Schuylerville Central School - Schuyler Yearbook (Schuylerville, NY)

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THE CLASS HISTORY Well here we are seniors at last. How many times during our school career did we repeat that ever popular phrase “just wait ’til we’re up there.” We’ve reached our goal. We can look back to kindergarten days of “abc’s,” blocks, crackers and milk, with a grin or a chuckle, for we’ll never see them again. It was not an unusual sight to see a new pupil added to our class each year and indeed he was welcome. It didn’t take him long to be part of the “gang.” Fun was what our class always loved—jokes, slang, and jitterbugging. All this has been in our generation and we have made the most of it. Oh, we know we ve been a little too extreme at times, but “kids will ba kids.” Remembering first grade is rather hard, but most unforgetable were the pictures Miss Northrup drew on the board. Each morning we clamored in they were the first items that caught our eye. The arithmetic in second grade; thrift club and half holidays in third, fourth, and fifth, were exciting to us. Little things happened during those banner snatch ng years that make us stop to reminisce. Maybe you remember how in sixth grade you worried about geography or spelling as we did. Now' our worries mount up to bigger things, and what we thought were troubles then become samples at present. Social Studies were introduced in seven'h grade which were a little complicated at first, but we soon overcame the difficulties and even soared through regents in eighth grade with flying colors. Some thought they wouldn’t be freshmen, but as you can see we’re still together. Our freshman year was the beginning of the stampede of non-resident students. Without them the class would be the smallest ever graduating. As early as this we wanted to start saving for the Washington Trip. Little did we know what would really happen about that trip. We coui .n't start saving money becau:e the juniors and seniors were having a tou,rh time of it as it wras. Every .lass has its troubles, nd we seem to have had a little more than our share, but we hope the class filling our shoes next year can overcome difficulties we found impossible. It wras fun being freshmen. The seniors looked down on us, and we looked down on the eighth graders. The studies were a cinch, then, of course. The students just went on arguing in Social and finding out who had their diagraming done for English. It seemed nobody liked to diagram. All at once we were practicing for graduation. Practice was walking in and out of the auditorium. No such word as “scared” entered our heads that morning, but in the approaching evening it was the main top ? to the whispering, shaking, and be- wildered fresh-sophs. The next day pictures were taken. Those pictures! How many of us hide them w'hen company comes. All in vain are our e.Torts to hide them from view, sad as they are! The sophomore hop was a gala a.Tair, the talk of the school. It was the first round and square dance and very successful. Everything we planned was to earn money for Washington. Our class had become a really unified class now that we were sophomores. The “Burgoyne Crier” be?an to notice us, and we started stepping into the scandal page where every pupil strains for a place. Some of us went to our first prom that year and were simply thrilled. Of course we looked simply devas- tating in our first long dresses. The sophomores were even invited to go with the seniors on the school picnic. This was supposed to be an honor. All h.:d a grand time, and, as every school picnic marks the end of another school year, that meant we were practically juniors. Now we really could “go to town” and make money for Washington. Candy sell- ing, dances, tags, and more dances were in our motto. Our Junior Prom was the most successful ever given. Say! Were we proud! (never realizing how much those bills at Falvey’s and Ben Franklin’s were), it was the first year Schuylerville H.gh School had a prom queen. We believe this inno ation will be carried on. At the end of the year we had over ninety dollars in the treasury and were looking forward to being seniors. From the first, choosing .ards, caps and gowns, and chaperones were our main interests. Food sales were held frequently. We started out with forty-eight in Washington Trip Club. Then we had to change the name of the club to New York because of the war. This we didn’t mind; and, as all will agree, the trip to New York wall always be remembered. Class night was abolished this year, but class day rose to its glory. Every senior had a class to teach. Regents, tests, and graduation day are yet to come. The future in this day and age holds unknown and undependable promises. So once again we look back at the old school, holding within its walls the memories of pleasant, humorous, and exciting happenings that have followed us through our first path of life, and at the crossroads we’ll do our best to choose a highway of happiness and success. 28 Helen Pleshko ’42

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CLASS PROPHECY The corner at 125th and Ninth Street in New York seemed to be a little brighter than usual on this hot July night in 1949 as I stood on the corner waiting for the uptown bus. Although I had been living in New York for nearly a year, it gave me a queer feeling when I heard the weird wail of the air raid siren and saw the lights begin to blink out one by one. Luckily, I stood near one of the many shelters, and, as I hurried down the flight of stairs into the dimly lighted interior, my arm was nearly yanked from the socket as I was pulled over to one side by a big muscular fellow, who looked more like Joe Louis in the dim light than little Leo Kelly, the Star reporter of the “Daily Times.” After the astonishment of our meeting had worn off, we began to talk of old times, and our chatter soon wandered around to our fellow graduates of S. H. S. I knew that Leo did a great deal of traveling in connection with his work, and so, I asked him if he had seen any of our classmates lately. “Oh! almost all of them,” he replied. “Just last week I was sent to California to cover a story, and the first person I met as 1 boarded the plane was the pretty air hostess, Helen Pleshko, who informed me the ship 1 was taking was to be piloted by no other person than Charles Boivin, the famous transcontinental pilot. And who should be taking the trip with me but the millionaire playboy, Loren Salley? Loren told me that he was going to Hollywood to hear one of his favorite orchestras, led by Johnny Bodnar. Loren also said that Ed Ellis was doing fine as a motion picture director, and that he was now directing the picture entitled “Don’t Take Any Wooden Nickles.” This story was written by Betty Peets, and the leading parts were taken by Margaret Williams and Earl Sanders. As I left the plane, who should meet me but IJlaine Lang, a very prominent hotel manager! We were driven to her hotel by her chauffeur, Douglas Powers, and as we left the car we were met at the hotel entrance by the doorman, Leonard Nacy. The clerk, Miss Mary Hathaway, told me that the meals in the hotel were very fine because they were being planned by Eleanor Booth, a very well known dietician. A very snappy elevator boy, James Parillo, took me up to my room, and on my way up I glanced at the front page of the paper, and there was the picture of a bomber crew who had just shot down their fifteenth Jap plane. The first time I looked I couldn’t believe it, but it was true. That crew was made up of some of my classmates. The pilot was Thomas Smith; the bomber was Bill Boyce; and the gunners were Bill Hewitt and Keith Towns. Yes, the whole crew were students from S. H. S., and even the machinist, was no other than Robert Pratt. One surprise in the paper was enough, but as I turned to the back page a big “Ad” caught my eye. It read as follows: “If you want the best undertaker in town, you want Dallas LaVoy, and his assistant, Thelma Mathis.” While we were at lunch, LaVoy had an attack of appendicitis and was rushed to the hospital by a very reckless ambulance driver, and as I left the ambulance I saw the driver was George Hathaway. We rushed Dallas to the operating room, and there I met the doctor, Fred VanderPoel, and his assistant, Leo Willette. Fred had become quite an expert surgeon out there on the west coast. No wonder, he had four very competent nurses: June Launder, Leona White, Marie Cormie, and Marie Nevins. I left Mr. LaVoy in their charge, and as I left I felt sure that he would be well cared for. I left the hospital and went to the Lockhead Aircraft Plant where I covered the story I was to get on this plant. During my tour of the factory grounds, I saw Leo Nadeau and Napoleon Irish who were two of the best electrical welders that they had. As I left the plant I was hailed by two very tough men, James Haley and Fred Boyce, who were working for the company as private detectives. That night I took the train for New York and was greatly surprised to have my ticket taken by John Sails who had a job as conductor. I had a very comfortable trip and stopped at the small city to spend the day. I learned from John Sullivan, the mayor of the village, that Charles Martin was coaching the high school’s cham- pion baseball team, while Betty Phillips was doing very good teaching the scholars there to speak French. I ate lunch with the mayor in a very nice diner, run by Helen Hathaway and Dot Toleman, who had gone into partnership. As I left the 29