Roxbury Memorial High School for Girls - Laurel Yearbook (Boston, MA)

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1944 To Miss Connors, we leave a lemon tree to be sweetened by her pleasant disposition. To Miss Hicks, we leave a never-ending sum of money so that she may show all her girls the art of the world. To Miss Matson, we leave a fraternity pin as a secret pact between her and her sixth period French class of 1943. To Miss Ryan, Miss Clifford, and Miss Powers, we leave one hundred sixty new typewriters with blank keyboards so that the girls may have no fear of looking at the keys. To Miss Nash, we leave an executive position in Washington with forty secretaries, graduates of you know where. To Mr. Shea, we leave a radio with an international hook-up so that all the world may hear his charming and romantic voice. , To Mrs. Hession and Dr. Butler, we leave a modern, well-equipped lab- oratory and operating room to handle the How of severe headaches and upset stom- aches so common during school hours. To Miss Bullard, we leave an exclusive Fifth Avenue Shoppe vacated by Lilly Dache and sought for by John Fredericks. Here she may display her famous originals, previewed in our class play, I Have Five Daughters. To Mr. Daly, we leave a new set of pin-up girls for his supply room. To Miss Chapin, we leave an appointment as chief chef in Buckingham Palace in order to prove to the world what we in Memorial already know-that her food is Ht for a king. To Miss Estabrook, Miss Johnson, and Miss Cogan, we leave four hun- dred thousand linoleum squares to be used to inlay a new floor for skating at the Gar- dens. To Miss Connell and Miss Hartnett, our pleasant secretaries, we leave a secretary who will remain throughout the school year. To the Class of 1945, we leave our desks, somewhat antiquated by former drawings but with surrealist touches by the Class of 1944. To the Class of 1946, we leave war stamps and bonds, Christmas decora- tions, nfty-cent dues, and all the joys that the Junior year will bring them. To the Class of 1947, we leave the bright hopes needed after leaving so dark, gloomy, and foreboding a basement as ours. To the Class of 1948, we leave three floors, each a maize of winding cor- ridors and locker rooms, one thousand majestic upper classmen, and homerooms only four paces from the lunch room. Finally, to the school, to teachers, to each and everyone, to lower classmen and everyone associated with our school, to all, WE LEAVE! Given in the executive mansion of Her Majesty, Insanity, in the Memor- ial Recuperation Hospital, on this day Monday, February 28, 1944. Signed X CClass of 19445 VVitnessed by: Ann Onymous Dr. Psycho Pathic O. B. Quiet Attested by: Marcia Kalus 'I47 lr

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THE LAUREL To Miss Ward, we leave an Old English printing machine, a poor sub- stitute for her own Fine work, but a time saver. To Miss Forrest, we leave one dozen, standard size, traHic signals to be placed at each landing. To Miss Scott, we leave a bevy of girls to be stationed at various patrols every period of each day. ' To Miss Austin, we leave an automatic comptometer to add up the final total of the Scholarship Play proceeds. To Miss VVhiting, we leave a halo so that people may know her for the angel she is. To Miss Anthony, we leave a bunch of carrots to make up part of the deficit caused by some hungry biologists. To Miss Corkery, we leave a class that is always ready for the unex- pected opportunity. To Mr. Denvir, we leave a two column space on page one of a Boston newspaper for him to write anything he pleases. To Mr. Conway, we leave a record album of the Three B's,' with poeti- cal footnotes by Milton, Tennyson, and Browning. To Dr. Delano, we leave a new laboratory since we ruined the old one by mixing the soul invention of the Class of ,44. To Miss Rowlinson, we leave saddles and ankle socks so that the new sophomores will be stumped as to just who is the teacher. To Miss McCauley, we leave four two-celled atoms to be dissected by the more nimble-fingered biologists. To Miss Hayes, we leave a dozen ''handsome''microscopes to magnify those Ustunningu hemoglobins. To Miss Fallon, we leave our shoe ration stamps that her shoes may continue to complement her costumes. To Miss Brown, we leave a reservation for herself and forty students at a choice VVashington hotel. We're sorry, but the soonest reservation is for 1955. To Miss Hall and Miss Cromwell, we leave six electric light bulbs to brighten the third floor corridor. To Miss Cutter, we leave our special victory garden consisting entirely of legumes. To Miss Bowers, we leave a class of girls who appreciate her knack of giving good advice concerning difficult problems. To Miss Scena, we leave a year when her classes are comprised of fresh- men, sophomores, and juniors and no noisy seniors. To Miss Goudreault, Miss Foristall and Mrs. Moriarty, we leave a class of girls with the ideas of Schiaperelli, the brains of Nettie Rosenstein, and the figure of Lana Turner. To Miss Bishop, we leave our love and best wishes for a speedy recovery and a bright future. To Miss C. McCarthy, we leave our admiration for her cheerful dispo- sition. To Miss Regan, we leave a class of Joel Kuppermans. To Miss Coolidge, we leave a class of ten girls, eleven easy chairs, and a long hour each week to discuss her favorite topic-Current Events. 'l46l

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THE LAUREL Class Poem In that spell, they built their world, visionary golden worldi Ignorant of gathering clouds, heedless of the brewing storm Till unchecked in rage it broke, strained against its bonds, a Unleashed torrents bent on plunder, Tearing limb from limb asunder, Sweeping upheaved earth from under, Panic! Tempest! Thunder! War! Yesterday our parents dreamed, little wispy golden dreams Today we light, and silver wings the sky, And guns spell Fire and death, and bullets fly, And all the worldls a madman's dream of fame, Blackened with smoke and rosy-gold with flame. And yet, from ruins smouldering at our feet, Half formed plans and visions rise to greet The light, like budding wild flowers not full blown With staunch and sturdy roots that anchor down The frail blossoms in the rich moist earth, Strong, despite the wind and rain and dearth Of care, they bloom in valor one by one, And turn their faces towards the rising sun. Tomorrow is ours. It merges today, Its concrete endeavor, its workable clay With yesterday's visions and reverenced shrines To fashion with judgment the future's design, A pattern of life that will not destroy The fruits of creation-man's right to enjoy His gardens and speeches and picnics and ball, The white hush of winter, the crispness of fall, The freedom of mind and of body and soul, The splendor of living, the loftier goal, Beyond mere existence, of living each day To fullest extent in the happiest way, The triumph ofjustice, the promise of peace- These are man's heritage, this is his lease On life, with its sceptre of infinite hope, A radiant vista with unending scope For joy in creation, for liberty's rule, A pathway of progress, an unfailing tool For building anew, for fashioning dreams With rosy gold linings and rock-bottom seams. And man will be governed by Heavenls own laws And harvest the fruits of his labor, because Tomorrow is ours. -Helen Wiseman l48l nd hurled