP, Stay out of the South. ELEANOR KNIGH 3 'ii M Her Golden gair ,Was xg I own Her ack. ' , , ' JOSEPHINE KNO ' if it ght. EMMA KULCSAR I ag e! Floweret. DOLOZRIES LOREN , 5 . , You Funny Ing. 'A U, , 1.-. HELEN LUKACS ' : ' n Moon. HELEN MARSH ,W t Roll Along Having M d Downs. IDA MATZ, Alw f' A11 Ways. EDYTHE MCKNIGHT, 'Leven Pounds CATHERINE MELLISH, Me and the Man in the Moon. MARIE MOSSOP, WhO'S Your Little Whosis'? MILDRED NOVAK, Around the Corner and Under a Tree. CAROLYN NOY, Smiles EDITH OLSON, Just a Little Ray of Sunshine. EMILY O'NEILL, One Alone. FRANCES PADDOCK, Sitting in the Movies. 5 ELEANOR PALLO, Sleepy Town Ex- press. HELEN PECEYNE, Blondie, ANNETTE PEDERSON, You Must Come Over Tonight. DOROTHY PETERSON, Just Friends. IRIS PROVOST, Old Pals. HELEN RESSLER, Good-night Sweet- heart. MARIE SALvo, Of Thee I Sing. DOROTHY SAUER, Sing Me the Song That Never Grows Old. DOROTHY SCHIPIOR, One Hour With You. U

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io I I FMAM T iH EBE-E ' complished by MISS JOSEPHINE GILL. After nine and one-half un- successful attempts, MISS GILL finally climbed Mt. Everest, the high- est mountain in the world. Her suit was planned by MISS MILDRED HOFFMAN, designer of climbing suits. MISS IRIS PROVOST, toe dancer, announces' the opening of her studio in aesthetic dancing. All ages and sizes are acceptable. Low rates, plen- ty of exercise and fresh air. ,Stmgs MR. SWAFFIELD, When I was up in Montpelier- MRS. KENDALL, She's writing a new psychology book. MR. WEBSTER, Ask him-he can quote it. MISS KNIGHT, When she snaps her fingers- MISS MCLAUGHLIN, Let's see what Webster has to say. MRS. BUTTRICK, How does she teach so many subjects? MISS SPENCER, It is more blessed to give than to receive. MISS ELLIS, Up-side-down. MRS. WHITTAKER, What would we do without her? MISS WRIGHT, Let's stop talking now. MISS SCULLY, And she calls us fra- gile hot-house flowers! MISS SAWIN, I wish I had no nerves. MRS. COSTLOW, You laugh when I laugh. MISS MASSE, Furnishing footnotes for Mrs. Kendall's book. MISS SHUMANN, A smile will go a long, longgway. MISS DONALDSON, A book is the key to knowledge. MISS JOHNSON, Mr. SwafIield's right hand man. MISS BULKELEY, That schoolgirl complexion. MR. HARPER, When I'm President- MR. SLEIGLE, Lookout when he gets that Plymouth past the first 1000 miles. MR. WHITTAKER, Half-master of the torture chamber. MRS. SLATTERY, High pressure sales- manship. MR. DEAN, Work for the night is coming! MRS. CLARK, As to the common cold- MISS SMITH, Every chain is only as strong as its weakest link. MISS HALL, Her wit is like a tiny sharp hook dangling to catch where it may. MRS. STILSON, The King's English. MISS SANFORD, Strong and steady as an anchor. MISS WANER, A sweet heroine. ongs FRED AHLBIN, Just a Gigolo. PAUL ARDELL, My Best Girl. MICHAEL BELOBLOSKY, She .Didn't Say Yes. gl-IARLESU BIRO, Beyond the Blue OTIZOIL EDWARD BOGUCKI, Two Loves Have EIDMUIFD BORCK, You're My Every- t ing. FRANK BRITTINGHAM, Time and Place for MARTIN CARVAN, Honey if You Knew. STEPHEN CHEHY, You Rascal, CHARLES CHEVALIER, What a DOUGLAS CoLE, When Nobody Else is Around. WILLIAM DOMONKOS, Wandering Willie. GEORGE DUBIE, Pals of the Little Red Schoolhouse. DAVID EARLE, Just Been Wonderin'. RAY DoUGLAS EDWARDS, I'1l get by. DERZO FEHER, Nobody's Sweetheart Now. FREDERICK FISH, Football Freddie. FRANCIS EDWARD FLANAGAN, Blaze Away. FRANCIS GALLAGHER, Fm a Dreamer, Aren't We All? HENRY GANSER, Pm Forever Blow- ing Bubbles. PHILIP GANSER, Pm Only Guess- ing. NORMAN GAYNOR, Was That the Hu- man Thing To Do? JOHN GLEASON, There's Something in Your Eyes. KARL HEDBERG, Garden of Smiles. CHARLES HOMER, Still 1 JOHN HORVAT, You Call it but I Call it Love. WILLIAM HULL, Just Like a EMIL JAHODA, Little Boy Blue ALFRED KIRALY, Blue Skies. JOHN Korcso, My Women.

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-PQV' ' J., Q' W 'Ly ,nz 32 T H E B E E FREDDA SHEPHERD, Sweet be Thy The unconquerable, unavoidable Dreams. death is quiet. He is too great, too JESSAMINE SHIVELY, Little Things V0lL11g1ig1QuS for merghsound. Lfzt me ' L'f ,H pam 1S PIC ure. I opm, pae ye In I e fi still inspired, half reclines in a mas- MARgiEg?1g?9N' 1L0Vet0HeafY0u sive chair before his beloved but ' H , , now fading piano, his hands linger- KATli?ggIiE SW0RDSv Llttle White ing on the voiceless keys. The win- IDA TIPPING, Love En Masque. HELEN TRANBERG, Guilty. JANE TRUPP, Call Me Darling. MARY TURCZI, If I Had a Talking Picture of You. IRENE VOJAKOVICS, Lovable. JANE-W:1INRIGHT, Say It With Mu- s1c.' INEZ Wmrworvru, Dream Lover. MARY JANE WILSON, Bye Bye Blues. MARTHA WOLD, Love's Old Sweet Song. BEVERLY WYNUS, The Sweetest Story Ever Told. ,Silence How many of the most critical de- cisions and moments in our lives can be met with silence alone? What an imperative force silence is. Though unobstructive, yet it is indispensable. Some of the greatest movements which take place in this world of ours are conceived and brought to pass in silence. Consider this very universe. Con- sider the vast illimitable stretch of space, ever beyond. Phoebus in his fiery chariot rises from the brink of the sea with flowers of glory for the sunrise, and sinks again to the purple waters of the west at dusk, flaunting vermilion, gold, and sea- blue streamers across the pale star- flecked sky, the moon pours the lights of her great searching fiashlight across the slmbering world. This intimate yet mysterious pro- cess of growing - what is it? Why d-o we not hear the wonderful de- velopment of a most minute rounded seed into a towering lofty pine? Why ,do we not hear the growth of our souls? Why did not Lincoln hear applause at the close of that inspir- ingly great speech of his? Because it was sacrilege to break the most perfect tribute which can be paid to such magnificent truths-silence. dow is open. Death, a dark undis- tinguishable form, creeps over the sill. All is still. In that moment of silence comes a great crisis, the theft of a life-Death without sound. The snow, the mountains, serene, majestic in their rugged strength and beauty, mountains where that vast solitude is kingg that Gift of Heaven, so beautifully expressed in the old carol, How silently, how silently, the wonderous gift is giveng So God imparts to human hearts, the blessings of His Heaven, -is not si- lence the instrument of all these? Great composers, Bach, Chopin, Beethoven, were driven by a force from within. Deep, deep inside them the tiniest essence of their messa to man was created, in the solit of their souls. As they would p der and brood over this, it would pand and grow until spreading gantic wings it at last soared through their whole existence as the music which they have handed down to the ages. Scott, an English com- poser and author, has attributed the growth of civilization to various types of music. Beethoven, he says, is the cause of the whole system of psychoanalysis: Chopin of refinement and cultureg Handel of the Victorian Ageg Bach of intellectualism. If this is so, and those of us familiar with their music can easily under- stand it, then think what tremen- dous social reforms have taken place because of the tiniest seeds of feeling, conceived in silence! Why are some of the aspects of modern life so corrupt, so perpet- ually jangling with discord? Is it not because the grind of this Ma- chine Age, the harsh unmusical clang of the Jazz Era press so un- relentingly that no time for quiet thought is available? Perhaps W n this rushing age has been compl people will revert to leisure-ly once again, but meanwhile, can we do about it? Nothing are making history. JE'SSA4MINE SHIVELY, 32