Southampton High School - Sea Spray Yearbook (Southampton, NY)

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26 THE ORANGE PEAL Henry, we are convinced that you ought to become a road commissioner, you seem to be so interested in “Streets.” Mickey, you mustn’t grow restless or impatient for another opportunity to wear a long, white veil as on May Day. Eight years isn’t such an awful long time, after all, Mickey. We know you like baseball, Lester, but we wouldn’t advise you to take it up as a profession, there’s too much “Fanning” in you. Helen “Half-Pint” Halsey, you must grow! Don’t you know that every- one asks for at least a pint, these days? Have you heard of the Seniors’ most unique gold digger? They say true love never runs smooth. We wonder, Esther, if that’s the reason for the many quarrels between you and your latest, most ardent admirer? Class Will We, the Class of ’24 of this so worthy and honorable an institution, the Southampton High School, being on the point of departure from this afore- said edifice of knowledge and understanding and being in our sanest possible mind, feel it our duty and privilege to leave behind us a few tokens of affec- tion for those poor strugglers toward truth and light, who are doomed to remain behind—namely, the Juniors. To CHARLES GUILLOZ we leave a chauffeur and car without interior lights or mirrors (this for comfort, of course) so that Deerfield and Little Fresh Pond won’t seem so far apart. To EDNA ELLISTON, a wider seat in study hall to accommodate more of her friends. To RUSSELL BAILEY, we leave a whole week of dates with Esther without interference from a certain Senior. To NELLI AN YOUDE, a job in the Post Office so she can keep track of her mail (male). To JOSEPH FANNING, a bottle of Scotch, so he can get pepped up to the proper Scotch standard when out with Daisy. To HELEN EDWARDS, a nice trip to Coney Island where she’ll forget all about the fifteen books she studies every night. To JIMMIE LYNCH, a little lady killer so he can capture his elusive heart’s fancy. To WILLARD FRENCH, a thrilling girl so that he won’t have to begin at the very beginning of her education and bring her up the way he thinks proper. To CLIFFORD GREENE, a pair of socks from his brother Raymond so he will have a pair in case of an emergency when Raymond’s gone. To ISABELLE DOWNEY, a working knowledge of chemistry so she’ll know the difference between a “reducing agent” and “fatty foods.” To LILLIAN BENNETT, a cute little choker to make her rousing yells a little more subdued. In short, so she’ll make less noise. To ROGER STEWART, a girl at home (he can’t seem to get one). To BERTHA DULL, a book entitled “How to Learn to Dance in Your Own Room,” including all the new, sensational “struts.” To EUGENE BALDWIN, we leave one of our members to act as an in- termediary between Gene and the teachers, especially Mrs. Sayre, so that next year he won’t feel so abused and will consider taking a little interest in school.

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THE ORANGE PEAL 25 In regard to the more eccentric members of this MOST renowned dass, we would advise: Skinny, the next time you buy tires for your Ford, purchase the new balloon type so that everything will be in proportion. Bud McAllister, we think you should become a mason, you are so very concrete. Emily, you should write a book. On what topic? Why, “Love’s Labor Lost.” Anna Hayes, we all agree that you should be more silent about this mysterious George of yours, or else some of our S. H. S. flappers may steal away his faithful heart. Archie, you should purchase a book of etiquette so that if you ever go to Washington again, you won’t ask any strange young ladies to dance before being introduced. Beware! Ladies and Gentlemen! Beware! The most flapperish of the flappers, the deepest digger of the gold diggers, the most vampish of the vamps, the queen with the bluest of blue eyes is now capturing the hearts of all the romantic young Seniors. Need one ask who she may be? Why, Helen Bruzdoski, of course! Ansley, you must restrain yourself from attempting the conquest of William Platt. Knowest thou not, Ansley, that the Hill Street boys are un-vampa'ble? Dicky, old boy, we suggest that you wear green neckties, you seem to care so much for the Irish. Toby, there’s one thing we can’t understand. Why is it, whenever anyone speaks of Farmington, everybody always looks at you? Harriet Raynor, just keep on smiling patiently at “Smiles,” so when “Smiles” smiles back, you will smile and say “Yes” and go “Smilin’ Through” life. Ray Greene, we know you are a noisy lad, but please don’t make such a “Howell” about some of the girls. Oh, Lydia dear. We sadly fear, Your color is not youthful. We would suggest, For happiness, A rouge box might be useful. Our advice to Aleith is not to go into the “Old Maid’s Race for Spinster- hood,” someone might Fowler (foul her) and then, what would mother say? We extend our hearty congratulations to Pete Balnis. May he always keep his present ideas of happy life as shown by a snapshot taken on the train returning from Washington. Our advice to Genevieve Roche is to be sure to put on rubbers on Sunday, so that she won’t wear out so many pairs of shoes walking along “Main Street.” Especially dedicated to William Smith: Oh, he is a lad with blonde curly hair, With a voice very meek and low. But when he “strutted his stuff” in Washington, They called him “Sheik of Tuckahoe.” Catherine, you should get a real, big boy, so that when you are out riding up around Patchogue again the cops won’t stop him when he drives with one hand. Harry Frank, you really must cease aspiring to take out certain mem- bers of the S. H. S. faculty. Really, Harry, it isn’t propel-. Wouldn’t we all be happy if Edna Fredericks were as “Witty” in school as she is outside?

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THE ORANGE PEAL 27 To WILLIAM PLATT, a book on “Sensational Style in English,” contain- ing beautiful phrases like “in the lap of luxury,” etc. To ELIZABETH JAGGER, a Vergil translation so she’ll be able to trans- late at short notice next year and thus manage to keep Miss Shrader’s good will until she’s safely out of High School. To DAISY McLEAN, a cute little fan because we hear she’s fond of “Fanning.” To JOE PHILLIPS, a few more years’ extension to his ticket in the East Quogue bus. To PEG RYlDER, a larger pair of feet so she’ll have a little better “understanding” in some of her classes. To KATHRli N McALLISTER, a little black dye to quench that fiery symbol. Seniors should be more subdued. To ELIZABETH DARBY, a real picture of Warren Smith. (Note—How did we get it?) To HE'LEN ROCHE, a tape measure so she can measure little Tommy R. from time to time to see if he’s growing any. She can’t get married til) he grows up, naturally. In general: To DICK POWDER—We know you’re roly poly yourself, Dick, so why do you want to change Aleith ? She’s Pohley now. However, we leave you permission. To our beloved Teachers: MISS OWENS, a megaphone to broadcast her orders to all parts of Senior Room and a big stick to enforce them when made. (We’re leaving so we don’t care). MR. AMNER, a pull with the “cops” on this end of the Island so people won’t be able to spoil his reputation by saying he’s getting “fast.” MISS SCHRADER, a real wreath of laurels like the martyrs of old used to wear, because we Seniors feel it more than justified. MISS TUTHILL—If you call your little dog that you love so dearly, “Uzz,” whatever will you call your husband? We suggest that you call him “Huzz,” so he’ll match and feel he’s liked as much as the dog. Also a speedometer so she can slow down to the school children. To MR. SABINE are extended our most sincere thanks and heartiest appreciation for all he has done for us throughout High School and most especially in our Senior year. To iMISS SCHiENKEL, permission from Mr. Sabine to go out with several small boys. MISS HUDSON, a doctor’s certificate. Maybe she’ll get more “patients” (patience). MRS. SAYRE—A little more avoirdupois so that when compelled, as she says, to “sit down on ‘Hist. B’,” they’ll stay down. Never talk about your ancestors. That’s taking unfair advantage of them. They never talked about you. “Let me kiss those tears away, sweetheart,” he asked tenderly. She fell into his arms and he was very busy for a few minutes. But the tears flowed on. “Can nothing stop them?” he asked breathlessly. “No,” she murmured. “It’s hay fever, but go on with the treatment.”